Each of the blade-induced visions have been vivid and painful, near terrifying, but the one in which whispers came to me through complete darkness, commanding me to fight and destroy the kings, unsettled me the most. That voice had no identifiable origin, and I couldn’t tell if it was even my own voice or simply a vision taking some sort of audible form.
I feel as if I’m stumbling blindfolded across a field filled with shards of glass, and all I’ll discover is pain.
I’m suddenly aware of the king’s nearness, the whisper of his breath across my cheek as he leanscloser to me.
“I envy you,” he says, so softly that I could have imagined his words.
We were speaking about my father, that he was kind and never beat me, and now, when I dare to look up, the king’s savage green eyes glitter at me with the light of a strength I fear he’s barely revealed to me.
The visible corner of his lip tugs up, as if he takes delight in my sudden uncertainty.
His voice continues as a soft murmur in my ear. “What is your name?”
I catch my breath to reply. “I’m Thyra.”
The villagers knew me asThea, because it’s a lowborn name and is similar to the first part of my true name, including the softthsound at the start.
Now I pronounce my real name as my father said my mother would have wanted it pronounced.
Thear-uh.
Softth. Emphasis onear.
My answer is met with a rumbled snarl, and it seems the king’s anger is back. “That’s a highborn name.”
“So Father told me.”
“You aren’t highborn.”
He studies me, his green eyes searching my face. I focus on him, determined not to look down or even acknowledge the rush of air around me.
I’m not certain he can hear my whisper over the wind. “Are you sure you know anything about me?”
His eyebrows draw down, or, at least, the one I can see does, since the other is concealed beneath the undamaged half of his armor.
When he doesn’t answer me, I finally begin to slip my hand away from his face, but he presses his own hand against it, trapping me there.
“You don’t know anything about me, either,” he says. “Or you would never have dared put your hand on my face.”
I’m already frozen, but now my thoughts are thrown into chaos.
Everything I’ve heard about him. All whispers and rumors… Nothing’s verified. My biggest problem is that I heard many of the same things about the other two kings.
All three are brutal. Heartless and cruel. Their physical strength is unparalleled. They hate each other, want nothing more than to kill each other, and don’t care about collateral damage. I even heard they kill lowborn for sport.
Most unsettling right now, though, is that of the three kings, the Iron King is the one I wouldn’t immediately fear touching.
Not like the Ember King, whose body heat could instantly burn my hand to ash. Or the Frost King, whose icy skin could strip the flesh off my palm.
The Iron King’s power lies in his ability to manipulate iron. It certainly doesn’t coat his body.
And yet, his warning tells me I shouldn’t have made any assumptions about him or his power.
“You’re right,” I say, my voice bleak. “I was told only that you would destroy me and anyone I loved.”
The Iron King’s lips draw back from his teeth in a smile that promises me every pain I imagine him capable of delivering. “You were told true.”
His eyes gleam as he continues. “Tell me who you love. So that I may destroy them.”
