The Winged Assassin Read online

  The Winged Assassin

  Book Two in The Crown of Blood series

  Gwynn White

  Erin St Pierre

  Contents

  1. Fae Are Juicy and Chewy

  2. Spiriting Readers

  3. Caught

  4. He Lies

  5. The Askavol Fighting Pit Battalion

  6. The Sword

  7. We Don’t Do Shields

  8. They Target the Weak Ones

  9. Stay Low and Don’t Speak

  10. Peace is a Fragile Thing

  11. Whose Side Are You On?

  12. Brimming with Traitors

  13. Drums and Fire

  14. An Eagle Called Ildrim

  15. A Royal Summons

  16. The Dome of Dreams

  17. Your Heart Remains Untouched

  18. The Stench of Despair

  19. Branded

  20. A False Heart

  21. The Truth

  22. An Unholy Alliance

  Stasha’s blood froze, and her arms fell limp at her sides.

  The Tiyanak towered over her. Its menacing silver eyes glinted like a baldric stuffed with blades. Leathery lips pulled back to reveal black needle-like teeth. It chuckled. “Is the little fae surprised to see the Tiyanak? The Tiyanak did tell her he would come for his favor.” Foul breath puffed in the frigid air.

  What with rescuing Klaus from Angharad just a few hours before and having him almost burned to death, she’d barely given the Tiyanak and his promised favor a fleeting thought.

  Klaus was asleep in the temple. She fought the itch to glance toward the tunnel entrance. It would alert the Tiyanak to her vulnerable loved ones inside, if he hadn’t figured that out already. That list had grown painfully long since she was captured by Radomir less than a week ago. Could Averin and Boa defend themselves against the Tiyanak? Suren would know what to do, although she hadn’t actually seen him kill one. And what about Feral Fox, Ivan, Goul, and little Vlad? They’d be helpless against the Tiyanak. And as for the fae younglings.…

  She shuddered.

  The Tiyanak wrapped his long, spindly fingers together and crouched down. His knees cracked like wood in flame. A low purr in his chest vibrated through her, and she had to ball her fists to keep her hands from trembling. The Tiyanak breathed in deeply. “Does the Tiyanak smell fear on the little fae?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Only irritation. You disturbed my peace.”

  “A nasty habit of the Tiyanak, but I’m sure the little fae is happy to oblige.” He not so subtly lifted his arm to display Tarik’s ribbon, neatly tied around his wrist.

  A threat.

  In a moment of desperation, she’d given him the ribbon in a trade that had allowed her to escape Radomir and the other Pyreack fae. Foolishly, she’d also asked for information, which he’d too readily supplied. That had locked her into another bargain. At the time, the foul thing had refused to say what he wanted from her. Now he’d come to call in her debt.

  She avoided his shimmering eyes and focused on Tarik’s ribbon. Dark spots flecked the satin. The stench on the frosty breeze identified them—Fae blood.

  He’d eaten since she’d last seen him.

  That horror was nothing compared to the ribbon itself. The ends flapped in the icy wind. They took her straight back to Angharad… to the ribbons of flesh hanging off Hathrine’s naked body. To the fae soldier she’d killed so brutally with her white heat. To Lucas who’d died in the battle for the mine. She sucked in a steadying breath and forced the dreadful memories away. She could not appear weak before this terrifying creature.

  The Tiyanak drilled her with his silver eyes. “The little fae finds the Tiyanak’s ribbon distasteful? Perhaps she doesn’t understand how delicious fae are.” He slurped bluish saliva from his teeth. “Crunchy and juicy, all at the same time.”

  Another barely veiled threat?

  She was no monster’s pre-dinner snack. Instinctively, she reached into her core to where her fire burned.

  A chill ran down her spine. Her forge was cold. Frozen. Since the gates of Angharad had opened only a few hours ago, her fire hadn’t reared its head. Hardly surprising given what her white heat had done to that Pyreack soldier. His horrific death had bottled her fire magic more tightly than any schorl box ever could.

