She takes to the air, darting up and out of his path, not once taking her eyes off him, even when it means she has to crane her neck.
As we settle onto the platform ten paces away from the arched opening into the tower, she lands on a much narrower perch jutting from the side of the tower above us. She peers down at us while Blue lowers himself to the stone ledge and Antony whisks me from his back.
My feet now on the ground, I stand completely still while, without a word, Antony begins checking me over with a thoroughness I’m not sure is warranted.
I imagine I’m splattered with blood. He is, too. If it weren’t for his armor, I might fear some of it was his own. Certainly, none of the blood is mine.
“Antony, I don’t have a scratch,” I murmur, trying to reassure him, but he doesn’t seem to be listening, running his metal-clad hands lightly across my face, neck, arms, waist, hips, and finally sending a tantalizing shiver through me when he kneels to glide his hands down the outside of my thighs to the tops of my boots.
I reach for him, scooping my hand to his jaw, urging him to look up at me, to hear me. “I’m okay.”
His eyes meet mine, cold and hard, commanding, but for the briefest, most fragile moment, he leans in to my hand, an acceptance of my touch that snatches the breath from my chest.
His voice is ragged. “Good.”
Clearing his throat, he rises back to his feet, where he rolls his shoulders, seeming to shake the tension out of them.
He turns his attention to Blue and announces, “I’m calling youAzul.”
I bite my lip. “Doesn’t that mean blue?”
“It does.” Antony’s eyes crease at the corners, and I can only picture his grin beneath his helmet.
A glance at Blue and the smug way he’s bouncing his head tells me he likes it.
“Azul Blue,” I murmur, at which the eagle’s red eyes glow even brighter.
With a ruffle of his wings, he settles near the arched opening, taking on the appearance of a guard.
Meanwhile, Fortuna continues to glare down at him from her higher location, her wings slightly spread as if she’ll take flight again at any moment.
I wonder if she’ll become annoyed enough at being displaced that she’ll overcome her wariness and coast down to the platform’s other side.
Not yet, it seems.
Stepping ahead of Antony, I move toward the arched opening and the small alcove it leads into, allowing the chain to loosen between us. It’s nearly automatic for me now to stay ahead of him and, to my surprise, it gives me comfort.
He’s watching my back, alert to the sky around us.
As we enter the alcove, the door on the other side bursts open, and Cassia rushes toward us, her urgent gaze sweeping across us before searching our surroundings. “Inside! Quickly.”
Gone is her leather armor. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she wears long, white pants together with a beaded white corset overlaid with a diaphanous jacket, the collar of which sits high at the back of her neck. The bruises on her neck have disappeared, presumably healed. Highborn are said to heal faster than lowborn, so I’m not surprised.
Her arm swoopsaround my back, and I stiffen at the contact. If she notices, she doesn’t show it, propelling me forward while Antony moves silently behind me.
Within seconds, Cassia secures the latch on the inside of the door. “This way.”
We move through a wide corridor with multiple doors. One of them is open, revealing a room containing armor and weaponry, all neatly laid out along the back wall.
As Cassia ushers me along the hallway, she speaks rapidly. “We need to get you to Court as soon as we can. Until you’re officially presented to Mother, she’ll do everything she can to separate you from Antony and imprison you in one of her private interrogation chambers. And, yes, before you ask, she can easily get away with that. She’ll say she doesn’t know where you are and that Antony must have hidden you somewhere. Her power allows her to weave any story she likes.”
Mere moments later, we reach the end of the corridor, which opens into a large living area, opulently furnished with plush seating. A dining space sits off to the right. I catch sight of a bedroom through a doorway on the far left, as well as another door in the wall to the right.
“How many guards are outside your door?” Antony asks, stepping between me and what must be the second point of entry.
Cassia grimaces. “None.”
I thought Antony would be pleased about this, given that the guards could listen in and report back to his mother, but his question is short and sharp. “What?”
