Page 21 of Rage of Her Ravens

My mates.

Wow.

What had the elements been thinking to match me up with Malvolia’s mages? They might not have been evil, but they served an evil queen, which was bad enough. And what had I been thinking in flying off with them? Though what choice did I have? We couldn’t have escaped my parents without them. Still, I couldn’t fight the nagging doubt that I’d made a mistake. It was too late for regrets, though. We would give my mates a chance, and if I didn’t feel safe with them, I’d have Aurora take us somewhere else. Perhaps sooner rather than later.

The one who carried me hadn’t given me one kind look during our flight. In fact, his expression was unreadable, a hard mask of granite. I wondered if he was angry with me for not letting him kill my parents. Hadn’t he believed me when I’d told him my parents couldn’t lie? Did he doubt the strength of my siren voice? Or perhaps he did believe me, and he finally realized he’d been duped his entire life by my evil aunt. There was only one way to find out—ask my reticent mate, though that twisting in my gut warned me he wouldn’t be open to conversation.

I cleared my throat, calling above the din of his flapping wings. “What’s your name?”

He stared straight ahead, and for a moment I wondered if he was deaf or mute, but no, he’d heard and answered me just fine earlier.

I held my breath, waiting, watching as he worked a tic in his jaw.

“Draevyn,” he finally answered, his voice as cold as the hard glint in his eyes. Yeah, he was angry.

I wouldn’t let his sour mood intimidate me. We were fated mates, after all, just like my parents, who were madly in love. In fact, in all my life, I’d never heard them utter an unkind word to each other.

“Draevyn.” I clutched his neck tighter. “I’m Shirina.”

“I know,” he answered coolly, his expression as hard as iron as he kept his gaze straight ahead.

What a toad. I hated that I trembled in his arms. Why did this Fae make me so nervous? Why did Ilethim make me so nervous? Usually, men were terrified of me, not the other way around.

“Where are you taking us?” I asked, anxious energy making my voice rattle.

“Someplace safe,” he said, continuing to stare straight ahead.

He wasn’t just a toad. He was a fat, croaking pond dweller with big, bubbly warts. “Specifically where?”

“Abyssus, our estate in Delfi.”

“Delfi?” I gasped. “Where Malvolia lives?”

“No, not where she lives.” His voice lacked the slightest hint of empathy.

I heaved a breath of frustration. “Care to expand on that?”

His shell cracked long enough for his eyes to flash with annoyance. “It’s a big country. Malvolia lives far north. Our estate is far south.”

“What if she finds us there?”

“Hopefully, she won’t.”

I was growing ever tired of his obtuse answers. “Hopefully?”

“Malvolia is too focused right now on the Caldarian and Windhaven armies and stopping the white witch.”

My sister. Damn. “How far is your estate from here?”

“A two- or three-day flight without passengers. With you slowing us down—” He paused, sneering as if the thought of having to carry me soured his stomach. “It will take three or four.”

Ire warmed my veins, and anxiety was replaced with aggravation. I was tired of dancing around his foul mood. “My parents didn’t kill your parents,” I blurted.

He worked another tic in his jaw before speaking through clenched teeth. “They did.”

“They can’t lie when I use my siren voice.”

He still refused to look at me. “They lied.”

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