It’s all great and wonderful and let’s just close the book of my life right now and say the fairytale is done, and we all lived happily ever after.
Except I don’t trust Corva. No one should. These three fallen are so fucking obtuse for thinking she’s helping them.
Poisoning them is what she’s really doing.
She’ll do it to me, too
And I’m about to let her.
5
A Crow’s Nest
I’ve agreed to stay.
For now.
It’s late in the day. The dim evening sunlight sweeps through the carved windows, and the more stairs I climb in this place, the more elaborate it all becomes. There’s a damn training room on the sixth floor. When I peer nervously out the window, I recognize the large room and the dozens of wooden practice swords on a rack. Three real swords hang near the door. Two glitter with golden magic like it’s blessed by the gods. They’re the swords Zav and Damien wore today. The third… it’s black and ashen. My stomach twists as I look at the three odd blades and their similarities but also their harsh differences to the third.
I don’t understand it.
Forcing myself to look away, I find the room to be very large with a soft blue mat spread across it. Armory is piled in the corner. Balance beams and padded mats are all around, teetering on the thin branches in the top of a tree. The space literally sways when the leaves outside rustle in the breeze.
The mortal realm and their housing inspectors would have a heart attack over the layout of this house. It’s completely ridiculous.
And I love it.
I travel higher up, and soon the smooth carved walls fall away entirely, but the stairs beneath my feet keep circling the tree trunk high into the bleeding evening sky. I can feel the faint sunlight on my face, and the cool wind against my lips is exhilarating.
Until I reach the top step.
I stop dead in my tracks. Three men as carved as this house are stripping down to just their tight black underwear. The thin material hugs their lean waists as they talk quietly among themselves on the platform. At its center, is a circular platform with wooden floorboards. It’s a standing area among so much netting casting out from it at all sides, attaching to other branches of nearby trees. A dresser with drawers on all sides, rests there on the little standing space. Everywhere around it is just thin strings. Nearly unseen threads slice from the center circle out to the branches of the surrounding trees. It’s like a web of sorts. The ties here and there holding it all together can be seen if you study it hard enough.
It’s just another bizarre creation in this mysterious house my sister built for herself.
And her demons, it seems.
“She must be powerful. Why else would someone like Corva want a bratty little girl like her?” Zav whispers with a growl.
Excuse me?
Bratty little girl? I’m twenty-three fucking years old! And, furthermore, I’ve found some of Corva’s pants to wear, so I’m no longer showing my ass, if everyone could please take notice!
I bite my tongue hard and keep listening from beneath the array of big green leaves.
“She’s had us searching for this girl every Friday for years without telling us she isn’t a fallen but a fae. Corva isn’t an idiot set out for sisterly bonding. She’s planning something.” The large man with the scars says in a hushed tone.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing Corva does matters for us. She’ll figure something out to help Damien permanently, and then we’ll leave.”
At that, the demon man cocks a dark brow at Zaviar. His odd bladed weapons along the back of his forearms scrap lightly against his skin as his arms cross over his chest.
“I’ve been here a long time. I’m happy to stay. I’m happy to be Corva’s little bitch boy in exchange for what she gives me. Fae tolerate demons. But not the ones like me. Men like me, we’d be sent right to the demon land without hesitation. And I’m not fucking going to the Torch. So, make your little plans all you like, but that’s between you two. It’s always been you two brothers and me. Not us.”
He’s right. He’s straightforward and doesn’t dance around topics it seems. A little bit brutish but painfully honest. His bluntness makes sadness slide through my stomach. It’s hard to hear the truth spoken out loud sometimes.
The three of them stand there, quietness falling across them.
I should leave.
Before they shed anymore secrets about themselves.
I twist quickly. My feet tangle around literally my own stupidity, and that cool wind I was cherishing so damn much does nothing to catch me as I fall. My wings splay out but land against the sleek netting. My fingers reach for one of the thin threads, but I can’t get a grip.
Over and over and over again, I roll across the beautiful delicate net. Until my shoulder jars into wood. And I find I’ve hit the center platform.
My eyes open, and I stare up at three glaring fallen.
They definitely look like demons from this angle.
Zaviar lowers himself, his strong thighs supporting his arms as he tilts his head this way and that like I’m a fly caught in his deadly web. His sharp jawline tightens and I can feel his cruelty before he even opens his big mouth.
“Were you spying on us, Little Crow?”
That fucking name.
“No,” I say, my breath rushing. “I just . . . thought this place looked like fun and wanted to roll on over to see what the cool kids were gossiping about.” My hands fold over my stomach like I’m totally relaxed and not at all awkward in this strange situation.
Damien’s full lips twitch at the corner, and I love the way his eyes are shining. He doesn’t look like a tragic angel right now.
He looks like a sinful demon about to devour his prey. He almost reminds me of his brother for once.
“Anyway, I’ll just,” I push myself up and try to stand, but I can’t find my balance in this death trap of a net. My knees give out. I push myself up. My hand flies right between a few invisible threads, and I lie there face-down, awkwardly. “What is this space, anyway?” I nearly shriek with frustration.
Big hands grip my hips from behind. As I’m heaving and thrashing in the netting, I’m pulled out. His body holds mine.
“It’s our bed, Pretty Crow,” Damien whispers into my ear. His big arms hold me against his chest to stop me from face-planting once again.
My body thrums to life. I’m suddenly aware of how warm his smooth skin is against mine, how every breath of his heats my flesh, how every pounding beat of his heart pulses into me and spirals right down to my clit.
Annnd that’s enough getting to know my captors turned roommates.
I kick off from the wooden platform he’s sitting on and roll away from him until my back hits solid flooring. I lie there pathetically at their feet, before Zav’s glaring gaze and the demon’s interested look.
The soft white feathers of Zaviar’s wings and the stark leather of the other man’s are opposite in appearance, and yet, they don’t seem that different.
“What’s your name?” I finally ask the big one.
The man smiles slowly. It’s an eerie but charming look that has me questioning my sanity.
“Ryke.”