The Winged Assassin

by Gwynn White

  Klaus’s eyebrows flickered. After a moment of heavy silence, he whispered, “Concentrate on the positives. Give thanks that it makes you powerful. Sometimes threat is all that’s ever needed.”

  True. Every bully knew that. But she’d never bullied anyone in her life. Nor had she intentionally hurt anyone who hadn’t harmed her or her loved ones first. And then the force she’d used had always been proportional. The ease with which she tossed around white heat had no counterbalance.

  Until it did.…

  She sighed. So much to think about to adapt to this new life that fate—or someone—had thrust on her. She’d be so much happier to focus on the miracle of Klaus’s healing. She ran her fingers across the ripples on his hand. “The scars—Averin says he’ll find a restorer in Zephyr to remove them.”

  “Not a chance.” He pulled his hand away to rub the bubbled skin on his neck. “These scars are proof that I helped take Angharad. I wear them with pride.”

  She smiled. “Then let it be so. He’s also promised to appoint a healer to fix your leg, if you want.” Please let him agree so she could finally shift the guilt of being responsible for his injury. He’d jumped in front of a falling log to save her.

  He patted his mangled leg. “Now that’s a service I won’t refuse.”

  Klaus had changed. Eliezar had once said that places like Angharad changed people. They had to. Angharad had changed Klaus as certainly as it had changed her. Except that Klaus had gained confidence, while hers had been seriously dented. She’d never had a problem feigning swagger—until her terrible white heat had boiled that soldier without her even touching him. Now she’d have to figure out how to stop fear ripping away her carefully-constructed façade masking her thoughts and deepest emotions.

  She snorted quietly. That was hardly in the spirit of rough honesty. Maybe her human glamour had only run skin-deep. Perhaps at heart, she was and always had been a secretive fae who shared herself only with those she truly trusted—like Averin did with Trystaen and Eliezar, or Boa with—

  Her frown deepened. Seconds after Lucas’s death, Boa had already padlocked her heart. Seemed the true Queen of Ocea kept a very close council.

  Klaus cocked his head. “You look exhausted.” He lay down next to the sleeping fae younglings and pulled her head onto his stomach. Before Angharad, she’d have insisted that he lie on her.

  Another lesson learned there—she’d never again baby Klaus. Although not quite eighteen, he was a man and deserved to be treated with respect. That included ensuring he was party to every decision affecting both their lives. He was far more logical than her, anyway. She needed his gentle wisdom.

  “I’ve so much else to tell you,” she whispered. “The morning can’t come quickly enough for all of that.”

  Klaus mussed her hair. “Sleep so it comes quicker.”

  She snuggled down on him, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. It took her straight back to the forests of Askavol, where she, Klaus, and Tarik had fled, laughing, with bread and honey stolen from the Kňazer’s pantry.

  A world away.…

  Klaus’s chest rumbled beneath her ear. “You’ve changed,” he whispered, as if he’d clean forgotten that he’d told her to sleep. “Physically. You look stronger, more streamlined.” His voice hitched. “And beautiful. Really, really striking. Especially with your gray eyes.” She held her breath. “You’d give any of the women fae here a run for their money. Even your ears… they’re…” He sniggered. “After causing so much trouble back in Askavol, I’m loath to say they’re pretty, but they do fit your face.”

  She shifted, and her hip jarred against the stony ground. “Still skinny as a wraith, though.”

  He hugged her. “It’s what keeps you almost human, like the rest of us. Don’t change it. At least not too much.”

  Stasha was still awake on Klaus’s chest long after sleep had slowed his breathing.

  What terrible thing awaited her in Zephyr?

  Would Averin and his family allow her to leave the moment she set foot in the palace if that’s what she wanted? If they didn’t, and she had to sneak out like a thief, would they send an army after her, Klaus, and Suren?

  What a silly question. Even the youngest Askavol orphan would know the answer to that. Averin and his family would undoubtedly send the Azura to hunt her down and drag her back. She was the living weapon with white heat.

  The only way she, Klaus, and Suren could ever leave Zephyr would be to fight their way out. So, in reality, she was giving up her freedom by going to Zephyr.

