Page 80 of Flight of Fate

“And our swords,” the third human comments, glancing down at his hips then at mine and Silas’s. “I’m Rochus, by the way.”

All right. That’s a start. “My name is Herinor, and this is Silas.”

“Pleasure,” Silas murmurs, his breathing too shallow for comfort. We need to get out of here and fast. Preferably before the guards return to check in. If we manage to sneak away, we could find a cave and hide until our powers recover. A tug on my chains tells me there won’t be any sneaking.

We’d probably fight to the death and be glad our ending comes mercifully fast compared to that of the rebels frozen between us.

“How bad are your injuries,” I ask Rochus, gesturing with my chin at his thigh where blood keeps leaking.

He merely shakes his head. “I can fight if you get me out of these chains.” The determination in his voice leaves no room for doubt, even when I’m almost certain he won’t make it if we need to run.

“And yours?”

Ed shrugs awkwardly as I turn toward him. “I can barely feel my feet and hands, but that’s from the cold, not from injuries.” His gaze glides to Gabrilla. “I’d be more worried about her.”

As the one closest to the woman, Silas slides one foot to the side, pushing against her knee with his toes. I try not to cringe at the grunt of pain escaping him at the movement. Whatever injuries the humans have suffered and however willing they are to work together, when it comes to running, Silas will be the one I’ll carry because there is no way in Hel’s realm he will be able to make a mad dash for freedom.

To all our surprise, Gabrilla stirs at the touch, rolling to her knees and cursing when her hands are restrained by the chains binding them tightly. Her back is bowed, wild dark hair spills over her shoulders and face from under the rim of the cloak’s forest green hood.

“What’s happening?” Disorientation resonates in every squeaked syllable, in every movement, until she manages a glance at Ed and Rochus.

“Shhh, Sis,” Ed whisper-shouts across the short space separating them. “You’ll summon the guard before we can actually formulate a plan.”

That silences the woman, and she sits back on her haunches, the hood sliding back a few inches to expose a face as tan as Ed’sand Rochus’s, but her features are finer regardless of the clear blood relation. Brother and sister. And Rochus? Their father, perhaps? I don’t ask. It won’t matter if we don’t get out of here, and if we do, we’ll have time to clarify all relations over a fire while we recover from the worst.

When Gabrilla doesn’t speak, Ed and Rochus both turn to me as if I’m some sort of a leader. “Aren’t you two fairies?” Ed asks, initial fear gone enough to make the wrong assumptions without fear of reprimand.

“Crows,” I correct, and when they shrink back an inch, I quickly amend, “We’re not loyal to Ephegos, though.” Not in the ways it counts, I add in my mind, just to keep the oath happy. “You know Ephegos, right? Andraya and Pouly told you everything about what we’re up against?”

The cautious nods I earn are better than needing to re-explain everything that happened since Ayna arrived in Tavras and was outed as the Milevishja heir by their own king. We can go over the details later—if thereisa later.

“We were on the way to your true queen when we were captured by those soldiers,” I continue, wondering how long untilthose soldiersturn the corner to pick us up for whatever plans they have.

“I saw you fight them,” Rochus interjects. “For a moment, I believed you’d kill them all and free us.” I don’t know whether to take it as a compliment or a mockery.

“Well, we clearly didn’t.”

“Because they used the drug on you,” Ed jumps in, his voice stronger as if the adrenaline of a pending battle is heating his body and infusing him with new strength. “A shit move if you ask me.”

“No one is asking you, Ed,” Gabrilla notes, but there is no humor in her tone, just a cold efficiency that speaks of too muchroutine in last-minute combat planning for a woman her age—barely older than Ayna and already that bitter.

From the corner of my eyes, I note Silas shifting his arms to better support his weight against where he’s braced his hands on his knees. He must be in unspeakable pain, yet, he manages a grimace of a smile in Gabriela’s direction. “If you show half as many teeth when the guards return, we’ll be good.”

A huff of a laugh builds in my throat, the pressure increasing until I allow it to slip out, and for a moment, things don’t seem as bleak. Perhaps we’ll get out after all. Perhaps, the kitchen in the rebels’ hideout won’t be the last place I’ve seen the fiery part-Flame who set out to save the rebels. Perhaps they are on our tracks and will barge into this camp to save us all. Perhaps her droplet of flame will save the freezing humans, and she’ll finally see that she has the greatest power of all—the relentless fire of her compassion, a strength that will never stop burning.

There is a reason I’ve forbidden myself to think of her from the moment the soldiers ambushed us in the forest: Any hope of ever seeing her again might force me to take risks. That will damn not only me but the friend at my side who needs my help.

“I don’t know how many magically gifted soldiers are in this camp.” The words grate against my throat, unwilling to be spoken for fear of an answer that might doom us for good. “But I assume some since there’s a shield surrounding it.”

The humans’ eyes go wide with surprise. Of course, they’ll never have heard of all the things we can do with our powers. Except for killing, of course.

“I saw a few of them do tricks earlier,” Silas whispers, his voice failing.

Shit. We don’t have much time.

My gaze follows his toward the corner where a small gap between two tents allows the view of the activity of the main corridor in the camp. Whether the soldiers didn’t notice we’reawake and communicating or they simply don’t care, I leave it up to the gods. Right now, every heartbeat of remaining unobserved is a blessing.

“The next human guard who comes by, we’ll lure close enough so one of us can grab them. We’ll somehow tackle them and bring them down. Once we have a key—or a blade thin enough to pick a lock, we’ll get out of here.”

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