I woke up with an ache I’ve been pushing away ever since.
Now, I can’t stop myself from pressing my free hand against Antony’s metal-covered cheek, the same way I protected him yesterday when the Frost King would have ended his life.
I want him to remember that I may not have his combat skills, but I will fight in any way I can.
My hands may be smaller than his, but they can make a difference.
I catch his sharply indrawn breath even though he’s raised his head far enough away from mine that the rushing wind quickly snatches the sound away.
My hair flies around my face, battering his chest. My callused palm presses to his steel-covered jaw.
For a breathless moment, I have his full attention, and the savage light in his eyes transforms, filling again with undeniable heat.
An answering desire spills through my own body with an anticipation I can’t deny, a need to live even if the threats around me only grow worse.
He gives me a single, firm nod.
I force myself to once again face the danger directly ahead of us, engaging each of my sore muscles, increasing my awareness of every part of my body. Readying myself for the fight that these men clearly want to have when they draw bright swords from the scabbards at their backs.
Each sword gleams silver, not crimson with iron, but the damage they could do is no less lethal.
As we fly straight at them, Blue shakes his head, a menacing gesture, as if he, too, welcomes this fight.
“They should not have drawn their swords,”Antony snarls. “They aren’t even feigning good intentions. Drawing their swords is as good as striking a blow.”
In the next breath, he raises his voice to a roar that echoes across the air. “Do you want to die today?”
One by one, the men stand up on their birds, balancing perfectly, their swords held ready.
“I guess so,” Antony mutters.
Blue picks up speed.
As he streaks directly toward them, the men’s features become clearer. Quintus, the golden-haired fae riding the central eagle, has sharply angular features, his slicked-back hair accentuating his high cheekbones and narrow jaw. Like the other four, he’s wearing leather armor, but I doubt it will protect him from Antony’s axe.
Quintus’s eagle edges out in front of the others as they pick up speed, no longer coasting through the air as they shoot toward us.
Blue continues straight ahead, picking up even more speed, and my heart hammers in my throat at the impending collision.
“Steady, Thyra,” Antony whispers in my ear. “Be ready…”
Where he stands on his eagle, Quintus is eye to eye with me, his sword held ready, his knees bunching as if he’s preparing to leap out into space to cut off my head.
The two eagles on either side of him also veer inward, one much higher than the other, as if they’ll crisscross, one over the top of us and one beneath.
Their intentions are easy to read. The one underneath will strike upward and gut Blue’s belly. The one crossing overhead will block Blue from escaping in that direction. Both while Quintus relieves me of my head. Meanwhile, the remaining two fae will have quickly circled behind us to attack Antony’s back, keeping him busy.
Just as all five oncoming eagles cut a path exactly as I envisaged, Blue abandons his path.
With a powerful sweep of his wings, he spears downward, but not through any of the still-available gaps.
My stomach lurches into my throat a second before Blue rams straight into the rider attempting to fly beneath us.
I can’t see past Blue’s wings to know what he’s doing with his talons, but blood sprays across the air, a man’s scream sounds, and I don’t have to imagine the damage because in the next instant, the attacker’s eagle careens across the air, visible at the corner of my eye. While the bird itself appears unharmed, its rider is slumped over its back, one arm dangling.
Quintus’s angry shout sounds as his eagle streaks across the air above us, now too high to cause any damage.
Antony’s axe is raised, gleaming. He could easily chop off the eagle’s legs, slice its wing, or gut it from beneath, but he lets it sail past.
