It’s clear he wasn’t expecting this. “When?”
“Five years ago.”
In the interaction I had with Hadrian within the Vividari temple, he never told me how he knew who I was. While the three kings had been searching for me, Hadrian somehow discovered my location and never said a word to Antony.
My explanation to Stellen comes in short bursts. “I didn’t know who he was at the time. Somehow, he found me. He cut me with a blade dipped in iron dust. He didn’t tell Antony. I only met Hadrian on my final night in the Iron Kingdom; he stayed out of my way until then, so I didn’t identify him earlier.”
It’s a disjointed account, but Stellen appears to follow with precision.
“Stanimir,” he says, his voice icy cold. “It has to have been Stanimir.”
“Who?”And why does that name sound familiar?
Stellen speaks more carefully now, his fingertips brushing my neck in soothing strokes. “Stanimir was the assassin who killed your father. If Stanimir knew your father was an Oracle, and Hadrian also knew, then it’s likely Hadrian and Stanimir crossed paths with each other at some point.”
“I remember Stanimir now,” I whisper. “He was anewcomer to the coastal village. He had a mark on the left side of his face and an accent I’d never heard before.”
“That’s him.”
“He also had a wife and daughter… He needed a job. He asked my father if he could work at the carpentry.”
“His wife died on the day I came for you. I returned his daughter to him and let him go before I realized he was involved in your father’s death.”
I close my eyes. I need more time to process this, to fit these new pieces into the larger puzzle around me, but time is not a luxury I have.
“My father didn’t foresee his death,” I say. “He also didn’t foreseethis.” I jab at my rib. “Whatever Hadrian’s plans are, we have to be careful.”
Stellen pulls me close. “I promise you, Thyra, if I meet Hadrian, I will make him suffer.”
The ferocity in Stellen’s voice sends a shiver to my toes. His words carry a hum that reminds me, fleetingly, of the moment when he’d pinned my escaping soul to my broken body, forcing me to live long enough that he could get me to the Alak-Teah.
The corners of his mouth turn sharply down as he continues, “Hadrian will experience more pain than he could ever imagine.”
The ice in Stellen’s pale eyes and the chill in his voice tell me he isn’t posturing. His promise doesn’t come from grandiose bravado.
If he has the chance, he will deliver unspeakable pain. Without hesitation.
It should make me feel safe.
But somehow, tendrils of apprehension curl in my stomach, compounded by apprehension about the battle we’re about to ride into.
Chapter Sixty-One
Thyra
Cold air slaps my face as we race toward the Frost Towers now visible on the horizon, but it isn’t the swarm of eagles flying above the towers that stops the breath in my chest.
Flames rage around each structure, black smoke billowing into the sky.
“Fire!” My gasp is snatched away in the wind, my jolt taking me closer to Stellen where he sits behind me. “How?”
For an impossible moment, I think Ember Fae must be attacking the towers, not Iron Fae.
Then the scent rising within the black smoke hits me.
Burning iron.
It seems to strike Nara at the same time. She was racing at full speed, but now she slows. The towers are far enough away that I’m certain we aren’t in danger from inhaling the smoke, but that will change the closer we get.
