Page 65 of Flight of Fate

They are everywhere,tall, powerful soldiers with grey leather armor, swinging nondescript swords at us as we rush into an efficient formation at the center of the clearing. Kaira has my left side while Myron covers my right, my back to Clio’s with Andraya and Pouly safely stored between the four of us.

“I can’t believe she betrayed us,” the Fairy Princess hisses through her teeth, scanning the clearing for Tata, who disappeared the second the soldiers arrived, while I try to ignore the urgency the scent of Myron’s blood instills in me. Of course, he’s already healing the cut on his lip, but it doesn’t change that the bond is screaming at me to protect him and punish the traitor who punched him in the face.

Not that I’m not busy otherwise with those soldiers flooding the clearing.

“That’s a discussion for later,” Myron stops Clio before she can go down the road of blaming herself. “Let’s get out of here alive first.”

He has a point and a good one at that. The thirty-plus men surrounding us are clearly here to collect us—for torture or worse. Their faces are all half hidden by the headpieces of the magic-repellant armor Erina’s armies are now equipped with,but that doesn’t mean the Tavrasian King is the one who sent those sentries.

If only Herinor and Silas were here, we’d have two more capable warriors to stand against this small army, but odds are these are the ones who shot them out of the sky and our Crow friends have been captured.

“Can you site-hop back to the palace and get reinforcements?” I suggest more than ask Clio, praying to whichever god will listen that she says yes.

Her voice is low enough I need to strain my ears to catch all her words as she responds, “It would take too long to get there and back in time before they skewer you all.”

“Thanks for illustrating our pending fate,” Myron growls, his power leaking from his hands once more like ink in water while his shield shimmers like silver in the frosty air.

Monitoring the approach of the enemy, Kaira shifts into a defensive stance. “If they’re human, we can defeat them easily, even if they spray us with that damn magic-binding drug.” A few more moments and they’ll be upon us. Running isn’t an option. It never was. Clio can’t site-hop us all at once, and on foot, we’d be too slow. With Andraya and Pouly injured, we’d need to leave them behind, and that’s not an option.

“I doubt they’re all human,” Myron says, flipping his sword. With a casual step, his shoulder is half in front of me, shielding me from part of the attackers who have almost closed the gap.

Gripping my daggers more tightly and pulling my silver power to the surface, I shove out of Myron’s protection. “I’m a big Crow girl, Myron. I can handle myself,” I remind him with as much merit as I can muster in the face of the approaching danger.

Through our bond, a flicker of warmth caresses my soul, and he brushes his shoulder against mine. “I know, little crow.”

“Sword or magic?” Clio asks, coiling to spring while Andraya and Pouly ready the extra knives we handed them.

A spark of silver flies from Myron’s palm, swirling up the length of my dagger before rushing across the closing distance toward one of the soldiers where it’s sucked into the gray armor like a raindrop into a cotton towel, not leaving a single trace. “Steel it is.”

His words are carried away on a gust of icy wind, and like on a silent signal, the soldiers attack.

Two men are upon me before I can curse Shaelak’s name, their swords unrelenting even against my fae strength. Beside me, Myron is fighting another two, his sword a flash of silver and menace as he slits their throats with ease.

Pulling my shield more tightly to my front, I extend it behind my back to include Andraya and Pouly, who both seem ready to claw the soldiers’ eyes out but hover where we’ve placed them at the eye of the storm.

Each strike landing on my blades rattles my bones, but my Crow strength parries them with ease, my magic rising beneath the surface, ready to tear my opponents to shreds.

Too risky,I tell the power lapping against my skin from the inside.You’ll just get drained when you touch the magic-defying armor and won’t cause the least bit of damage.

But my daggers do cause damage. Throwing my full weight into the blow, I pierce one dagger into the throat of the soldier trying to land another blow. The steel pierces through the leather headpiece covering the sensitive sides of his neck, and a spray of crimson hits my shield as I watch the life leave the man’s eyes.

I shouldn’t be so thoroughly pleased by a life gone out, but a primal part of me knows it’s either them or me, and I’d rather it be them.

Steel clashes with steel behind me, Clio’s voice carrying on the freezing air as she mocks her opponents. I don’t need to turn around to know she’s cut down more than one of them, just as I don’t need to glance at Kaira or Myron to know they are relentlessly fighting the onslaught of soldiers. At least, they haven’t started with arrows yet. If they used the same magic-nullifying missiles they’ve shot at us before, our shields would be worthless.

Another sword swings my way, making me hop out of its path before I can strike back. Despite the cold, sweat is building on my forehead, my heart beating frantically as I wonder how long we’ll be able to keep this up.

Yes, it’s easy to keep them at bay—for now. But while the first soldiers falling at our feet like cut wheat stalks were clearly human, the one I’m fighting now seems to be something more. His blows are harder, more precise, and the unearthly wrath in his narrowed brown eyes speaks of a grudge older than a human lifetime.

My intuition is confirmed when a streak of fire races along the blade aiming at my shoulder, and I twirl out of the way just in time to avoid the impact.

“Fire Fairy!” I shout to warn the others, using the condescending term for their kind on purpose and relishing the ire flaring in those eyes as the male growls a warning at me a heartbeat before he swings his sword once more.

Myron is busy hacking his way through the two men who replaced the ones he already cut down, and I’m not proud to admit that my attention is only half on my own attacker when I sense his frustration as each blow is deflected anew. My shield merges with his instinctively, feeling him in my protection. At least, the searing heat of the Fire Fairy’s magic can’t penetrate that layer of power that easily.

As if picking that thought from my mind, the Flame throws another wave of fire at me, so strong, this time, that I can taste ash on my tongue. The magic enveloping me melts just enough to make the temperature inside the shield climb to a toasty summer climate.

A part of me wonders why they haven’t sprayed us with the serum the way the Flames did when we ambushed them what feels like a lifetime ago. Before I can ponder any possible reasons, another strike of fire blasts against the silvery power surrounding us.

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