“How many fae have you imprisoned here?”
“As many as I’ve needed to.”
I listen carefully in the silence. “Are there any prisoners here now?”
“No.”
Can I believe him?
I tell myself that this dread that began when I first beheld the dark entrance to this place…
This dread is because blood magic attracts darkness, and darkness brings nameless fears.
This dread is not because I can’t understand Antony’s motivations for bringing me here. Yes, I’m certain we will face obstruction out in public, buthere?
Exhaling quietly, I ask, “Why would you choose to bring me along this dark path when you could have kept it a secret from me?”
“You mean a dark path that exposes me for the monster I am?”
“Yes.”
He’s silent. Only his boots break the hush,thud-thuddingalong the corridor.
When he finally speaks, it’s quietly. “For a long time, these tunnels were pristine. For better or worse, they provided complete safety for the Iron King. Some of the rooms were even stocked with long-lasting food supplies in case of a siege.
“Until my father’s time, it was believed that if another faeentered this place, even alongside the king, the blood magic would tear them apart.”
Antony’s shoulders are tense. His whole chest, his voice, his arms, all hard.
“Then, one day, in front of select members of his Court, my father tested the magic. He grabbed a young fae, threw that boy over his shoulder, and carried him through the door.”
My throat has tightened. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“Imagine controlling a prison that only you can safely enter and leave. Whoever you dragged here would have to choose between misery and death. Even Mother thought he was being reckless, that the magic might attack him, too. Certainly, we all thought that boy would be ripped apart.”
“You were there?”
He’s quiet again.
Finally, he says. “I was that boy.”
My breath stops. I can’t stay still any longer. Pushing at his chest, I struggle against his hold. “Antony?—”
“Donot.” He jolts to a stop, but he won’t release me, his big hands pressing to my back. “Do not with your kindness.”
Unable to get back to my feet, I take a sharp breath, turning my face to his neck, wishing there was even the smallest slit of separation between his armor’s metal panels. Anything for the warmth of my skin to touch his.
“Why not?” I ask, my voice low. Quiet. “If I act from my heart, what will you do?”
He freezes, only his chest rising and falling. Ragged and jarring breaths.
“If I say it never should have happened to you, what will you do?” I whisper. “If I tell you I wish I had the power to go back in time and stop all of it… What will you do?”
Managing to extricate my right arm, but onlywith difficulty, I slide it over his chest to his heart. “If I speak from my heart, will you hurt me?”
Still, he doesn’t move.
“Antony.” My voice is barely a whisper. Barely a breath. “You aren’t such a monster as you claim to be?—”
