Page 28 of Heart of Night
“Just another human home,” Royad answers, taking the burden off my shoulders when I have trouble speaking from the guilt piling up inside of me.
To my right, Astorian is oddly quiet, his gaze trained on the segments of windows visible between heavy branches. I wish I knew what he was seeing there with his fairy eyes. My fae senses pick up the scents of blossoms, horse sweat, and freshly cut grass, but I can’t make out a human scent.
“There’s no human in there,” Astorian says without turning toward me?—
And my heart plummets to my knees. Did he just?—
Royad and Silas exchange a glance of concern as they both reach for their weapons while I merely shoot more of my power into the provisional shield I’ve built around myself. I probe it to make sure it’s woven tightly around my thoughts as much as my skin. Rumors of Askarean fairies plucking thoughts from people’s heads reached the Seeing Forest long before the last Crow War, and I can’t help but feel nervousness at the mere thought of becoming transparent for the enemy.
“It’s not abandoned, though.” Royad leans toward the fence where obvious traces of recent repairments betray the otherwise silent appearance of the premises.
“So, who’s hiding in there?” It’s Silas’s undiplomatic tone that challenges us all, reminding me that I’m no longer a cursed Crow but a fae capable of shifting into my bird form at will, a fae with senses and powers beyond what I’m used to employing from centuries and centuries of disuse. From never properly learning how they work and understanding how to use them to my advantage. Royad is the same. He was as young as I was when the curse fell upon us. We need to learn how to be proper fae while, for Silas, it’s like coming home—he’s said it himself.
In reflex, my gaze shoots toward him, studying his features as his focus seems to drift ahead of us to where his trained ability to use his Shaelak-given senses and uncover truths I yet need to learn.
Gods, I wish I had time to become the predator he is, to become comfortable in my own skin the way Astorian is. I wish the sun on my face wouldn’t constantly remind me that I’ve failed at saving the woman who saved me.
“You won’t like what’s in there,” Silas says, giving me a brief glance that I have come to interpret as a harbinger of mayhem.
“What’s in there?” Astorian is brave enough to ask a heartbeat before he goes still like a rock, nostrils flaring. “Fuck the Guardians.”
I’m about to demand what’s going on when her scent drifts into my nose. A growl rips from my throat, so unlike the hisses and caws I’m used to. It’s pure animalistic rage welling up inside of me as I taste Ayna on my tongue—wildflowers and summer heat. And blood.
“I’m going to rip his throat out.”
Royad’s and Silas’s aren’t the only hands landing on my shoulders and arms, restraining me as I strain to charge through the fence and hedges, straight to the source of the scent. Astorian’s magic locks around my ankles, holding my feet in place while his hand lands on my chest with the force of solid stone.
“Don’t.” It’s all he says while Royad is doing his best to calm me with about a hundred reasons why it is foolish to barge into the enemy’s home and demand for my bride. My queen. My—everything. She’s my everything.
I loose a cry of frustration, and it turns into a hiss, then a caw as I shift into my bird form under their fingers and flutter out of their grasp, wings beating like I’m fighting a flood threatening to drown me.
Royad’s curses follow me as I take off across the trees, and even Astorian’s fairy magic isn’t enough to keep me from finding the missing piece of my heart.
By the time I make it to the front of the building, Royad and Silas are both at my tail, and I have the distinct feeling Astorian isn’t far behind. Perhaps he can’t shift into a bird, but if he has the same ability as his mate, he can site-hop through the world like it’s a spiderweb of magical gridlines taking him wherever he pleases. I don’t care. Ayna’s scent is like a hook in my chest, drawing me closer and closer and closer. My pulse pounds in my veins, fueling my wingbeats as I make quick work of the last feet of open ground before I circle above the roof. She is there. She has to be in this house. The entire fucking building radiates her scent. No matter how many times I’ve buried my nose in her hair or scented her skin, this is different. More potent than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Like a silver thread, the tang of blood mixed into her scent pulls me in. If she is hurt. If Ephegos harmed a hair on her head. If he laid even a finger on her body?—
My wings are shaking, feathers dissipating into inky mist as I land beside one of the many chimneys, hands braced on the age-worn roof tiles. I don’t care that they seem brittle in places. It’s not my fucking problem if their roof collapses under my weight. They stole her from me. They took my life and my heart. Vala returned the first to me. I’ll take back the second in the name of all that I’ve suffered. That she has suffered. “Ayna!” My voice rips from my throat in blind panic as the smell of her blood begins to overpower the notes of wildflowers.
I’m vaguely aware of Royad landing at my side, his muscled form unfolding as he shifts back. Silas follows suit, his sword drawn and ire tearing at his features.
“Wait,” Royad urges. “Let’s think this through.”
“She’s in there.” I don’t bother waiting for a response as I blast through the roof with the vast power collecting beneath my skin. Like a detonation, it radiates in all directions, shoving Royad and Silas toward the edge, almost pushing them off. Royad catches himself on the elevated tiles above a roof window, his gaze locking on mine in warning.
A part of me knows I should be concerned, should be careful, but Ayna is all I can think of. Like a primal need, her name pounds in my blood, driving me on and on into a frenzy I know will only stop once I lay eyes on her and I know she’s all right.
It’s too late for second thoughts anyway. My magic has torn a crater into the structure carrying our weights, and from below, a woman with a warm, brown, lined face and a braid of fire-red hair is staring up at me, the smirk on her mouth telling me that I’ve made a fundamental mistake.
“It could be?—”
“A trap.” Royad finishes for Astorian as the male appears at my side, his arms locked around my chest from behind as he keeps me from tumbling over the frayed edge of the hole gaping at my feet. I’m surprised I haven’t tumbled into it.
Silas shifts into his bird form to prevent himself from falling off the roof and flutters closer. Once back at my side, he shifts into his fae form, his sword in hand, and glances at the sight beneath. “Fuck.”
It’s all there truly is to say.
At the woman’s feet lies a heap of blue and cream fabric smeared with blood—Ayna’s blood.