Flames burst across my chest.
I’m a heartbeat away from burning out of control when mind-numbing agony strikes through my chest, a sharper jab than ever before.
To my horror, my flames stutter and fade.
For all my remembered life, I’ve wanted my fire to die. I’ve wanted to control it, but now I need it and it’s fucking failing me.
Hadrian dares take a step closer, leaving his shield behind him.
“Is your strength waning, Ember King? Stanimir said that would happen too.”
How does Stanimir know these things?
Hadrian draws his hands forward and now his gloves come alive.
A coating of iron dust so thick that it appeared like material rises off his hands and swirls above his palms.
If I inhale it…and I can’t burn through the dust to protect myself…
I want to fucking kill him, but if I stay, I’m dead.
Gritting my teeth, defeat tasting like ash in my mouth, I take a step back. A rush of air billows behind me and from the corner of my eye, I catch the glimmer of light reflecting across my serpent’s scales.
The loyal beast shoots toward me, ever brave, although for once, he doesn’t have to fear that my fire will kill him.
As I leap onto the beast’s back, Hadrian’s laughter follows us into the night.
“Run along, then,” Hadrian cries. “Your people will be screaming soon, too.”
My serpent dashes away, heading south, then banking east, rare fear evident in the shivering of his scales.
If I thought for a moment Hadrian would followme… But a glance back tells me he’s heading northward beyond the Iron Tower.
Moments later, we soar over empty sand dunes, my serpent carrying me away from any cave entrance where my people might have gathered in the cool of the evening and into the vast desolation of my kingdom, dipping toward the surface of the dunes, as if he senses I won’t be able to stay on his back much longer.
A groan rises to my lips as the pain in my chest sends me toppling to the hard sand before my serpent has the chance to set down.
I land on my back, trying to keep my focus, holding on to my mind for long enough to verify that neither Hadrian nor any Iron Fae has followed me.
My serpent slides to the sand beside me, his anxious hissing fading as my mind leaves my body and then?—
I’m standing at Thyra’s bedside, as I have every night for the last week.
Tonight, she’s lying on a different surface and she’s wrapped in a different blanket. She must be sleeping in a new location, but I can’t see any of the details beyond her form.
Everything else is hazy.
She looks peaceful, but it’s a fucking illusion.
The air burns with white frost, icy tendrils wafting around her face and shoulders, radiating out from her body, seeping through the blanket.
I catch the final stream of golden light across her right arm where she rests it outside the blanket.
Her appearance changes, her hair shifting from dull strands to glistening brown, her skin tanning, becoming as bright as sunlight glinting across hot sand. Her lips blush red. I can’t see the color of her irises with her eyes closed, but I picture the vividamber they became the first time she had a blade vision in front of me.
Most striking of all, I inhale the scent of white roses, an intoxicating and mesmerizing perfume filling my mind and dulling my thoughts, dragging me closer to her.
The fiery amber thread connecting my heart to hers is shorter than it’s ever been, pulling me so close, I could run my fingertips across her sleeping brow and breathe in her quiet exhalations.
