As he continues to move forward, he allows me to see his jaw, strong like Antony’s, the curve of his left cheekbone, the perfect angle of his nose, and the deep green shade of his eyes, also very similar to Antony’s. Although it’s once again a surprise, given that Iron Fae supposedly all have brown eyes.
All the while, and even more sharply as he steps further into the light, he angles his right side backward, keeping it hidden from me.
I consider how perfect his features are, how flawless his skin is, how luminescent his eyes are, or at least the one eye that I can see. A perfection that allhighborn carry.
For the briefest moment, his lips press together, the same gesture his brother makes when he seems to expect the worst.
Then Victor turns the rest of his body into the light.
Chapter Eighteen
Antony
Iwait for Thyra to recoil at the sight of Victor’s horrific scars.
It doesn’t matter how strong her stomach is, or even how compassionate she believes herself to be.
The right side of my brother’s face, along with his right shoulder, upper right chest, and upper arm, is a horrific mess of melted flesh and bone that would shock even the most hardened warrior. It’s only by some miracle that he retained full use of his right arm.
“Ember Fire,” she gasps, and I’m not surprised she recognizes its effects. Nothing burns quite like it.
I can’t keep the anger from my voice. “An assassin sent by the last Ember King is responsible for this. He thought Victor was me. An easy mistake since Victor was taller than me even when we were boys.”
The corners of Thyra’s mouth turn down, and a deep furrow forms in her brow as she struggles within the protective suit. “Get this off me!”
I assume she needs to throw up. It’s a natural response,but its impact on Victor can’t be dismissed. He retreats back into the shadows, and it triggers my anger. More so at myself than at Thyra. I chose to bring her here, after all.
My movements are sharp as I unclip the front of the suit, vastly different from how I buttoned her into it, but damn, the darkness got the better of me then, the alluring scent of her body nearly overwhelming me.
The coat is so big that once it slides off her shoulders, it crumples to the floor around her feet, forming a mound that reaches all the way up to her knees. She shoves down on each side, pushing the leather to the floor, and I expect her to run for whatever receptacle she believes she can vomit into.
My forehead creases when she approaches Victor, at the same time wrenching up the right sleeve of her tunic, baring her right shoulder for him to see.
A melted scar cuts across her upper right arm, fully visible now that she’s lifted her sleeve.
She stops at the edge of the light, only two paces away from where Victor has also paused.
Cautiously, I watch them both. The fact that she has a scar troubles me. Surely, her father’s Sight would have given him the chance to prevent it. Unless he was not so ‘kind’ as she thought he was.
“This was the edge of a single flame,” she says to Victor. “It hurt so badly I wished for death.”
Victor’s lips are pursed. I’m not sure if Thyra can make out his reactions within the shadows, but I can.
A wary light has entered his eyes, and his tension is palpable. Many times, he’s been taunted by false compassion, only to be ridiculed as soon as his trust was gained. It doesn’t matter that he’s my brother or next in line for the throne. He lives in the forges because our mother can’t stand to look at him. Her attitude toward him has spread like poison.
Thyra lifts her chin, defiant as she asks him, “How did you find the strength to survive?”
Victor’s expression softens, and the tension eases from his shoulders. “My brother commanded me to live.”
I did.
I fucking told him.
When he begged me to put a stop to the pain, to end it, I responded with rage, ordering him with all the authority of my then eleven years, to endure it.
I told myself my resolve was calculated. Even when Victor was a boy, he showed more talent with melding iron than any other Iron Fae. His control of all metals was beyond his years.
The kingdom needed him. Our people needed him.
