The Winged Assassin

by Gwynn White

  She pulled the creeper apart and stepped into a grotto green with ferns, moss, and snakeweed, all growing in profusion at the feet of a dozen or so towering pine trees. Clumps of red-capped mushrooms poked through rich black earth that replaced the bare rock floor. Startled, she sucked in the familiar breath of home. This had to be the work of Trystaen’s earth magic. What a crime it would be if it all vanished by morning and had to be remade.

  Opposite the trees, a waterfall tumbled down a slimy rock face into a pond, glittering with fish. Mossy stepping-stones cut through the copse, with one path leading to the pond, and the other winding around the trees, presumably to Averin’s front door.

  Her water magic lurched. The pond, it whispered urgently.

  Too risky. She hurried along the path through the trees and had not jumped three stepping stones when water gushed out of her hands. It sailed through the trees to arc into the pool. Heart pounding, she checked over her shoulder for watching eyes. There was no one behind her.

  I said not now, she growled.

  Her water magic smirked. Don’t care. Water spilled from her fingers to soak the stepping stones.

  With no other choice, she skittered across to the pond and slumped down at the water’s edge.

  Bubbling with laughter, her water magic drenched her knees.

  Stop it. If we’re caught—

  The magic ignored her. It had been penned too long to be controlled.

  She risked a furtive backward glance, but nothing moved in the grotto. This was the route to Averin, Trystaen, and Eliezar’s home, so it was just a matter of time before some friend or servant ambled past. Desperate, she dipped both hands into the water.

  Blue-and-gold fish glided up to nibble the skin around her fingernails. Excruciatingly ticklish, she yanked her hands out of the water, laughing. Her fingers dripped water magic.

  Someone sidled close enough behind her to rustle her hair.

  She gasped, almost brought her hands to her chest, managed to stop in time, and then plunged them back into the water. She twisted her head to see the intruder.

  In all his wolfish silence, Eliezar stood behind her. Somehow, he’d masked his crisp, clean smell. Or it had gotten lost in the rich, loamy pine aroma in the grotto. Either way, his presence didn’t feel like an accident. How much had he seen?

  His deeply still face revealed nothing.

  She puffed out a breath, summoning fire as she pulled one hand out of the pond. Flames had replaced the water, thank the darkness. Or perhaps the magical tree deserved her gratitude. That didn’t stop her other hand from bleeding water into the pond. “You, of all fae, should know not to surprise me.”

  Eliezar’s dark eyebrows rose, and his icy-blue eyes scoured her from head to toe. “Fire is no surprise, Stasha.” His voice was so flat and toneless, it made her hair stand. “Your drenched clothing is another matter. Not from swimming, I presume.”

  Eliezar had seen it all.

  She pushed fire into her watery hand. Only when it sizzled and spluttered in the pond was she confident enough to stand. Her wet leggings clung to her. She folded both burning hands across her chest. “I needed a bath. I was getting in when you bumbled along.” That sounded so lame, she almost rolled her eyes.

  “Bumbled? Me? That’s the best you can do? I don’t think I’ve ever bumbled in my life.” Not even a flicker of emotion colored Eliezar’s dark face. Silent as a cat, he stalked across the stepping stones. “Klaus is this way.”

  Blood pounding in her ears, she followed. Why hadn’t he flat out accused her of having water magic? It’s what she’d have done if the roles were reversed.

  She grimaced. That wasn’t Eliezar. Maybe he was waiting for her to trust him enough to admit it. Maybe that’s what Averin had instructed him to do after the ice-breaking incident. If Eliezar hadn’t answered to Averin, Queen Geminara, and King Seph, she might have confided in him. But with her future so uncertain, he’d wait a long time before she’d be that foolish.

  They reached a wooden doorway. Instead of a matching wooden door, it was filled with a blue whirlwind. Perhaps a compromise between Averin’s air and Trystaen’s earth magic.

  “You’re not a Zephyr fae, so expect the wind to fight you.”

  “Lovely.”

  Eliezar finally cracked a smile. “As Nyx said, you’re an enigma, Stasha. Remember, it doesn’t have to be that way.” He stepped through the whirlwind without so much as a ruffled hair.

