The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(87)

I stared at him, paralyzed. Razel would kill him if I didn’t, but I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She would destroy everything.

“Is this really necessary?” Ericen demanded.

I whirled around to face him.

He stared imploringly at his mother, his hands clenched. “You’re forcing her to make a difficult choice. Give her time.”

“She doesn’t have a choice.” The amusement in Razel’s voice had vanished, her tone dropping low and predatory. She eyed her son, as if daring him to contradict her again.

He didn’t. He drew back beneath her sharp gaze, averting his own.

Razel nodded to the guard, and she seized the collar of Caylus’s shirt, driving her fist into his jaw. Caylus struck the ground, and the guard kicked him in the stomach.

I stayed rooted to the spot, my nails digging so harshly into my palms, I drew blood. The sound of each punch landing made my skin crawl and my stomach turn. But I didn’t move. I couldn’t give Razel what she wanted. I couldn’t.

The guard paused, looking up at Razel. The queen watched me, waiting like a jungle cat ready to pounce.

Still, I said nothing.

Razel faced Shearen. He seized a dagger from his hip and drove it into Kiva’s shoulder.

I screamed as Kiva screamed, dropping to her knees as Shearen ripped the dagger free and put it to her throat. I stumbled toward her, legs weak, voice breaking. “I’ll show you! Just let her go!”

“Thia, no!” Kiva cried.

Shearen pushed the blade closer to her neck, drawing a thin line of blood.

“I said I’ll show you!” I yelled, looking desperately to Razel. “Take me to the eggs. I’ll show you. Just call him off. Please.”

Shearen pulled the knife away from Kiva’s throat, then drove his foot into the back of her injured shoulder. Kiva cried out, crumpling to the ground.

I surged forward, but Razel stepped into my path. “Wrong way, Thia dear.”

Breathing heavily, I turned toward the door. Something tugged inside me. My heart fluttered as a humming threaded along my skin. In Razel’s arms, Resyries shifted. I felt the cord between us pulse. Then again.

In the midst of everything, with Caylus and Kiva injured, with Ericen standing idly by, Shearen smiling and Razel staring me down with the judgment of a goddess, simply feeling that pulse centered me.

Now. I shoved the word down the line.

Res’s body crackled with lightning.

Razel screamed, releasing him. His wings flared as he tried to catch himself, but the drug was still in his system, and he hit the ground hard. At the same time, a guard yelled and crumpled to the floor, revealing Auma’s small form several feet behind, her arm still outstretched from throwing the knife.

And she wasn’t alone.





Thirty-One


At Auma’s back stood five masked Trendellan monks in black robes. Kuren had told me about them once; they were a special part of Trendell’s small army so well trained in stealth, they could even fool a shadow crow. And now they stood here, at the back of a girl who had vanished in the world’s most heavily guarded city and, with the single throw of a knife, had downed a Vykryn.

The other guard charged one of the monks, but Auma intercepted him. She was so light on her feet, so quick. She slit his throat in an instant.

There was another cry, and I whirled back the other way. Kiva had driven her foot into Shearen’s knee, then stumbled to her feet. Razel yelled for more guards as Shearen regained himself and launched at Kiva, dagger raised.

I seized the torch from the servant and slammed it into Shearen’s chest, throwing him back. His uniform caught fire, and he screamed.

The Trendellan monks broke into action. One surged toward Shearen, who frantically tried to put out the flames on his chest, and another toward Ericen, who stood frozen with shock and indecision. As the monk bore down on him, he broke free of his trance and threw up a block in time to avoid getting hit.

Another monk went for Razel, and she whipped her moonblades from her back. As the shouts of approaching guards echoed from the hall, the other two monks went to meet them.

Auma appeared at my side. I flinched, my mouth opening and closing, everything from words to the simple act of breathing failing me. Then I realized I was holding a flaming column of fire and chucked it across the room. The torch bounced, sending up a shower of sparks before settling against the wall.

“You have to go,” Auma said.

Behind her, Kiva was charging toward us. To my right, Caylus had regained his feet unsteadily. Someone had cut his bonds.

Crouching down, I scooped the disoriented Res into my arms, Auma guarding my back.

“There are horses outside the stables,” she said. “Follow the road west toward the nearest port. Find a ship to take you to the Ambriels. Lie low. Someone will find you.” Nothing of the demure servant was present.

“Who are you?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“There’s no time!”

Kiva and Caylus both reached us. I could tell Caylus was in pain, but he barely grimaced. The tolerance of a fighter. Then I noticed his hands. They weren’t shaking.

Kiva’s eyes went to Auma. They stared at each other for the briefest second, thoughts and questions and flashes of emotion whirring across Kiva’s face, and then Auma shot past her with a brush of her fingers along Kiva’s hand.