My only real uncertainty is whether he’ll scoop me over his shoulder as he did at the forge, but he sweeps me up with a command, “Arms and legs around me. Stay close.”
I twine myself around him, clinging as he supports my back, reminded of the heated moment whenhe carried me through his cabin last night, his arm supporting my naked backside.
The warm memory is quickly surpassed by the cold air spilling around me as he steps through the alcove.
The panel snaps shut behind us, leaving us in complete darkness before orbs ignite at intervals, light bursting into life similar to the light in his family’s temple.
I expect my dread to ease, but the hairs on my arms remain standing beneath my long sleeves, an unwelcome feeling. “What magic was that?”
“Blood magic,” Antony says, moving forward without putting me back on my feet. “It recognizes only the Iron General’s bloodline and, more restrictively, only the current reigning monarch descended from that bloodline.”
“That’s Merovian magic.”
He nods, his steel-covered jaw sliding against my cheek. “Blood Fae.”
Like the Lethians, the Merovians are extinct now. But unlike the Lethians, my father was always of the opinion it was a good thing the Merovians were no more. According to him, binding objects and places to blood never ended well.
A sudden chill runs down my spine as I realize… “The ruby circlet is bound to your blood. But you said you had it designed yourself. How is that possible when the Merovians aren’t alive to bind new objects?”
Antony doesn’t seem perturbed, although it’s hard to tell now that my view of his eyes is limited.
He reaches the top of a circular stairwell and begins descending it. As it curves to the right, he gestures back to the now-closed door. “The blood magic is infused in that metal bar along the top of the door.”
I catch only a glimpse of the metal before we’ve descended too far for me to see it anymore. Even in that smallglimpse, its deep crimson color tells me it’s iron. Dangerous to touch.
“With some difficulty, I shaved off a small slice of it,” Antony says. “Victor dissected it into four portions. He embedded one of them into the box in my room. The other three, he encased in steel and turned them into latches for three circlets.”
“Three.” I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Who else have you used them on?”
“Whoever I had to.”
Now I’m shaken by another thought. “You said the blood magic binds this place to the current king. Won’t that apply to the circlet, too? If you die, who controls it?”
He misses a step. Luckily, we’ve reached the bottom of the stairwell.
His arms close more tightly around me. “That’s a problem we won’t have to face.”
I want to believe him, but there are no guarantees. I try to pull back, needing to see his eyes, to know if the tension has increased around them, but he only holds me more tightly, one hand cupping the back of my head.
Firmly, I remind myself: As long as the Dragonstone Blade is embedded in my arm, the circlet is not a threat to my safety. What’s more, the Lethian dress provides an additional layer of protection.
A moment later, we enter a corridor, and because I’m facing backward, the first door we pass remains in my view for long enough that I can clearly see the large lock on its surface.
The next door is the same. And the next.
All are closed. All appear locked from the outside.
“Antony…?” I can’t keep the wariness out of my voice. “What is this place?”
“A grimnecessity.”
We pass another door, but this one’s open.
I shudder at the sight of chains strewn across the black stone floor and shackles attached to the wall on the far side. The coppery scent wafting from the room churns my stomach.
My teeth clack together. “Antony?”
“Thyra.”