  Is that what Averin refused to admit? He knew she was a flight risk—she’d been plotting an escape when she met him. How lucky for him that she’d traded his help to free Klaus in exchange for her presence in Zephyr. Now that Klaus and the others were free, it seemed she’d gotten the wrong end of that bargain.

  Much like her deal with the Tiyanak.

  She grimaced. If she was to continue trading with fae and their monsters, she’d have to hone her bargaining skills.

  Yet Boa had no problem with her leaving the rebels to go to Zephyr. How could that be?

  A memory from Boa’s camp before the raid came flooding back. In Boa’s presence, Trystaen had falsely accused Averin of forcing Stasha into a bond on her life should Stasha renege on her deal to go Zephyr. Even though the outrageously cruel lie had maligned Averin, he hadn’t denied it.

  Her stomach bubbled sourly. Best not to romanticize Princess Boadicea of Ocea. It was only Boa’s belief that Stasha would die if she didn’t fulfill her deal with Averin that stopped Boa from claiming her.

  Then there was King Darien who wanted her. And, no doubt, Queen Calarel Adonis, the long-absent fae queen of Atria. Spies would have told her that the “weapon” had been found in a benighted village in her kingdom. What greater claim to ownership was there than that? Queen Calarel probably had soldiers hunting her too.

  And not to forget that she wanted a meeting with King Darien. For this war to end, he had to die. She could only achieve that goal if she mastered her magic and pulled a huge army of fae together to attack his capital. The only way to master her magic would be through lessons with Eliezar.

  Acid gnawed away at her stomach. She’d come full circle. No matter how unpleasant or dangerous Zephyr was, she had to stay until Eliezar had trained her to use her magic—even against him and the royals he supported, if needed.

  Could anything be more frustrating?

  The only positive was that Klaus would be healed. She hugged her burning stomach as another realization settled on her. Klaus would also be a hostage in Zephyr. How easy it would be for Averin and his family to threaten Klaus to force her to use her magic against her conscience. A crying shame that, but it was undeniable. She’d already proven that there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect Klaus.

  If she were to survive in this conniving fae world, she had to protect her fire and water magic from all grasping fae royals who sought to exploit her and control her powers. The same royals who, for centuries, had refused to work together to destroy Darien. If they’d united right at the start of the war, they probably could have defeated him. And it was these same self-interested, inward-looking fae who wanted to take control of her mighty magic. The only person who should have power and authority over how and when her magic was used was her.

  Her stomach grumbled noisily.

  That left the least qualified person—her—in charge of deciding when to let off the fireworks. A recipe for disaster.

  There had to be some unpartisan person she could trust to guide her on how and when to use her magic. Pity she had no idea who to appoint to the task. She sighed and stared at the glowing tree.

  Gentle yet powerful magic stroked her senses.

  She juddered in a sharp breath. How could she be so blind when the answer was glaringly obvious? Another bargain was called for.

  She grabbed her pendant, looked at the tree, and spoke softly, intently, to the magic in both of them. “I’ll make
you a deal. I pledge that I will stay in Zephyr until I’ve mastered my magic and can wield my white heat without unintentionally killing anyone. In exchange, I ask that my magic refuse to obey any fae except me. And if I’m being a complete idiot, nudge me.”

  Did that cover everything? She bit her lip as her head rose and fell with each of Klaus’s even breaths.

  Cover it? Not by a mile.

  “Even if they threaten Klaus—” She winced at her how her list of loved-ones had grown. “Or my other friends.”

  She wracked her brain, looking for more loopholes. Averin may have made her toes curl, but he was still a cunning fae with an agenda he’d ruthlessly enforce. No matter what angle she looked at it from, she saw no gaping holes.

  “That’s my offer.” Every muscle tense, she held her breath for the tree’s answer.

  The light beaming out of it flickered. The magic in her core pulsed with such ferocity, she recoiled from it. Slowly, peace seeped into her stomach and settled, warm and comfortable in her core.

