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Myron’s hand slides from my spine, and Royad’s head whips around, eyes narrowing as he realizes I’ve been standing there all along. “Shaelak is an ancient god. None who would have followed us to Eherea, so you probably haven’t heard of him.”
It’s the most unfiltered statement I’ve ever gotten from him, and there’s not one single drop of blood appearing on his lips, so this must be a safe topic—or as safe as anything can be in this realm.
Also—“If you pray to a god who isn’t native to Eherea … where exactly are you from?”
Both Myron and Royad are still as the rocks lying at the bottom of the ocean as my gaze bounces back and forth between them, and I’m ready to put that topic into the collection of those they are reluctant to talk about when, from behind me, the growl of the spymaster rumbles through the empty dining room.
“It’s not as important where we’re from as long as we know where we’re going.” His gaze is waiting for me as I whirl around to face the scary creature who has brought nothing but bad news so far.
“Whereareyou going?” I’m not certain whether he means it metaphorically or if he has an actual location in mind.
Ephegos’s eyes are calm as he glances to Myron for permission to speak. The latter gestures at the relatively short Crow—just an inch or two taller than me—and gives a small smile. “Wolayna, meet Ephegos, one of the most skilled ward breakers among the Crows and my spymaster.”
Ephegos shudders, and the feathers seem to drop from his features, as does the beak as he shifts in a flash, leaving his claw-tipped winged arms the only sign he’s actually a Crow. His slick, rye-blond hair is bound at the nape of his neck, and his chest and abdomen are as impressive as Royad’s or Myron’s. I keep my eyes on Ephegos, meeting the male’s gaze as he dips his chin in a gesture of respect. It’s the first time anyone here has done that, so I’ll take it.
“Pleasure to meet you, Ephegos.” I try my best smile, earning a huff from Myron and throat-clearing from Royad.
To his credit, Ephegos ignores both males, striding over and throwing his arms around me as with a long-lost sister. My heart stops beating until the shock dissolves and I realize he isn’t about to tear me to ribbons or hack my eyes out with his beak.
With a chuckle that evokes an innate sense of safety with this fairy, he pulls away, holding me at arms’ length, careful to keep his claws from cutting my skin where he wraps them around my shoulders. “If I may say, you’re even more beautiful than Myron told me.”
The warning hiss shooting from Myron’s throat makes me like Ephegos even more.
“Interesting. He hasn’t told me a thing about you,” I joke, my lips curving in response to the infectious grin he’s giving me.
“Myron tends to downplay the truth, and I swear itisthe truth in your case.” Ephegos cocks his head as he looks me over.
“As for you, not so much,” Myron cuts in, sounding more annoyed than genuinely upset. “That’s probably why I didn’t bring you up. Plus, I tend to not advertise the existence of my spies.”
Letting go of me, Ephegos saunters to Myron’s side, patting the king’s feathered shoulder as he laughs. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with not wanting to keep from her the incredibly handsome Crow that I am?” He winks at me, but it’s not the sly, hungry way I’ve had men wink at me as they devoured me with their eyes. It’s more like he is sharing an inside joke with me. Which, I have to admit, takes me by surprise even more than the sound of Royad’s snort-laugh. I don’t know where I ended up, but this is not the fortress of doom I was brought to with the prospect of losing my life as a bride. This is a glimpse at a friendship, one older than my existence. At a bond I hadn’t believed possible among beaked and winged monsters.
I need to sit down before my legs give out at what I’m witnessing.
“I’m sure that’s why.” I give him a wink of my own to conceal how much I’m struggling to come to terms with this entirely new side of the Crow King and his two friends.
“See?” Ephegos gestures at Myron as if to make a point. “Perhaps we should let the brides choose their Crow husbands after all. Perhaps this dazzler would have a healthier color in her pretty cheeks if she got to experience what a Crow lover can do.”
“Shut your filthy beak, Eph,” Royad snaps, but there isn’t any bite behind it. “She’ll think we’re all savages?”
“Aren’t you?” I throw into the group, wondering if this time I’ve gone too far, but Royad bursts out in laughter and Ephegos claps. The only one remaining silent is Myron, whose face has gone even paler.
“The two of them certainly are,” he says without as much as a hint of humor. “Besides, my females haven’t complained in centuries.”
“That’s because you haven’t had a female in centuries,” Ephegos points out with an all-too-cheerful grin. He shakes his head at Myron before wrapping his arm around the king’s shoulders and pulling him to his side as if he’s about to share a secret, then says loud enough for me to hear, “That’s all right, Myron. Perhaps next year’s bride will prefer your brooding darkness over my outstandingly sightly self.” He gestures down his front as if to emphasize those muscles and tight leather pants. As he catches me watching, he raises a brow at me in mock scandal. “No peeking, Wolayna. Your husband won’t like that.”
Myron groans with exasperation. “Remind me again why I keep you in my court?”
All Ephegos does is nudge his king’s shoulder with a fisted claw. “That’s why you made me your spymaster. It keeps me well away most of the time.”
I’m not sure if they’re joking, but Royad’s amused features tell me there is no imminent danger the two of them will tear each other’s heads off, so I refrain from worrying unless there’s a real reason—like a hallway’s worth of smoke originating from one single torch.
“What happened out there? And why did the others all flee?” The table is a mess of abandoned cutlery and knocked-over wine glasses. A few chairs fell when the Crow’s leaped to their feet and shifted.
“Because they’re cowards, that’s what they are.” Ephegos’s nose wrinkles in disgust as he scans the scene. “And because there isn’t much any of them can do against a real fire. They have magic, yes, the base version of it. Nothing as powerful as Royad’s or mine.” He stalks toward the end of the table, bracing his claws on the backrest. “And, of course, like Myron’s. As Crow King, his magic is unparalleled. Only the Fairy King and his mate can match his power.”
Before I can interject what exactly thatmatebusiness means, he continues. “Feathers burn easily, Ayna. Any Crow would do well to flee.”
“But you didn’t.” It’s a simple observation. “Neither of you three did.”
