Page 60 of Wings of Ink


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“Focus on your magic,” Clio bites at me. “Nothis.”

Myron’s gaze snaps to mine, and for a brief moment, I forget where we are and what I should be doing. All I can see is the heat in his eyes as he catches me staring.

If I ever bed you, it will be because you beg me to.

I don’t know why his words from our wedding banquet float into my mind at this very moment, but there is a part of me that wants to beg—for him to kiss me. To touch me. I’m not sure I’m ready for more with the way my stomach flips. That’s how it started with Ludelle, and we all know where that landed me.

The sensation in my stomach turns into dripping bitterness, and I tear my gaze away from Myron’s to focus on the female with the copper braid.

“On your magic,” she repeats and jerks her chin at me as if that would tell me where to look.

“I’m not even sure I have magic.” It’s the truth, and no matter how much I want to be unbothered by the possibility, it stings. Stings that I am yet again the weak link. I was in my father’s house. My childish naivety got him killed. I was on the Wild Ray where the love Ludelle and I shared got him killed. And I am now—the only human among fairies. Crow or otherwise.

“You do.” Myron’s plain confidence in me is like a stroke of his hand against my cheek and at the same time fear-instilling.

“We’ve been over this. It might have been the lake, not me.”

“It was you.” Again, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“Does it matter? If there’s a kernel of magic within you, I’ll find it,” Clio interrupts us, the expression of the general yielding to that of exasperation. “Now focus, or the only magic you’ll see today is my invisible kick in your ass.”

“Not very princessly of you.” I grimace a half-felt fake grin at her, and she rolls her eyes, turning to Myron.

“Are you sure you still want the bargain?”

Myron only nods, and Clio faces me with her hands braced on her hips.

“All right. Then we’ll need to step it up a bit, or we’ll never get to see your pretty magic, Ayna.”

Jars of water fly from the weapons rack, halting slightly above us in the air.

I don’t get a warning before she dumps their contents over my head.

The only thing flickering to life inside of me is annoyance as I shake out my wet hair with a groan.

From the sidelines, I could swear Myron’s chuckle carries through the frosty air as I gasp through the uncomfortable sensation of half-freezing wet in my collar.

“See?” Clio raises a sardonic brow at me. “That wouldn’t happen if you actually listened to me instead of making googly eyes at your husband.”

I don’t deign her assessment with a response, instead spitting the water out and taking the towel Myron produces from thin air as he strides over, handing it to me.

“She’s got a point,” he whispers as he tucks a strand of wet hair behind my ear, and I can’t stop myself from swatting his chest in a playful way that shouldn’t feel so comfortable with the creature he is.

Myron flicks his fingers, and the empty jars disappear. “That’s enough for today. We continue tomorrow.”

Princess Cliophera strides from the room in the same manner she did the day before, and I wonder what she would say if I begged her to take me with her.

Thirty-One

“What did you trade?”I try for what feels like the hundredth time as Myron walks me back from the training room.

He smooths his feathers out on his left wing—the one turned away from me—obviously avoiding meeting my gaze. “It’s none of your concern.”

It’s easy for him to say that. “It’s my life. And my potential magic,” I snap at him, in a manner that’s so very different from the woman who was scared witless by the powerful monarch at my side mere months ago. “I’d say that makes it my concern.”

Myron shakes his head in a manner that convinces me he’s not going to break, no matter how hard I push. When he doesn’t want to talk, there’s nothing that will make the Crow King speak. At least, it’s not him trying to force information that will get us killed. If he’d traded anything of that sort, he’d have bled striking the bargain—not that I saw him negotiating with Clio, but something tells me it’s nothing that will risk his life or mine. Just something he’d rather keep to himself.

And the secrets just keep piling up.

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