  Her water magic jumped to attention. Just a single thought and she could shoot ice arrows from her fingers straight into the Tiyanak’s heart. Shivers juddered through her. Frea, Boa’s general, had despised her even before Lucas had been killed. Frea had thought her uncontrolled. The words had never been said, but they’d been implied often enough. Her fingers curled and uncurled.

  Frea had been right. She was wild and lethal, not only to their enemies but also to her friends. No living weapon had the right to wield magic if that magic couldn’t be controlled. Eliezar had promised to teach her control, but his lessons could only start when they reached Zephyr. She relaxed her fingers. Until then, she couldn’t bring herself to summon those ice arrows.

  The Tiyanak didn’t need to know that. Let it think she’d fry it in a heartbeat. She stood taller and threw her shoulders back. “Make your demand so I can fulfill it. Then you must leave. Forever. If you ever return, I will burn you alive.”

  “My, my, the little fae is feisty.” He cocked his head, seemingly unfazed. “The son of Zephyr comes.” He wheezed a sigh that sounded like a blunt knife filleting fish. “The prince seeks his little fae.”

  She listened for Averin’s light steps but caught only the eddying wind. “I don’t hear him.”

  “The Tiyanak’s ears are better even than the son of Zephyr’s.” His coal-black face twisted into a smirk.

  She sneered. “Tell me what you want and be gone.”

  “The little fae is wise to have kept her deal with the Tiyanak a secret.”

  Really? Her silence served this foul beast? In that case, the second she saw Averin, she’d tell him everything… about the Tiyanak, at least. She’d still have to hide that she had both fire and water magic.

  The Tiyanak must have read her intention in her expression. He growled, baring spiked teeth. “Tell the son of Zephyr of our deal, and the Tiyanak will have no choice but to eat him.” Blue drool dripped from his black lips to stain the snow at their feet.

  Stomach heaving, she slapped her hands on her hips. “You’d have to catch him first. And he’d have your head before you could blink your horrible silver eyes.”

  The Tiyanak vanished, only to reappear at the broken rocks that had once been the final step in the Thousand Stairs that had crawled up the mountain to the temple. “The Tiyanak is old and very, very wise, little fae. He has devoured countless numbers of your kind. They did not see him coming until it was far, far too late. The son of Zephyr will be no different.” He chuckled, the sound hissing from his forked tongue. “Zephyr fae taste like sweet, light pastry—just the kind the little fae used to buy at the confectionary shop in Teagarten before dear Tarik died.”

  Her blood rushed to her feet, and she had to dig her toes into her boots to stop from swaying. “How do you know about that?”

  “Share our secret at your peril, little fae.” The Tiyanak dissolved until only its silver eyes remained. “Watch for the Tiyanak. He will be back.” Its silver orbs blinked and vanished.

  She slumped against the rock and clawed for her pendant. Holding it brought no comfort. She tossed it under her tunic and turned toward the slit in the rock that marked the tunnel entrance. Her nose twitched at a familiar, loved smell: snow, sun-ripened oranges, and spices wafting off a fresh cup of chai. Averin’s. It was overlaid with the coppery reek of dried blood, death, and the despair of Angharad. No one had shed the clothing they�
��d worn during the raid. Even she was still smeared with the disgusting black muck Boa had given her to mask her fae smell from the now-dead Pyreack guards at Angharad. How she longed for a bath.

  Dark and brooding, Averin stepped out of the tunnel. The red Pyreack uniform he wore was utterly out of place on this bleak, snowy mountain. The sooner he changed back into his sleek, black fighting leathers that marked him as a Zephyr fae, the better. His crushing blue eyes looked around. “Pit princess?”

  She stepped in front of him. “I’m here.”

  He tsked. “You’re blue with cold.” Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his chest. His warm hands rubbed her back.

  Every nerve-ending in her body jerked to attention. She scowled, but it made no difference to their thrill at seeing him. Not even Tarik had made her body hum the way Averin did. Pity he showed no sign of a similar affect when she touched him.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked. “You could at least have used your fire to warm you.”

