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When I trudge up the stairs next to Ephegos an hour of listening to political hick-hacks later, the Crow is oddly quiet. I’m not complaining that he isn’t throwing me smiles the way he usually does when my mind is preoccupied with the nagging sensation that Myron isn’t the only one who cares in this marriage neither of us wants. I don’t know what to do with that revelation, so I shove it to the lowest depths of my being and tell myself that the warm feeling when I think about how the Crow King might actually care aboutme, not because of what I am but because ofwhoI am, is actually only lukewarm at best.
“Those meetings really are a pain.” Ephegos finally breaks his silence as we reach the hallway leading to Myron’s room. His gaze slides along the carvings on the walls, a pensiveness I haven’t noticed before taking over his features.
“What do the Crows hope to win by ridding the world of their king?” It’s a simple question, but I already know there’s no simple answer.
And that’s what Ephegos tells me right before he places a claw on my arm as he stops us both in the middle of the hallway. “I like you, Ayna. You’re good for Myron. But most of the Crows don’t see it that way. Even if he might have returned to his old self—more than he has been in decades—it’s not enough to change anything. We’re still stuck in the Seeing Forest by his bargain with the Fairy King, and we are still stuck in these hideous—” He lifts an arm, beating it up and down in a display of his thickly feathered, capable wings.
His breathing has become shallow and his complexion paler than the usual golden. There is no blood on his lips, though, so I assume he hasn’t spoken anything that will kill him.
Driven by curiosity as much as fascination as I stare at the feathers lining his arm and neck, unfolding over his features as if to hide them until his nose and mouth turn into a beak with an orange fleck on the side, I whisper, “You can shift into the full shape of a bird.” Because I’ve seen them all do it. “But can you shed those feathers and claws completely?” My hand shakes as I lift it to touch his forearm, sliding down to his wrist where the feathers thin until a set of long, sharp claws emerges from the layer of shimmery black.
I could swear Ephegos isn’t breathing as his beak opens and closes, grabbling for words or for air or for something else entirely—courage perhaps.
Eventually, he shakes his head. “Not in millennia.” This time, as he speaks in the growly hiss that is his bird voice, a droplet of crimson drips from his beak, and I know I’ve asked something of substance. And he was willing to suffer to give me the answer I sought.
I don’t stop him when he continues walking but follow all the way to Myron’s door where he shifts back into his human form long enough to open the door for me and give the two Crow guards left and right a warning glance.
“Stay in here,” he tells me before he turns, that pensive look back on his face that makes him appear less like the humorous friend I’ve gotten to know him as and more like a male pondering a walk to the gallows.
As he turns to leave, I grab his shoulder lightly. Instead of halting, he spins around like he’s ready to fight, his reflexes so fast my heart leaps into my throat as a whip of magic cracks in the air right beside my head.
Ephegos’s eyes are wide, whether it is because he was genuinely expecting an attack or because he can’t believe I so casually touched his monster’s arm, I don’t know. He blows out a slow breath, eyes shuttering a few times as he reels back his power at the lack of danger.
My heart thunders in my throat, but I swallow it down and give him a small smile as he relaxes. “What can I do to help?”
At first, he doesn’t seem to understand that I want to know if there is anything I can do to help them out of whatever this mess that seems to be their people’s existence is even if I am still lacking the exact definition of how everything fits together. I know something is wrong. Something that’s keeping them from telling me the truth. Like a spell cast upon them to stew in their own misery without the ability to ask for aid.
So, I offer it. No matter what it implies, it must be better than watching these two fronts fighting each other internally—than to see the only three people I have left in my life torn apart by it. Ephegos obviously is, and so is Royad every time he tries to answer my frequent question and bleeds for it. And Myron…
I don’t even want to begin thinking about the Crow King. He is an enigma of feathers and beauty, of malice and gentleness. And I’m starting to believe that he could be so much more if only he was set free from that spell.
“Stay in his room,” Ephegos says with an unreadable expression on his face. “Stay here and survive. It’s the best you can do. Time is what will help.” The last word is a wince—which is all the confirmation I need that I am on the right track. But Ephegos is bleeding from the corner of his mouth now, and I don’t dare push when I have the distinct feeling that he’ll answer whether it’ll kill him or not.
So, I squeeze his feathered shoulder then pull my hand back, holding his gaze as his eyelids flutter until the shimmering sheen of wetness leaves his gaze.
There has to be something I can do. Maybe Ephegos can’t tell me, but I’ll find out anyway.
“Tell Myron to come up soon.” I add a smile to what is supposed to be a request from friend to friend, not an order by his queen—I’m still struggling to come to terms with the thought of being the Crow Queen. No one calls me by the title, and I pretend it doesn’t exist.
At my change of topic, Ephegos relaxes, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his claw. “I’ll tell him you’re waiting for him, but he’ll be busy for a while.”
I don’t ask with what, and Ephegos doesn’t offer any more explanation. When he finally turns to leave, he stops mid-motion, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re trapped here with us, Ayna. You deserve better than this.”
Twenty-Four
His words followme into the room as I close the door in the guards’ faces. They heard every last bit of the exchange, and judging by how they cock their bird heads, they are as curious about what Ephegos meant as I am. But it’s not for them to know, so I retreat into the room and settle on the edge of the bed I’ve been sleeping in for weeks.
Yet, it’s not merely what Ephegos said. It’s the entire meeting, the entrance of the female with the copper hair, the way she seemed surprised that I’m still alive. The warning she delivered and the raging discussion it triggered among the Crows. And most of all, Myron.
Since there is no way to stop my circling thoughts, I push back to my feet and start getting ready for bed. Maybe a shower will help clean off the day and rinse away all unclarities as to how I can do anything to help Myron, Royad, and Ephegos.
I’m halfway to the bathing room door when dull screams from the hallway catch my attention, and instead of continuing into the promise of a hot shower and relaxed muscles, I pivot to the door leading from the room. There, I lay my ear on the carved wood.
Outside, pounding footsteps rush along the stone tiles. Is that the clinking of metal against metal?
My pulse picks up speed, matching the pace of the Crow’s boots. Not in all the weeks I’ve spent in this palace have I heard anything like it. Not even when the smoke assaulted the dining room and they all dispersed. They merely turned into birds and fluttered to safety.
This is different. There is fighting going on, I’m sure of it.
