Page 30 of Heart of Night
She gestures at the liquid soaking my shirt, dripping from my hair. “You mean this?” Her smile broadens as she watches me strain against the Fire Fairies’ hold, watching all four of us tear and thrash for freedom. “It’s a little invention Ephegos and I have been working on for a while. Quite useful.”
“I hate to break it to you,” Astorian murmurs from behind me, “but nothing good ever comes from things the Crows touch—or the Fire Fairies,” he adds before I can take offense. “And worst of all if they touch something together.”
The way he says it… Like it’s a joke. But when I listen more closely, there’s fear in his tone. The Askarean general is afraid.
If nothing else, that’s a reason for me to know that we’re in serious trouble.
I’m not certain it is smart to admit to what extent that little invention worked and reveal that I’ve lost access to all of my magic. It’s obvious I’m weakened enough for the Fire Fairies to bring me to my knees, for them to restrain me as sweat beads my skin from my efforts to break free. I haven’t felt this helpless since Ayna was dying next to me. At least then, I had the choice to give myself up to save her. Now, there is nothing I can do. Nothing I have to give that could satisfy the Fire Fairies. So, I hold my tongue.
“We’ve been working on it for a while, and it seems it has the best effect if administered orally, but it’s hard to force something down your throats if you’re all magically shielding, so our best guess was to dump the drug over your heads and see what it does.” The female leans in closer, and I still as realization hits me.
This is a trap. Ayna isn’t here. She might have been at some point, but this—the blood-soaked fabric holding her scent—is the honey laid out to trap a bear. They must have been anticipating I’d eventually come across this estate on my search for my queen. All they needed was a little patience—and some drug that could smother magic.
Gods, if Ayna was treated with the same drug, she might not be able to use her own powers either. She’s as helpless as I am.
There is truly only one question for me to ask—the same question I kept urging Ayna to ask over and over again. The only question that ever matters. “Why?”
The female glances at the Fire Fairies holding the four of us in place. Even Astorian and Silas have followed my lead and stopped fighting a battle they cannot win—for now. Behind Royad’s eyes, I can see the wheels turning. Instead of drawing attention to him by getting involved in the discussion, he’s assessing the brass and cream wallpapers decorating the room, the carved chairs tossed over the polished floors. We’re in a sitting room, not that it makes any difference. Royad is already calculating how to best get out of here, freeing my focus to negotiate if there is anything to negotiate with.
“Oh, Myron,” the female says, too excited for a dire situation like this, except, for her, it must feel like a win to have the Crow King kneeling before her. She’s a Flame after all. “Haven’t you heard? The King of Tavras is eager to announce his engagement to a recently recovered Tavrasian noblewoman, and Ephegos and I helped him retrieve his bride for him—in return for our own conditions, of course.”
Everything crumples inside of me. She can’t mean?—
“What conditions?” Astorian demands in that cold general’s tone I am familiar with, and now that I’ve seen a different side of him, it’s hard to consolidate those two versions of him in my mind.
The sound of a fist hitting flesh comes from his general direction, followed by a groan, and a Flame hisses, “You only speak when spoken to, fairy scum.”
I manage to turn my head enough to spot the blood trickling from the corner of Astorian’s mouth.
“You are mighty curious for an all-knowing fairy,” the female taunts as she steps past me to take a closer look at him. “Not so powerful without the King of Askarea and his armies at your disposal, are you?”
I don’t know if they’ve met before, but the enmity is one to last for eons if the hatred in Astorian’s eyes is anything to go by. He spits out the blood to the side, nearly hitting one of his captors.
“The conditions are between Ephegos, King Erina, and me.” She turns on the spot, pivoting toward me and shoving the fabric with Ayna’s blood in my face without warning. My fae reflexes are still there, allowing me to avoid the full impact as I turn my head to the side. There is no escaping the devastation spreading in my stomach as I realize there is only one reason they would lure me here: Ephegos knows I’m alive, and he isn’t done with his revenge.
Fifteen
Ayna
The palace of Meer is larger than I remembered with its towers tipped with roofs shaped like onions and vast hallways where too many golden doors lead to reception rooms, sitting rooms, banquet halls, and rooms I don’t know the use for. I haven’t set foot in the palace since my childhood, and I could have done without it for the rest of my life. I don’t have a choice, though, as Herinor walks me up the stairs leading from the roof-high entrance hall to the first floor where I remember the throne room to be.
Guards in black and blue stand along the walls, their uniforms plain compared to the colorful tapestries lining the space between doors and columns. The knife brushing my thigh every other step is a reassuring weight even when I can’t grab for it without exposing my leg. For now, it’ll have to do. I don’t wear armor, but I hold my chin high the way I used to at the Crow Palace. Herinor is a few strides behind me, his presence as much a comfort as it is a threat. If Ephegos orders him to hurt me, he’ll have to do it. There is no way around it for him other than the choice of how to hurt me. Not so comforting now that I think of it.
At our approach, a man in an entirely black uniform hurries toward us, bowing low at the waist as he stutters, “Wolayna Milevishja. His Majesty is awaiting your arrival.” He straightens, already walking as he turns his balding head to glance at me with light blue eyes. “Follow me.”
There is no sign of excitement or fear in his middle-aged face as he looks over Herinor. Whatever position he holds at court exempts him from ever picking up a weapon, I assume. I’ve seen such people in noble households before. Men and women who deliver messages for their lords and ladies, whose weapons are manners and knowledge.
Something about him reminds me of Ephegos, and my stomach churns beneath the intricate shirt.
“Don’t forget to smile,” Herinor reminds me as we do as the man said and make our way into a wide hallway leading toward a set of open double doors covered in golden filigree. I instantly miss the dark plainness of Myron’s palace in the Seeing Forest.
Myron—
“And don’t show him your emotions. Keep a cool head. It’s the only weapon you can use in here without drawing attention.” Herinor spent the entire carriage ride briefing me on the current state of Erina’s court. The nobles in charge and the etiquette required. My head is full near bursting, and I’d prefer taking a long, peaceful nap over setting foot anywhere near the man Ephegos is selling me to. No matter that we shared croissants under banquet tables as children.
I discreetly tap my skirts. “I remember.”
In this palace, at least, I don’t need to worry about being overheard by fairies of any sort. This is human territory, and Herinor and Ephegos are the only immortal creatures with superior hearing. Erina and his guards must rely on their human senses to protect their king. Not that I’d get anywhere near Erina with the small knife before someone would intercept and execute me on the spot.