Page 92 of Heart of Night
“She has a bone to pick with you just as much as I do.”
That’s putting it mildly.
I draw the water farther and farther in, moisture kissing my fingertips as I pull on the humidity in the air, the trickles of fluid from buckets in cells, and even the spill of Royad’s blood on the floor where it seeps through the barrier Ephegos has put up. I don’t care where it comes from as long as it hits Ephegos in the face.
“Is that so?” Ephegos cocks his head, features shifting into those of a bird, sharp beak and all, and hands turning into claws. His voice becomes a hiss, all black eyes tracking my movements as I shift on my legs for better balance.
Using the knife in my hand to distract his focus from my magic-wielding, mangled one, I take a slow step toward him. Myron follows, putting his shoulder between the Crow and me, and Katrijanov’s hand twitches closer to Royad’s throat.
“And there I thought I’d given it all to you. A kingdom, a king, a throne.” Ephegos pauses, unsheathing his own sword as he studies the ire in my eyes.
“I already have a king.” I stand beside Myron, my shoulder brushing his arm as I remind both of us who and what we are. Crow King and Queen. We are the Crow Court, the Crow Kingdom, the future of the Crows. If we fall—if Royad falls—everything Myron fought for will be in vain.
“Oh, but Myron is the past, Ayna. His court is dying. His people despise him, allying with the Flames his father once ordered killed. You’re wasting your time with him. While Erina is the future. He might be only a human king, but his reign will expand to the magical lands in no time.” There is more to this than what he’s saying, but those few words are enough to put my self-control to the test.
“Erina is a monster, just like you.” It’s a challenge in itself to keep my voice level, but I manage that cold calculated tone I’m going for. If Myron can handle standing rooted to the spot, I can handle keeping my emotions off my face.
Letting my gaze drift across the room, I collect myself, but only for a brief moment until my eyes meet Herinor’s, and the apprehension there speaks deep to my soul. He looks away, widening his stance as he takes in the guards in front of him instead. It would be easy for him to cut them down with one, powerful swipe of his sword. Easier even to knock them out with his magic. But would that count as aiding me? Would such a gesture cost him his life?
“Erina is a fool to believe he could ever take Askarea.” Myron’s tone is completely devoid of emotion. “You have lived through the Crow Wars. You know how powerful they are even in smaller numbers.
“Erina has found a way to speed up the production of the nullifying drug.” The smirk on Ephegos’s face makes my stomach turn. Why is the water taking so long to collect? Why isn’t there more? At least, no one has noticed the thin trickle splitting from the pool of Royad’s blood where crimson powder remains on our side of Ephegos’s shield.
But if what he says is true… I don’t want to think about what that means for the fairylands, for Clio and her family. For all of Eherea—because, once he has Askarea, who says he’ll stop there. Cezux is human territory, as is the Southern Continent. Easy targets once he commands an army of fairies by controlling their powers.
My stomach is full of lead, but I keep my head high and my magic flowing. The water is nearly there. I can feel it in my veins like a tide.
“Unfortunately, we’re at an impasse here.” Don’t look at Myron or at Royad. Don’t look at Herinor. Keep your focus on Ephegos. “I have no interest in a new husband—see, since I’m already married.” To my mate. But I don’t add that.
As if in response, the tattoo tingles with power. Myron is raising his own defenses once more. His defenses and the sort of power that can blow up walls. A memory of explosions in the Crow Palace floats into my mind, and I wonder if this is something all Crows can do and it has nothing to do with the Flames. Perhaps it was the breaking of the curse that gave the Crows back their full powers and they simply weren’t able to handle them properly.
That would mean Ephegos wields that same magic.
It’s a little late to worry if it was a good idea to come here at all. There’s no running now. We need to push through the barrier and grab Royad before his life is forfeit. That will leave only one of us to fight with our full attention and both hands free on our way out. A part of me wishes she’d thought it through better.
“Not yet.” Ephegos is still smirking, the bastard. “But you will feel a dramatic urge to marry him once Myron is back on this table”—Ephegos taps the empty metal surface beside him where Myron’s blood is still crusted below layers of that of Silas and Astorian. What kind of sick person does that—“and your only way to spare him the pain will be to say yes to Erina of Tavras.”
I shudder at the mere thought of it. Of course, Myron dives right through the threat, demanding answers rather than cowering with fear. “What do you get out of it, Ephegos?”
That’s the one question I’ve been dying to get an answer to. It can’t be merely the reestablishing of the Crow Court as their king. Ephegos is too power-hungry to be satisfied with whatever few Crows are left to rule.
Claws bending into fishlike gestures, Ephegos steps closer to the magical barrier. I swear I can see the air shift, a sign that his power isn’t impenetrable everywhere. There are weaknesses, and I need to use them—after I take down Katrijanov. Because I can’t touch Ephegos as long as Katrijanov holds a blade to Royad’s throat. My friend will be dead before the water reaches the Crow. It has to be the general first.
“You are too short-sighted for a king, Myron.” Ephegos lifts his fists at his sides. “That’s always been your problem, or the Crows would have followed you until the end. But they didn’t. They followed me. Even your friend Herinor followed me.”
I try not to pay attention to the way Herinor shrinks an inch or how Myron’s muscles bulge in his arm. It’s only a matter of moments until this situation blows up—literally, if Ephegos doesn’t hold his beak.
A shudder runs down my spine at the sight of his feathered face, his sharp claws, his featherless arms where burn marks mar his skin. His jacket has disappeared the way all their clothes disappear when the Crows shift into their bird forms—a trick I yet need to master or I’ll end up naked every single time I shift. If I ever shift again.
“Whoever followed you is doomed.” Myron’s tone is dead ice in a colorless desert, and I believe Herinor’s eyes are widening, but I don’t allow myself to take a closer look.
“So here is my proposal for the two of you. You give yourselves up. Royad goes free. I don’t track down the Askarean general and won’t kill Silas purposefully. How does that sound?” With a twitch of his claw, he has the barrier withdrawing a few inches toward him, as if tightening the shield when he knows he’ll need his strength for offensive magic, the glimmering dimming into a visual hum. Royad and the table he’s strapped to are still behind the wards though.
The wards…
Our magic started unweaving the wards on our kingdom, and Crows started roaming the fairylands again.
It’s been a while since I was told about how the Crows managed to escape the Seeing Forest first, even when wards had been placed around it to lock them in by the Askarean fairies, but now that it sprang to my mind, I can’t ignore the urge to test the theory quickly forming in my mind.