  “I—I got distracted.” Pulled back to a reality that didn’t include her body’s frivolous priorities, she cleared her throat. “I was wondering what would happen with Feral Fox, Vlad, Ivan, and Goul.”

  And so the lies continued. Her shoulders slumped. After a lifetime of deceit to keep herself, Tarik, and Klaus alive, why did lying to Averin feel so wrong? So indefensible?

  Maybe it was because she’d never lied to either Tarik or Klaus. She steeled her shoulders. If lying to Averin kept him safe from the Tiyanak, then she’d never utter another truth.

  Averin’s arms dropped. Chill crept in to replace his warmth. “And you couldn’t do that inside in the temple?” He grabbed her hand and hustled her into the dark tunnel.

  Her boots kicked up dust while Averin moved ahead of her like a wraith. She’d been a fae for almost a week, yet she hadn’t mastered the grace and silence other fae carried off as easily as breathing. Seems she got all the power and none of the poise. How many years would it take before she truly became fae? She huffed a breath. “Is Klaus awake?” Her voice echoed in the silence, stirring up small cave creatures. The scratch, scratch of their skittering claws making her skin crawl.

  “Fully healed, although badly scarred. We can get a restorer working on him as soon as we get home.”

  Home. She rolled her eyes. Whether Zephyr was home was still to be decided.

  “And his leg?” She picked at a loose thread on her tunic, hardly daring to believe that Klaus’s crippled leg could be healed.

  “That too.” Averin stopped. She just made out his sharp white canines in the darkness. “Anything for my pit princess and her almost-brother.”

  Almost-brother? She stumbled as she stopped next to him. Where did that come from? Was Averin jealous of her relationship with Klaus? Given that Averin had told her outright that he didn’t want her, that was all kinds of confusing.

  She tossed her head back and grinned. “Well then, at least some good has come out of meeting you.”

  “Some good? I’m sure you can do better than that.” She caught the squeal of the temple’s wrought iron gate opening. “After you, pit princess.”

  She snorted. “Always so gallant.” She passed through and stopped just short of a sliver of light cast by the tree in the temple. A hundred or more paces away, still its magic tingled across her skin. From the shadows, she asked, “Who can I thank for your gallantry?”

  Averin closed the gate but didn’t move into the temple. One side of his face was bathed in soft golden light, while the other was lost in shadow. It summed up the enigmatic Averin perfectly. “My mother. You’ll understand when you meet her.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Do you get along with her?” With no experience of mothers, she had no clue how to behave around his. It didn’t help that his mother was the queen of Zephyr. “What’s her name?”

  “Geminara. Excuse me; I meant Queen Geminara. Titles, honor, and appearance are very important to my mother. As to getting along with her—that would be a yes and a no.”

  “A typical Averin answer. It says all and nothing.” Rich, coming from her with all her secrets. She faked a laugh. “Do you want me to deck you?”

  “Not today, thank you.” His voice rang with amusement, and a smile lifted his cheeks. “And I think you meant to say, it’s a typical fae answer. One of the many things you’ll learn at court. Fae like half-truths. Don’t believe all you hear.”

  The knot in her stomach tightened. Perhaps she was becoming more fae than she’d realized. Still in the shadows, she grinned. “Give me a straight answer, or you’ll find yourself on your butt looking up at a stone roof.”

  “In your dreams, pit princess.” The stars in his impossibly blue eyes sparkled as he jerked fully into the light. “But, as you’ve already pointed out, I’m the gallant one in this outfit, so I’ll gladly answer your question.” He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands lazily into his pockets. “My mother is very easy to get on with if you do what she says. Not so easy if you disagree with her.”

  Interesting. And perhaps not unexpected from a fae queen. Boa also liked things done her way. But Boa had still allowed Stasha to make her own choices, and it seemed Boa liked her more for it. Queen Geminara was in for a shock if she thought Stasha would do what the Zephyr royals wanted just because they were royalty.

  “Then I suggest you warn your mother to brace herself for some fiery arguments.” She and Averin were so close, their breath glittered in the same icy cloud.