  Not expecting to be so lucky, she braced herself before sprinting into the gale. She tumbled through it so quickly, she barely registered the wind’s savage fingers clawing at her, although she did hear its high-pitched whistle warning that she didn’t belong here. She stumbled to a stop on deep-piled carpet the color of rich red wine.

  Ivan’s crooked teeth loomed in front of her. “Good to see that not all hideous fae ears are immune to gales.” He laughed. “We’ve all almost been shredded by that door.”

  She yanked herself upright and straightened her disheveled clothing. At least the wind had dried her off. “Hideous fae ears? Blind as well as dumb, Ivan?” Ignoring Eliezar, who leaned with folded arms against a wood-paneled wall, she patted Ivan’s shoulder. “Never mind. I’m sure we’ll find a cure for it. Where’s Klaus… and everyone else?”

  “Here.” Klaus waved at her from a worn blue leather armchair, one of two. Plus there was a matching sofa, which faced a roaring fire in a stone hearth. A book rested on Klaus’s knee. A pile of them sat on the floor at his feet. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him so relaxed. Warmth that had nothing to do with the roaring fire filled her. It was a delightful contrast to the ice frosting a large window. Dark blue drapes, flecked with red and gold, stood open, waiting for someone to close out the encroaching night.

  Vlad and Feral Fox sat on the carpet in front of the fire, playing cards with Nyx. Almost casually, Feral Fox tossed a silver coin onto a pile of silvers on the carpet. She snorted a laugh. Were silver coins so valueless in Averin’s world that they could be bet like lowly irons? And yet, Averin had used the coin she’d stolen from him to kick up such a fuss. Calculating fae he was, he’d probably hoped she’d filch it so he’d have an excuse to keep in contact with her.

  Vlad caught her eye. He picked up a silver off the neat stack of coins in front of him. “Crazy? Isn’t it?”

  “Just one more crazy in a day of crazies.”

  At least Klaus and the battalion seemed happy. They all sported brand-new brown leather trousers, shiny boots, and different colored tunics.

  Even bathed and with fresh clothing, Feral Fox still stank of wet sheep. Some things were incurable, even by magic.

  On the other hand, Klaus looked mighty handsome in deep green that highlighted his tawny hair and serious brown eyes. “Watch that some sprite doesn’t try and steal your heart,” she joked, still conscious of Eliezar watching. Darkness curse him for spoiling this moment.

  Ears burning red, Klaus set the book aside and scrambled off the chair. Spindly leg dragging, he shuffled past the card players to join her. His skinny arms wrapped around her in a quick hug. “Nyx and Averin have made us very welcome.”

  “And so they should.” She glared at Eliezar, who hadn’t moved from the wall. “And him? Or has he just glowered from the shadows?”

  Eliezar nodded at her and strode to another archway, also swirling with air. He vanished through it.

  “Can’t say I’ve noticed. He and Trystaen have breezed in and out.” Klaus grinned. “Pun intended.”

  She shoved his shoulder gently. “Don’t let all that book learning go to your head.”

  “Oh, my head intends to swell to enormous proportions.” He glanced at the books. “It’ll just take time. I’m not a fast reader.”

  “How could you be, you silly brute?” Klaus had taught himself to read. “Where are you staying?”

  He pointed at the archway Eliezar had vanished through. “Through there. Our rooms are near Averin’s. Eliezar and Trystaen’s are there too.”


  She looked wistfully at the archway. If only she were living here with Klaus and the rest of the team, and not in that cold, uninviting glass house. Also, it would be the first time in her life that she’d sleep alone. Just thinking about it made her insides heavy.

  Nyx looked up from his cards. “If you want to check the rules I’ve set up for our human friends, command my feather to recite them to you. I pinned it up through there.” Glitter sparkled as he waved a feathery arm at an alcove off the main room. “Oh, and help yourself to food. Averin’s orders. I’m to offer you food every time I see you.”

  Her stomach gurgled. “You don’t need to ask me twice. Thank you.” She loped into the alcove.

  It turned out to be a dining room. Twelve perfectly matched dark wooden chairs covered with blue cushions flecked with the same red and gold as the drapes gathered around a matching wooden table spread with food. Nyx’s green feather hovered above a pile of roasted meat on a silver platter.

  Right now, hunger outweighed all else. She grabbed a plate and scooped up four thick slices of meat with her fingers. She was about to grab a fork to spear some roast potatoes but stopped and looked around. “Where’s Suren?”

