He appears so gleeful at the possibility of bloodshed that I can’t help but feel some satisfaction from my answer. “Nobody who is still alive.”
My mother passed away during my fifteenth year. Father foresaw her death and wouldn’t tell me anything about it in case I tried to stop it fromhappening.
The king shrugs. “Pity.”
My brow pinches. “What makes you think I’m not lying to protect someone?”
The arm he’s holding around my back suddenly rises, his steel-clad hand stroking up to the back of my neck. It’s a cold touch, and I can’t stop my shiver. Or, maybe, it’s the sudden hollowness in his expression that drives a shudder down my spine.
“I believe you will lie to me about many things, but I know emptiness when I see it,” he says. “You’re alone.”
His fingers wrap around the back of my neck, not tightly, but firmly enough to remind me that he could have snapped my neck already.
Despite the clear physical threat, the corner of his mouth turns down, and the sigh that passes his lips sounds almost rueful. “Fucking powerful and yet completely alone.”
I don’t know what to make of his tone or the sudden shadows in his eyes or the fact that the dizzying height is no longer affecting me so badly. Or even that I’m sitting straighter.
I’m certain there are more important questions, but I find myself asking, “What should I call you?”
He tips his head a little, as if he’s giving it careful thought. “You should call me?—”
He suddenly tenses, his focus snapping to his right a moment before a shadow streaks through the darkness on that side.
The eagle shrieks, a sharp warning sound, and I jolt as another shadow flashes through the dark on our other side.
Then another shadow appears behind us, also vanishing quickly.
Each one flickers in and out of view so fast, it’s impossible to make out their exact shape and form.
“Fuck.” The Iron King’s focus moves rapidly from one spot to the next.
I’m alarmed when the blood drains from his visible cheek.
I imagine it takes something truly dangerous to worry this man.
“It’s a swarm,” he says, and, in the next moment, he reaches for my legs. “You need to turn around, face forward, and lean low to my bird’s back. Do this, and you’ll have a chance of survival.”
I don’t question him. He’s had every chance to kill me, but hasn’t. As quickly as I can, I slide my legs away from his body, allowing him to lift me and turn me in the other direction. I fight the instinct to close my eyes at the sickening view of the cavernous valley we’re flying across.
A yawning mouth waiting to swallow me…
Forcing myself to breathe, I sink to the bird’s back and lean low over its neck, tilting my head to keep my eye on the king.
He rises to his feet and looms over me, apparently completely comfortable standing upright on the eagle’s back.
Muttering to himself, he reaches for his axe. “They fly in threes. They never swarm.” His jaw clenches. “Fuck.”
Then his eyes meet mine. “They must smell you.”
Smell me?Well, that’s delightful.
“Stay down,” he commands before his axe hums through the air as he withdraws it.
Balancing behind me, he swings his weapon slowly back and forth, a near-hypnotic motion, while, above the rushing wind, I make out a growing chime in the air.
Ringing iron. A perfectly beautiful hum.
The air begins to glow around the edges of his blade. All the while, his focus remains on the darkness around us.