  The magic must have accepted her deal. She would learn to control her power, and when she did, she’d use every ounce of it—white heat included—to end the fae war that had ravaged Zathryth for over a thousand years. A war that had destroyed so many lives, hers and Klaus’s included.

  Averin, the other Zephyr royals, King Darien, even Boa, had no idea what they had just unleashed.

  Stasha sat bolt upright and listened. The temple silence was disturbed only by the gentle, underlying rumble of people sleeping.

  What had woken her?

  Across the cavern, at the tunnel entrance, someone shifted.

  An intruder? Averin had warded the gate, so it had to be the guard on watch. That knowledge didn’t stop mist coating her skin. Before she could suppress her water magic, the person shuffled into the tree’s soft glow.

  Averin.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief and lay back on Klaus’s chest to watch Averin prowl across the temple. He would have heard that she was awake, but he didn’t even glance in her direction.

  Ouch. Another handful of salt tossed into the chasm he’d gouged in her heart with half-truths that hinted at danger in Zephyr but confirmed nothing.

  She started to roll away from him but was stopped by a flurry of stabbing pain. It was as if fire ants bit her. The power causing it seemed to be coming from the tree. She shifted, not knowing where to swat first. As she raked her fingers up her leg, her water magic tossed nauseatingly in her core. She lurched up to hug her stomach.

  It didn’t help.

  Careful not to wake Klaus and the sleeping younglings, she stood and tiptoed to the tree. It had been pinging her with magic since she’d arrived, but nothing like this.

  It had to have something to do with the bargain she’d made.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  She almost jumped out of her skin.

  Averin stood behind her. He’d moved so silently that she hadn’t heard him coming.

  She scowled and nodded. “The magic… it’s making me uncomfortable.” She kept her voice low so as not to wake the others.

  His perfect dark eyebrows rose. “That’s weird,” he whispered. “Explain?”

  “I don’t know. I just—” She shot more than a foot up into the air. Arms and feet flailing, she hovered for a moment and then crashed feet-first onto the ground. Jarring pain knocked the air out of her. Before she’d even drawn a breath, fire burst through her skin and right through her clothes. Dancing wildly, it sheathed her from head to toe. So much for her forge being cold.

  Averin reached for her but stopped. In a blur, he held a sword in one hand while wind eddied from the other. “Stasha, speak to me,” he hissed. “What’s happening?”

  Her flame split into at least a hundred hair-thin threads that arrowed across the temple to the wrought-iron gate. They shot through Averin’s wards and vanished down the tunnel. In her mind’s eye, she saw them twist and swirl at the tunnel entrance on the side of the mountain. More fire poured, unbidden, from her. It raced across the temple to wreathe the gate. No one would get in or out of the temple.

  Her blood lit with fury that her magic had acted entirely of its own accord, without even a word from her. This wasn’t part of her deal with the tree. She lifted her foot to give the tree a swift kick but was stopped by Eliezar and Trystaen, who sprinted over with swords in hand.

  “What’s going on?” A sharp rock Trystaen had scooped up with his earth magic hovered at his fingertips.

  Eliezar watched her with piercing eyes. “Is the magic talking to you?”

  Talking to her? What kind of dumb-ass question was that? Her magic hadn’t even bothered to greet her when it first arrived, or when it had consumed the stairs to the control room in Angharad. Let alone when it had killed that guard. Why would it start yapping away now?

  She swung around to swear at the tree, but a fresh river of flame poured off her to join the inferno blocking the tunnel. At least the gate hadn’t been vaporized by white heat. That had to count for something.

  Boa, Frea, and Suren were the next to arrive. Suren rolled a fireball. Frea had her bow nocked with a schorl arrow. It pointed straight at Stasha’s heart. “Hurt anyone in here,” Frea snarled, “and I will shoot you.”

  “No, you won’t,” Averin snapped. He shoved Frea at the same moment Boa nudged the bow. Frea tottered, and the bow dropped to her side.

  “By all the gods!” Klaus’s foot dragged behind him in his haste to get to her. He stopped a yard away and stared owlishly at her. He’d never seen her burn. Her heart froze as she waited for him to step back in horror. He didn’t, thank the stars. Instead, he looked at Averin. “Is this normal?”

