Shoving my helmet onto my head, I hurry from the room and along the corridor, passing the grimy prisons along the way.
Thyra asked me how many fae I’ve imprisoned here, and I told her as many as I’ve needed to.
I couldn’t tell her the answer is one.
One fae.
Me.
When my poisoned heart threatens even the ones I love, and only the awful burn of iron can stop me, I shackle myself to these walls, an iron band around one wrist, key in my other hand, taking the pain and daring myself to unlock the shackle. A torturous battle between my conscious will and my dark nature.
The burning pain always brings me back to myself.
Eventually.
But tonight, Thyra brought me back. Light in my darkness. As if she knew exactly what to do and what to say to pull me away from the brink of destruction.
Climbing the stairs, I emerge into the Constellation, where I race back to my quarters and out onto the platform where Azul will be waiting for me.
Night has fallen. Artificial starlight brightens the air.
I freeze at the doorway, realizing that tonight might be the first night since my mother died that I didn’t wait with sickening dread for Galla’s power to fill the sky with stars.
For the last few hours, Thyra was my world.
A part of me wants to turn around right now and disappear back into the catacombs. Stay with Thyra in that bedroom for as long as I can, extending the illusion of comfort and desire for as long as I can, pretending I can love her for as long as I can.
And again, I’m frozen.
Love?
Am I capable of it? Truly?
I love my siblings and will go to any lengths to protect them, but that is familial love, carved out at their births, inked in biology. It never required a deliberate choice.
Thyra is a storm waiting to wreck my soul.
And…fuck it…
I want to be wrecked.
If it weren’t for Azul’s glaring red eyes and his soft keening as he ruffles his feathers across the platform, I might give in to these new impulses.
These breakable wants.
Before I can change my mind, I force myself to move across the platform and leap onto his back. “Take me to Victor.”
He hesitates, craning his neck, looking to the door before glaring back at me.
“Thyra’s safe,” I say. “She’s resting.”
He narrows his eyes, glaring harder at me.
The specks of blood on the feathers around his beak tell me he spent his free time feeding himself, but the crimson flecks only serve to make him appear more fearsome as he gives a low, menacing squawk.
“Azul Blue,” I say, staring right back at him. “Thyra is safe. She’s well. If you never believe me about anything, believe me about this.”
Maybe it’s something in my voice, but this time, he seems to take me at my word, giving me a single bounce of his head before beating his wings and finally rising into the air.
