Page 16 of Heart of Night
To my surprise, Kaira bobs her head. “If by mortal you mean that Flames die a natural death at some point, then yes, we are.” Her features twist. “At least, the full-blooded ones among us are. Not many Flames survived Carius’s attack on our palace, so it’s not like there were many pure-blooded Flames to carry on our people.”
Before I can ask specifics, she shakes her head. “That’s how halflings like me happened. Though human blood was bred into my ancestors’ line generations before I was born. If anything, I’m human with an affinity for fire.” She manages a self-deprecating laugh.
“And the others?” I think of the male with pointed ears who attacked me when the Flames first breached the Crow Palace. I wasn’t able to pay attention to the shape of the Flames’ ears during the last battle, but the one who nearly killed me in the first attack definitely had pointed ears.
“Some lines believed it better to strengthen our people by breeding with other fairies.” She gives me a meaningful look that I can only interpret as her finding it an abhorrent idea. “Those are the strongest fighters among us now. But Jeseida is a full-blooded Flame. She’ll die after her natural lifespan ends, which is approximately two hundred years. She’s in her hundred and twenties now. At the prime of her Flame years.”
It still boggles my mind how something like that is possible, but I am not quick enough to ask Kaira how long she will live before she gestures at the water once more and gives me an expectant glance.
“It was Herinor who put the poison into the tea,” she offers, not giving me a moment to process. “Now get into the tub. The sooner we get you ready, the sooner we can get out of here.”
I open my mouth to ask what she means by we, but again, she has an answer ready.
“You didn’t think I’d let you leave alone.”
Nine
Ayna
It’s not even an hour later when I sit at the table in my room, fully clothed in an entirely too pretty and uncomfortable traveling dress with long, ice-blue silken sleeves and skirts and a russet bodice that could as well have been part of the brocade wallpaper stretching along the wall around the window.
After informing me that she intends to join me on the journey to King Erina’s court, Kaira braided my hair into a coronet at the crown of my head and added pearl-tipped pins until it looked like a tiara. I’m still processing everything she shared, but one piece of information is particularly bothersome: Herinor put the poison in my tea.
The same male who told me he might be my only ally tried to poison me before he tortured me.
I wish I had a moment to confront him, but the odds are that Ephegos will put me in a carriage and have me shipped off to Tavras before I get a chance to even see the rest of this estate.
Maybe it’s for the best. The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I’ll get a chance to escape.
I’ve scoured the room for anything resembling a weapon, but the pins in my hair are the closest thing to something sharp I could find, so here I am, waiting for my captors to take me outside and send me off where I’ll hopefully be able to sneak away during the night with my driver none the wiser.
Suppressing a sigh of frustration, I reach deep into the depths of my being where my magic once sang to me, but all I find is a sputter of cool energy that might as well have been the beginning stroke of resignation.
I have so many questions, and every time I gain information, all it does is bring up more questions until I’m buried beneath a pile of them. If Herinor told the truth, Vala was the one aiding me at the Crow Palace. The murderous lake was infused with her power. Maybe that’s all it was—a brief helping hand of a goddess who saw someone worthy of breaking her curse.
My head is a mess, and my limbs aren’t any better. I’m still weak, but the bath at least rinsed away the evidence of that weakness. I’m now clean and presentable again, an image of nobility and grace—if I manage to keep my spine straight. When Ephegos comes for me, I’ll hold my head high and pretend not to care. I’ll pretend for Myron and the memories we created. For the warmth of his touch I’ll never feel again and his sacrifice, I’ll be the unbreakable Ayna who once boarded a pirate ship to see the world and leave behind all the chains of guilt and sorrow.
I’ll be more than that. I’ll be the queen he made me, even when I don’t have a kingdom to rule or a people. I’ll bide my time until I see an opening, and then I’ll run like the wind blowing into the Wild Ray’s sails.
And then, I’ll find Royad and Clio.
I swallow the lump in my throat at the thought that I might find neither of my friends even if they still live. They are magic-wielding fairies. And I’m… I no longer know what I am. Ephegos said I’m no longer all human, but it doesn’t answer what that makes me. I’m not a Crow or a Flame. And I’m most definitely not high fae.
A knock on the door tears me from my thoughts, and I leap to my feet, determined not to show an ounce of weakness to whoever enters this room.
The door swings open, revealing the view of Ephegos in brown leathers, silver sword attached to his belt and an unbothered smile on his lips. “Ah, good, you’re ready.”
He strides right for me, holding out his hand like a courtier even when there is no invitation in his gaze, only command.
For a moment, I debate not taking it. Then my attention drifts to the scars along his skin. He gave up his wings to betray his best friend. He blames Myron for Sariell’s death. He is acting like he rules the Flames even when Kaira mentioned a Matrone. Then there’s the fact that he’s working with General Katrijanov. Too many loose threads are running together in his mangled hands.
The irony doesn’t slip my attention when I place my bad hand into his. “How do you know the Tavrasian king?” I give him a pointed look that I hope will take him by surprise.
The good thing about Ephegos is that he is not only smart, vengeful, and stealthy, but he is also a self-adoring asshole who wants to rub his superiority in my face. So I’m only half surprised when he chuckles and reels me closer to him like a rope on a ship and says, “There is a reason I gained so much power among the Flames, Ayna.” He turns, pulling me along as he heads for the door. “I’ve been coming and going from this place since I learned of Sariell’s existence. A halfling fathered by a Crow and carried in the womb of the Flame Matrone. A princess, so to say.”
My stomach drops like I missed a step even when we’re still on the even, polished floor of the hallway.
“If there is anyone who hates the Crows more than me, it’s Jeseida.” His smirk is manic, and so are his eyes, and when he runs his free hand along his forearm where his Flame armor covers the featherless flesh, I understand that perhaps he is glad that the final evidence of his Crow heritage was burned off his skin.