Thyra
“Thyra! No!”
Antony’s shout reaches me as the temple’s rooftop rushes back into view.
A scream strangles in my throat.
I lean out into space at the edge of the roof, the rushing wind at my back, and only Antony’s fist clutched around my tunic keeps me from falling.
I don’t know how I got here—or how I managed to bring Antony with me.
His whistle shrieks within my ears a heartbeat before his eagle appears, a blur of blue at the corner of my vision.
I startle when the bird sails past me, its wings outstretched, and it looks like the eagle is about to crash into me. At the last moment, it tips sharply onto its side, wings tipped out of the way, its body colliding with my back with enough force to propel me onto the roof.
Antony’s arms close around me as I careen into him, but whatever shock I felt at finding myself in such a precarious position is overwhelmed by the intense fear rising within me.
All I can hear is the woman’s voice, whispering in my mind.
Do not fight me. You will not win.
As Antony attempts to pull me further to safety, I shove at him, both hands planted on his armored chest.
Because he was already moving so rapidly backward, my push adds to his momentum, allowing me to create enough space between us for me to raise my arm.
I rip at the blade’s image with my dirty fingernails.
Tearing at the ink in my skin.
“Get it out!” My scream echoes around me as I scratch and rip with my fingernails. “Get it out of me!”
Antony’s eyes have widened. He shouts, but I don’t hear what he says.
In my mindless panic, my focus shifts to the circlet. If I can trigger its metal teeth, they’ll saw through my limb. They’ll saw through the blade too.
I just need a way to trigger them.
My wild gaze flies to Antony’s axe, the blade resting on his back. It will do the trick.
With a snarl, I throw myself at him, leaping as high as I can, crashing into his chest, reaching desperately across his shoulder.
My left hand is dangerously close to swiping across the weapon’s sharp edge before my fingers close around the top of the shaft.
But I can’t draw it. Not from this angle. And he’s already pushing me away, his arms and hands like iron against my body, uncompromising in strength, wrenching me away from the axe before crushing me to his chest.
“Thyra!”
Never mind. I have my own teeth. My right arm is wedged between his chest and my collarbone, perfectly positioned.All I have to do is bend my head a little, closing my teeth around the circlet’s metal links.
“No.”
If I weren’t so angry, so fucking panicked, I might imagine I heard fear in his voice.
In the next moment, he yanks my arm away from my mouth, his hands quickly imprisoning both of my wrists, forcing my arms away from my body.
All I can do is scream at him. “I want it out! Let me get it out.”
“No.” His roar turns into another whistle, and once again, his blue eagle soars toward us.