  Averin stepped out of the whirlwind that guarded the team’s sleeping quarters. Bathed, cleanly shaved, and dressed in black trousers and a black tunic, both trimmed with gold braid, he looked every inch a prince. The plate tilted. Klaus leaned in to prop it up before the meat slid off and splatted on the table. Eyes fixed on Averin’s muscles rippling under his clothes and his tattoos flashing on his hands, she muttered a thank you. She’d forgotten just how droolworthy Blue Eyes was when he was clean. His glamor hadn’t done him justice.

  Averin’s face lit up when he saw her staring at him. “Pit princess! I thought I’d left you with Maelia.” He made a show of looking her up and down. “You do know that we have baths in the palace?”

  She plopped down on the closest chair and plunked her plate between a shiny knife and fork. “Ones that we have to make for ourselves? Sure. Figure it would be easier to bathe in the pond outside your front door.” Pity Eliezar wasn’t around to see her fake smile.

  Averin scoffed. “Right. The daily furniture changing routine. How could I forget? Maybe because it annoys me so much.” That explained his fine but worn furniture.

  A high-pitched whistle split the air. Averin yelped and dropped to his knees, both hands covering his ears.

  Suren and Trystaen spewed out of the whirlwind. Trystaen landed on the carpet without fuss. Flustered, struggling to find his balance, Suren stumbled and almost bashed into Nyx.

  Nyx rolled his eyes. “Why you all make it look so hard, I’ll never know.”

  “I could give you lessons,” Suren gritted out. “See how well you walk through a wall of fire.”

  Nyx’s laughter tinkled. “And singe my feathers? Not today, thank you.”

  Suren slunk over to her, muttering, “Mother curse all Zephyr doorways.” He sat next to her and grabbed a plate. “We need to talk,” he mouthed. “Urgently. Find a time and space.”

  Her pulse raced. Suren was here as her ally. If something worried him, it had to concern her. And he must know that Averin would have heard his whisper.

  Still kneeling on the floor, Averin showed no reaction to the comment. “That door is no joke. Over the centuries, I’ve gotten used to Trystaen setting it off at inconvenient hours, but now with the rest of you—” He straightened. “My wind has to go, or I swear, I’ll be deaf within a week.”

  “Do us a favor, and stop moaning,” Trystaen said. “I’ve been telling you for almost three centuries that wooden doors are the answer.” He sat on one of the blue comfy chairs and threw his leg over the arm, letting his boot dangle in front of the fire. “Stasha, see if you can talk some sense into Averin’s thick skull.”

  “I’m honored you think he’d listen to me, but I have to ask… where’ve you been for the last week? You couldn’t possibly have missed all of Thick Skull and my arguments.” She grabbed a fork, spiked a potato, and shoved it into her mouth, wondering how she’d get a free moment with Suren. If she only knew what he wanted.

  “Thick skull, my ass.” Averin shushed her and Trystaen with an imperious hand wave. “And as important as doors are, I’ve something else to do first.” He looked out over the battalion and Klaus, who’d gone back to his chair and his book. “As welcome as you all are in my home, you might not find the rest of Zephyr as accommodating. As a precaution, Stasha has asked me to mark you all in the way I did Suren.”

  Suren’s hand dropped onto her knee and squeezed so hard, she almost choked on her half-chewed potato. To add to his protest, his head shook vehemently.

  So that was what this was all about. But how could marking her friends to protect them from fae be a bad thing?

  Positive mutters rippled through the battalion.

  Klaus caught her eye, frowning, like he agreed with Suren. She sat dead straight. Suren’s objections she could wave away, but Klaus’s? Not likely. How she wished the two of them would just speak up, but clearly, that was impossible.

  “I’ll kick off with you, Feral Fox.” Averin lifted his hand to strike Feral Fox’s cheek.

  Suren pressed fire into her knee.

  That, she couldn’t ignore. “Wait!” She brushed the tiny sparks away and jumped up. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d skittered between Averin and Feral Fox.

  Averin’s dark eyebrows rose. “You have a problem, pit princess? This was your idea.”

  With no explanation to give him, her mouth opened and closed lamely.

