Page 8 of Flight of Fate

“It’s not flying weather out there.” Again, the truth. It’s all I have to offer. “If she set out by herself, she might have sought shelter in a tree or a cave and will be back by the time the storm dies down.” As if to emphasize my point, a gust of wind rips a twig from a tree and smashes it into the window.

Even Silas flinches, hand twitching to the hatchet he’s discarded beside him on the silver brocade.

“I don’t know what thought is worse, taken by enemy or taken by storm,” Royad muses while Myron’s face reassembles into that expression he only wears when he’s coming up with plans no one else dares consider.

“Don’t even think about it,” Royad warns before Myron can even voice what he’s decided. “It’s too dangerous to go after her.”

“It’s too dangerousnotto,” Myron objects. “If I wait until the storm dies down, whoever’s taken her might have dragged her all the way to the Tavrasian border.”

“Ifsomeone took her,” I correct. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“And we don’t want to risk the outcome of Erina’s men having found her. Askarea is huge, the borders wide, and not every inch of land can be patrolled at all times. It’s possible someone snuck through and found her.”

“Unlikely if she didn’t leave the premises,” Silas says with the serious tone I so rarely hear from him. It’s the male I remember from before the curse—from before he lost Dahlia. “And where else should she have gone in this city if not follow you to the temple? It’s what she’s done every damn night.”

He’s got a point.

“Does Recienne know anything?” Royad’s question puts the fear of the gods in me. The Fairy King is still a male-pretty sentimentalist in my opinion, but he’s also powerful enough to snuff out a life with a flick of his fingers. With this power, why he bothers to do his hair every morning, I still need to understand.

“I’m not ready to alert the entire palace,” Myron murmurs, frantic gaze back on the window while he stands so still I wonder if he’s still breathing. At least, he’s given up pacing. “We should inform Tori first.”

As if making the decision as he speaks, Myron starts for the door, his movements a blur as he uses his full fae speed for once. Good. I’d been wondering when that would kick in.

He’s a Crow male after all. A Crowking. His strength and power should be putting mine to shame even with the centuries I have on him.

A part of me begs for it to be true because, if it’s not, that would mean that, when it comes to it—one on one—I’d defeat him. And I can’t let that happen. Murderous, uncivilized bastards that the Crows are, we deserve a king like him—someone who will lead us into a prosperous future. If we ever find times of peace and a realm to call our own.

With a sigh, I watch Royad and Silas file out the door, ready to aid our king, and I’m about to do the same, but the door to Kaira’s room opens, and the part-Flame, hair tousled and tangled around her head, gives me a damning look that drives a knife to my gut.

“I didn’t do anything.” I have no idea why I even bother if she thinks whatever happened is my fault, and I’m far from ready to examine the sensation as she narrows her eyes at me and I feel like I’m waiting for her to decide my fate.

“If the others are running and you’re still here, I assume it’s about helping Ayna.” Tugging the chocolate-colored woolen blanket over her shoulders, Kaira trudges to the sofa and plops down in the exact same spot Silas was lounging in earlier and pulls her bare feet under her.

“If it’s about Ayna, I’m surprised you aren’t right behind them,” I counter, waiting for the blow to land, but Kaira merely shrugs.

“She needed some space.”

Godforsaken fuckers of Hel’s realm.“You know where she is?”

Another shrug. “She doesn’t simply disappear without informing me—intentionally or not.” She glances at the window, at the trees bending to the force of the weather. “She should be back by morning. I didn’t think Myron would notice with his own nocturnal prowls through the city.”

“Nocturnalwhat?” I nearly spit at her.

“Prowls.” She makes that face—the one that makes me want to grab her by the throat and shove her against a wall.

“Violence doesn’t suit you.” I’m not imagining the challenge in her tone, am I? And?—

“Get out of my head.” I lean against the windowsill, bracing my hands next to my hips, and listen for signs that Tori is sending a search party into the night.

“Gladly”—she smirks—“if you stop thinking about squeezing the life out of me.”

If that’s what she picked up on, she’s not nearly as deep in my mind as she thinks. Ignoring the blush trying to creep up my neck, I growl a warning. “You’re practically begging for it.” Not in the way she means it, though.

Kaira sticks out her tongue and nestles into the blanket until the fabric covers her from her toes to her chin.

“And why are you not concerned about the wellbeing of your kin?” A lame attempt at pushing her fiery focus away from me, but it’s worth a try, or I’ll go down a path neither of us is ready for.

“Mykinis a traitorous pack of fire-spitting monsters, in case you haven’t noticed. But if you’re asking about Ayna, she is a big crow. She can take care of herself, in any form.”

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