My focus snaps back to him at the talk of hell.
In the process of turning, the Constellation comes into view, and this time, I spot a flurry of movement at the edge of the tower where Antony said his mother and brother would be waiting.
I can’t make out any particular fae, but five eagles rise into the air above that tower. It won’t take them long to dive toward us.
“Unless you want me to carry you, I suggest you speed it up,” Antony rumbles from behind me. “There are many fae who won’t set foot in the forges, including Mother and Hadrian. I’m surprised she’s even taking to the air to come after us. But the sooner the door closes behind us, the better.”
He inclines his head at the little building ahead of us. The passage of time didn’t seem to concern him until now, but the press of his lips tells me that the flurry of eagles has perturbed him.
I move in the direction of the stairwell as quickly as I can, trying to stretch my legs as I go, and find I am unable to keep my footsteps light, the heaviness in my muscles getting the better of me.
It’s maddening that Antony’s footfalls are near-silent as he follows me so quietly that, if he were anyone else, I might forget he was there.
It’s impossible to ignore his presence.
He is as startling to my senses as the image of the blade now blazoned across the underside of my right arm. The dagger’s shape gleams in the sunlight as if it’s painted in gold.
The moment the blade disappeared into my skin, it became a part of me. Not rigid anymore. Certainly not cutting me from the inside. It may as well be part of my flesh. I can’t even feel it. Only see it.
As for how to get it out?Who knows?
Reaching the door, I lift the large, black, metal latch securing it closed. I’m a little unsettled to see that it locks from the outside, as if it’s designed to keep thingsin.
“Why is this?—?”
Antony’s suddenly brutally cold smile stops the question in my throat.
The visible side of his lips lifts away from his mouth in a declaration that makes me shiver. “You will soon see.”
Chapter Sixteen
Thyra
Iglance back into the sunlit sky, wondering if I’d rather face Antony’s mother than the innards of the forges. After all, he warned me I’d regret suggesting this detour.
But he’s already reached past me, pushing the door open. With a single sweep of his arm around my waist, he lifts me off my feet, knocking the air out of my chest as he whisks me inside.
The door swings closed behind us, dropping us into a new darkness.
The air fills with the clanking and clanging of metal, ringing so abruptly in my ears that it’s clear the door we passed through must be somehow sound-protected. None of this cacophony reached me from the outside.
It’s so loud that I nearly miss the click of the door being locked from this side.
Antony’s form is a mere blurry outline in the dark, but there’s a soft enough glow of light coming from our left that I can make out the glint of another steel latch on the door’s inner surface, even larger than the one on the outside.
“In case you’re confused,” Antony says, his voice a deep rumble in the dark. “That landing platform is solely for my personal use, and this door may only be locked by me. From either side.”
Well, that would explain why it wasn’t barred to him from the inside.
My surprise that the door can be locked from either side is overwhelmed by the increasingly dank scent of smoke and flame, and the burning iron filling the air around me.
I try to block it out, but I’m suddenly transported back to the village. The smoke filling my chest as I raced to my father, where he sat dying. His voice telling me…
I’m sorry, Thyra, for the pain you must now endure.
Tears well up behind my eyes, and I decide that it’s dark enough for me to let them fall. After all, Antony is stepping past me, his back to me.
He won’t see them.
