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And they’ve stopped struggling, their limbs floating lifelessly in the water.
“Enough,” I tell the lake as I rush down the stairs, taking two steps at once. My boots pound the slick stone as I grab onto the handrail with my bad hand, desperate to keep my weapon and my balance at once.
When I make it down to the lake, the water raises a wave as in question, and I nod at it. “Thank you.” I don’t stop where the liquid slushes over the lowest steps but hop right into the water.
Before my feet touch the floor, the lake retreats, rolling and winding and coiling until it is a thread of glimmering silver climbing to the upper levels. By the time I drop into a crouch by Myron’s side, the stone is clean and dry, and the two assassins lay stranded and dead.
Thirty-Three
A groan runsthrough Myron’s body then right through my very heart as he stirs under a light touch of my fingers.
“You…” Blood trickles from his mouth in a fresh streak of crimson, covering the old, drying one. “Saved…”
“Shhh—” I place my finger over his lips. “Keep your strength for healing. Because I didn’t beg the murderous lake for aid just so you can die on me once the assassins are taken care of.”
I’m not surprised when Myron’s mouth twitches in half amusement, half disapproval, and it fucking breaks my heart right at the center. How he manages to look breathtaking even at the brink of death, I am not even trying to understand. It’s way too late to convince myself that I am not entirely lost when it comes to the king splayed before me. Lost—because if I weren’t, I wouldn’t just have put everything at risk to protect him. I would have let the Crows be done with him and made a run for it.
I’m fucked. I truly am.
“Can you stand?” I ask as he slowly coils into a sitting position, flexing his wing arms. By the Guardians?—
Bruises spread along his chest and abdomen, stretching along his side all the way to his spine.
“What did they do to you?”
Myron’s gaze snaps to follow my own, landing on the purple blotch right above his heart. “This”—he coughs, pauses, and takes a deep breath before he continues—“is a minor nuisance.” He brushes off the dust from his pants as he gets to his feet like nothing happened. Only my months of studying the Crow King tell me that his injuries are far from a nuisance. It’s in the way his hands slightly tremble as he tucks them to his sides, in the way his features tighten as he takes a step. Well, then there is the blood and bruises. Big giveaway.
“Stop being a Guardiansforsaken proud bastard, and let me help you.” I don’t ask permission as I grab his hand and drape his wing across my shoulder with as much gentleness as my mild annoyance allows. Apparently, fairy males are no different from men when it comes to injuries. Both are too scared to admit to weakness even when it’s obvious they just nearly died.
Myron grunts a protest, but I prop him against my side and tug him along toward the stairs. “You can’t half-carry me up there.”
“You have no idea what I can do.” I grit out the words as we make it to the first of the polished steps and I drag him along. “I just summoned a lake to make sure those monsters”—another step—“can’t finish their job.” And another. “I used to be the one to get away with the least injuries on loots because I’m quicker than most of the crew of the Wild Ray was.” Ignoring the ache in my chest at the mention of my former family, I push my own and half of Myron’s weight up the next step.
“Right.” The bitterness in his tone strikes me as odd, but I attribute it to the pain he’s in. “I wouldn’t know. Because you never told me anything about your past.”
“Not that you ever needed to ask. You already know everything there is to know about me.” Another step and another. We’re making good progress here with anything but our communication. “Apparently, your spies are effective even far, far away from the borders of your Seeing Forest. Which means I shouldn’t need to tell you what I’m capable of.”
Myron grunts again as I rush the next step, my shoulder shoving into his side. “Just because I know about your past doesn’t mean I know anything about you.” His tone is so strained I fear his voice might snap. The pain he must be in?—
“Ready to admit they nearly killed you?” I put more force into the next step just to prove a point.
Gritting his teeth, Myron follows my movements. Naturally, I pretend not to notice the little wince escaping his carefully crafted control.
“You know you were unconscious when I brought the lake down on those monsters.”
“Monsters,” he echoes so low I barely pick up the different sort of pain in his voice as we make it to the top of the stairs. He braces his other hand on the railing, glancing down the entrance hall where a splatter of blood is the only sign of the fight that nearly killed him.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and settled so you can use that sublime power of yours to heal yourself.”
He doesn’t argue when I pull him along, his weight settling against my side more with every step. He’s exhausted, and we both know it. If another assassin is lurking in these hallways, neither of us will be able to defend ourselves, so our best chance is to get him into his room where his wards will lock out any assailant who dares try to get to him.
“Where are the guards?” I ask when we’re halfway toward his door.
His feathers slide along my neck as he takes a glance around as if he is only noticing now that the hallways are deserted. “The rebel Crows must have taken them out.” The simmering anger in his tone is nothing compared to the fury building inside of me. “Or they never were loyal.” The thing with never letting me wander the palace on my own suddenly makes a whole lot more sense.
“There’s a reason I only trust Royad and E—” He stops mid-word, his free hand aiming at the door as we make it there, and it swings open at the magical command.
“Ephegos,” I whisper, my chest clenching at how close I came to losing Myron just the way I lost my friend.