  Averin shrugged. “It’s Stasha. We’re all still trying to figure out what her normal is.” Sweat poured off his bright-red face—he stood way too close to her. Regardless, he took another step toward her. “What’s this all about, my pit princess?” His voice was gentle, full of care, like he was coaxing a wild animal.

  Her fists clenched and unclenched. Averin wasn’t wrong about her being wild—or at least her magic. It burned like wildfire. If he came any closer, he’d ignite. She staggered back only to be stopped by the tree.

  Water spewing off her body, Boa shoved Averin out of the way. Steam billowed and spluttered in the heat as she took his place in front of Stasha. “Talk to us. What’s happening?”

  She scowled at Boa. At everyone. If only they’d all shut up so she could figure out what was going on. “I’m working on it.”

  “Give her space,” Averin commanded to her audience, which now included Feral Fox and the boys, all blinking back sleep. Everyone shuffled away. Only Averin, Boa, and Klaus didn’t shift.

  And still her fire raged.

  All around the cavern, fae rose from sleep with weapons and magic at the ready. None of their fireballs, ice spears, or rock projectiles were as wild and insistent as her tongues of flame. Yet, she was powerless. The tree, she assumed, had taken control, and there was nothing she could do to fight it.

  I said nudge me—not take over, she snarled at it. And then only when I’m being an idiot. I was asleep when you pulled this stunt. Outraged at the injustice, she clenched her fists.

  Eliezar nudged Averin aside to stand directly in front of her. “Stasha, you’ve agreed to let me teach you, right?”

  “That’s the plan.” Her teeth chattered despite the heat, her icy water magic making itself felt. Darkness, no!

  “Good. And you remember that I’m not your enemy? We discussed that earlier.” Eliezar spoke in a sing-song voice, like he was trying to lull her to sleep.

  It didn’t help that every fae and human eye was fixed on her. Usually, she liked being the center of attention but not when she was utterly out of control. She plunked her burning hands on her hips. “Yes, yes, and yes to any other badly timed questions you want to spring on me.”

  “I only have one question for you,” Eliezar said in that annoying voice. “What is the fire
saying to you?”

  “Nothing.” She threw her hands up, hating to expose her ignorance. “Why do you keep asking that?”

  “If Averin and I had a better understanding of the threats, we could pull the air out of your inferno.”

  “But we can’t risk doing that until we know what woke you,” Averin added.

  Everyone seemed to know more about her fire than she did. How could she be so ignorant? “If I knew, I’d tell you.” A few feet away, Frea’s disdain burned fiercer than any fire. Stasha glared at the blonde-haired archer. “Don’t you dare judge me.”

  Eliezar plunged his hand through Stasha’s fire and grabbed her arm. “Look at me.”

  His words—or his touch, she wasn’t sure which—hooked her and pulled her head around to look at him. She tried to jerk back, but the compulsion to obey him was overwhelming. She wrenched her arm away, or, rather, tried to. Despite her fire, his hands were glued to her burning arms. The acrid smoke from his singed hair and burning skin brought tears to her eyes and vomit to her throat. “Eliezar,” she pleaded. “I’m hurting you. Please, let go.”

  Expression unchanged, he said, “I’ll heal.” His dark eyebrows locked together. “Interesting. Very.” His all-knowing blue eyes bored into her.

  Boa dove past Frea and Averin to bash into Eliezar. It broke Eliezar’s hold on her. “Stasha told you to stop,” Boa yelled. Her dark hair had fallen across her face, and her mauve eyes swirled like whirlpools.

  Stasha gulped. Boa looked like a crazy woman. Whatever Eliezar had done, it didn’t sit well with the princess.

  Eliezar showed no anger or surprise at Boa’s outburst. He stepped back, cradling his burnt arm to his chest, and stared at Stasha. “Your magic reconstructed our spiriting paths from Angharad to the temple. It also told me that Pyreack spiriting readers are on their way.”

  Stasha’s jaw sagged. Her magic had said all that? When would the stupid stuff deign to talk to her?