  “Noted.” Averin’s laughter tinkled like a silver bell. “But I don’t think you need to tell me that. I expect no less. In fact, I think it’ll be quite entertaining.” Despite his laughter, darkness that had nothing to do with the cave shadows engulfed him. Every inch of him bled the same hopeless despair that had followed him like a curse since before they’d sacked Angharad.

  How was it still there?

  She fingered her pendant, wishing she could break his exquisite mask to see the real fae beneath. Would he ever permit that? Was everything he showed her part of the half-truths he’d warned her about? Maybe that was why fae in love bonded. It was the only way they could wrench themselves open to show each other their true selves.

  How she missed her straightforward orphan world. When hunger and death stalked daily, what you saw in people was so often who they really were. There was a rough honesty in that.

  Averin chuckled, all trace of the darkness gone. “Rican is the one you really need to feel sorry for.”

  “He and your mother argue a lot?” Her voice matched his lightness. How lucky she was to be a superb actress who could adapt to any situation.

  “And then some. Words are Rican’s swords. When we were younglings, he and I struck a bargain. He’d read the endless supply of poetry our tutor dredged up for us while I honed my swordsmanship. The night before class, he’d give me the gist of the poem so I didn’t look too dumb in the lesson. In exchange, I did everything I could to piss Mother off so she left Rican alone. It worked splendidly.” He shot her another achingly beautiful smile. “Still does when occasion demands it.” He turned to the wrought-iron gate. “I’m just going to toss up some wards.” He lifted his cupped hand, and, for the briefest moment, she could have sworn it held a swirl of air, and then the impression was gone. He flicked his hand at the gate. She imagined impenetrable chains of air magic wreathed through and around the iron struts. “Let’s join the others.”

  She moved into the temple. The stale air was deliciously warm, even if her fingers stung in protest as she flexed fresh blood into them.

  Gentle magic caressed her cheeks and tickled her hair. In the center of the massive hall stood the tree. Its glowing leaves swayed in the light beaming from the amber seeping down its trunk and branches. The magic enveloped her, welcoming her into its soothing embrace as if she were a long-lost friend. She briefly closed her eyes and sighed. Still, her heart was cold. If the darkness in Averin was anything to judge by, she dreaded what awaited in Zephyr.


  Averin led her through the crowds of healers and fae to where Klaus sat in a circle with their human friends. Boa, Trystaen, Eliezar, and Suren relaxed with them. Someone had given Klaus a pair of creased black leggings and a brown tunic to replace his burnt ones. Casual cast-offs, they were finer than the ones they’d bought at huge expense on the day of their attempted escape from Askavol.

  Klaus waved at her. “Stasha! Eliezar was telling us about the library at the palace in…” He frowned at Eliezar. “What’s the place called again?”

  Before Eliezar could reply, Averin said, “Ilyseryph, the capital of Zephyr. And yes, we have a very fine library.” He bumped her shoulder. “Filled with poetry.” When she grinned, he added, “While you were outside, I told Klaus that we’ll make him a librarian, if he chooses. He can set up a second home in there if he wants. He and Rican can keep each other company.” He sat next to Klaus and pulled her down to sit between them.

  A scowl flashed across Eliezar’s dark, brutally sculpted face. It was quickly hidden. Eliezar—and Trystaen, who leaned against the wall opposite them—didn’t approve of Averin showing her affection. Which was probably smart since Averin’s ephemeral moods even gave her whiplash.

  Determined to ignore all of them except Klaus, she took his burn-rippled hand in hers. Healed but scarred, normal human warmth radiated from him. They laced fingers. “Tell me more.”

  Klaus’s tawny eyes glowed. “I’m going to be a scholar.”

  She loved that he was so happy but couldn’t resist a snorted laugh. “What a boring life awaits you.” She was with Averin on this one. She’d have risked lockup rather than spend her days in a library studying dusty old scrolls.

  Klaus grinned. “I’ll take that over Angharad any day of the week.”