Thyra
The threat ahead of us becomes all too clear once we approach the Constellation.
A row of five majestic eagles coast in the air between us and the white towers we’re headed toward.
They may currently look like large specks in the distance, but it’s clear they’re blocking our path.
Antony’s low voice sounds in my ear, the revulsion in his tone audible over the rushing wind. “Those men riding the eagles up ahead are lords in Mother’s Court. You can tell by the color of their saddles: all ivory. She chooses them for their physical beauty as well as their appetite for cruelty. They’re also highly skilled in a fight, and right now, they’re in an attack formation.”
I take in all of this information, the ivory saddles, the nature of his Mother’s lords, and even the formation the eagles have taken up, committing all of it to memory.
At the same time, I seek my Oracle power. Not that I can call it or control it, but it’s been unsettlingly absent ever since the assassin attacked me last night.
From what Father told me of his first week as the Oracle, his visions were relentless, coming thick and fast for days. That had certainly been true for me yesterday. Flying through the bloodlands, I had vision after vision. Some, their meanings were immediately clear to me. Others, like the vision of the pearly hallway I had at the forge, were unclear. But still, they felt unrelenting. What’s more, blade visions had struck me multiple times.
But since last night…
Nothing.
I fight the chill settling at the base of my spine. I try to tell myself my journey will be different than my father’s. After all, he didn’t have to contend with blade visions.
Focusing on the eagles ahead of us, I begin looping the ruby circlet around and around my arm, removing any extra slack between me and Antony.
“In other words,” I mutter, referring to Antony’s description of the men, “I shouldn’t assume they’re just pretty to look at.”
His soft snort puffs across my ear. “Mother chooses her lovers with chilling precision. Can you see the man riding the central eagle?”
I squint into the distance. We’re now close enough that I’m able to make out the nonchalant poses of all five men, although details of their features are still difficult to see. “Does he have yellow hair?”
“He does. He’s Mother’s favorite. His name is Quintus. He’s the same man whose unwanted attentions caused her to slaughter one of her ladies. Don’t underestimate the other four. They’re as bloodthirsty as Quintus is.”
I voice my fears. “She’s sent out her worst.”
Antony’s arm clamps more tightly around me, confirming my assessment. “It’s important that you know thatI may challenge them verbally, but I can’t strike the first blow. They have to start the fight. But if they threaten you, Thyra, it will be the end of them. Remember my promise: I’ll kill any man who lays a hand on you.”
No brutes.
Just a monstrous king whose touch sent my senses into a spiral last night.
The friction between us tightens my chest, while Antony’s promise heightens my awareness of the threat ahead of us.
I may not have welcomed the idea of combat training with his sister, but I’m going to need more than basic self-defense skills if I’m going to survive this kingdom. Any kingdom, for that matter.
I finish wrapping the circlet around my blade wrist, taking out all unnecessary slack. My right forearm now rests against the back of his left arm. It will ensure I stay close to Antony for as long as possible while also leaving his right arm free so he can draw his axe.
Which he now does, bringing with it the ghastly scent of iron that has tasted too much fae blood.
“Be ready, Thyra,” he says. “You’ll need to move with me. Stand when I stand and jump when I jump.”
Jump?
My heart skips a beat before he continues with a new promise. “On this, you can trust me. I won’t let you fall.”
I tip my head back, needing to see his eyes. Glittering, savage, wild. Framed in black metal. I can only picture the ferocious smile that must now be growing on his lips, as if the possibility of battle with these men has brought him alive.
My cheeks flush as I remember the heat in his eyes last night, a heat that had banished my shock, washed away my fears, obliterated my horror, and replaced all my dread with searing pleasure.
Even if it was followed by an agonizingly unattainable release.