  “I suggest that it’s a bad idea,” Klaus said quietly from his armchair. She could have jumped straight over everyone’s heads to kiss him for coming to her rescue. He shuffled in his seat. “Stasha, if you have a fault, it’s that you are far too protective of us. While that has its place—Angharad, for example”—he cracked a wry smile—“you need to give us space to find our feet in the world.” Did he really mean that, or was he presenting her with a well-phrased escape?

  Right now, it didn’t really matter.

  “That,” she said to Averin, faking her best sheepish face.

  Averin grilled her with canny, speculative eyes. Then he glanced at Suren, whose face showed nothing. “Okay, that takes care of Klaus. Anyone else feel the same way?”

  Vlad clenched his fists. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”

  Feral Fox ruffled Vlad’s hair and earned a frown for his trouble.

  “Let’s take things slow,” Ivan said. “If we run into trouble, we can always reassess. Right, Prince Averin?”

  “Of course. Just speak the word.”

  Had she just made a terrible mistake, or did Suren and Klaus really know something she didn’t? Only one way to find out. “I guess by now, my bath is ready.” She made for the exit—also guarded by intruder-alerting wind.

  Averin watched her uncertainly. Had the wind whistle really hurt his ears so badly that he hadn’t heard Suren’s muttered warning? “Let me at least walk you back to the solarium so you can explain this radical about-face.”

  “No need.” Heart pounding so loudly, she was sure everyone could hear it, she spun on her heel. “Klaus, you haven’t seen my home yet. Do you want to come?”

  “I’d love to.” Klaus clambered to his feet. “On the way, I can tell you about the healer I saw.” She winced as he stumbled in his haste to reach her.

  Suren swooped in and grabbed his arm. “Little tyke, the healer still has a long way to go. Let me help you.”

  Feral Fox tossed his cards on the carpet and scrambled to his feet. “Stasha’s been like a daughter to me the last few years. I want to see that all is right too.” He was also in on the deal? It took all her energy not to bark a laugh.

  The trouble was that the whole pantomime felt just like that—a pantomime. Averin would have to be an idiot not to suspect that something was up. Blue Eyes may have been many things, but an idiot wasn’t one of them. There w
as no way he wouldn’t quiz her about this later, so they had better have good reasons for all the fuss.

  She sprinted to Averin’s front door, tumbled through the whirlwind, and landed in a heap of too-long limbs in Trystaen’s forest.

  Feral Fox, Klaus, and Suren weren’t far behind her. After she and Suren had helped Klaus to his feet, she put her finger to her lips. Everyone nodded that they understood the need for silence. It was only once they reached the stairway to her rooms that she stopped. “Klaus. Suren. Daddy Fox. Explain yourselves.”

  Feral Fox and Klaus looked at Suren. He touched his cheek where Averin had slapped his invisible raven. “I know you think Averin did a good thing with this, but it wasn’t all philanthropic. I guess that’s why he didn’t ask my permission.”

  She folded her arms. “I don’t understand.”

  “I think I do.” Leaning against the wall, Klaus studied Suren’s cheek. “Averin can track you through that. Am I right?”

  Suren nodded, then scowled. “For as long as I wear Prince Averin Trysael of Zephyr’s raven, he’ll know my every move.”

  The air whooshed out of her. “Crafty fae! Darkness swallow him!” She slumped onto the step, suddenly exhausted, despite the rejuvenating whiff of the flowers seeping up the stairs.

  She’d always known that Averin feared she’d leave Zephyr once she discovered why she was here. Seemed his first precaution against that had been to mark Suren. In case she left without Suren—however unlikely—his backup plan must have been to mark Klaus. She’d go nowhere without Klaus. She’d handed him that opportunity on a plate during their argument. And he had the flagrant cheek to accuse his mother of being calculating.

  Yet… “What about that overgrown eagle, Ildrim? Even if we wanted to leave, Averin said Ildrim could stop us.”

  They frowned at each other. She looked from one of them to the other with a raptorial glare. “What? Talk to me.” Suren shifted, then gestured to Feral Fox. “Tell me.” She stumbled to her feet. “The suspense is killing me.”

  “I get that this is hard for you.” Feral Fox cupped her cheek briefly. “I asked Nyx about Ildrim. He said Prince Averin and Ildrim were born on the same day. King Seph gave Ildrim to Prince Averin as a birth gift. Before Prince Averin could even walk, he and Ildrim had bonded.”