Despite Antony’s command to the eagle, the bird edges toward me instead of away.
Brave bird.
“I won’t burn you,” I say to the eagle, then I qualify my statement because if the creature remains near me, its death is assured. “Not deliberately. It’s your king I want to kill.”
Antony sneers. “If you want to kill the Iron King, you should find my brother Hadrian.”
“So I heard,” I reply, keeping the eagle in my sights. “I made a promise to one of your dying warriors—a man named Evron—that I would speak to you of his loyalty in the face of Hadrian’s betrayal.”
“Evron’s dead?” Antony jolts, his focus flashing past me, seeking the direction of the Iron Tower where Evron was stationed. Then back to me. “Who killed him?”
If what I’ve heard in the past is correct, Antony dedicated himself to personally training his soldiers. He didn’t abide by the reckless losses his father caused to their army. Because of that, it doesn’t surprise me that he seems to recognize the young man’s name.
“A captain killed him,” I say. “Someone he trusted. Don’t worry; I ended the murderer’s life. I don’t tolerate traitors.”
Antony is like stone, his fingernails as sharp as claws.
Stiffly, he inclines his head but wisely doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Azul,” he says, addressing the bird. “I’ve lost enough already today. I will not ask again. Go.Now.”
The eagle gnashes its beak at Antony, its feathers ruffling, dark blue and shimmering in the gleaming light of the fiery air.
But it finally seems to give in, backing away slowly and carefully. Smart to move gradually. If it were to rise rapidly into the air, it would only fan the smoldering heat building across its body.
I’m intrigued when the animal heads not northward, where the air and mountains are clear, but around behind Antony, moving along the mountain ridge and angling toward the cliff face that blocks the end of the ravine.
My eyes are extremely strained in the dark, a weakness I’m certain Antony will recognize by how large my pupils must be. The pain is alleviated by the amber light radiating from my body, but when I take the chance to glance at the apparently impenetrable wall of rock toward which the bird is headed, the strain lifts even more.
It only takes me a second to realize a faint light gleams from within that wall of rock.
A light source in a place where light isn’t supposed to exist.
Now clear of my immediate flames, the eagle moves towardthe light as quickly as it can.
I can’t pay any more attention to either the bird or the mysterious glow because Antony has begun to pace opposite me.
I stand my ground, watching for his attack.
He will have speed on his side. Along with the power of flight—a trait of vampyrs.
I can’t underestimate him.
As I brace for our battle to begin, he startles me with a quieter-than-expected statement.
“I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation before now.”
It’s true.
Until three days ago, we had never stood in each other’s presence, and even at that time, we spoke with Thyra, not with each other. She was the pivot around which we circled.
More predictably, Antony follows up with, “Do you have any final words before I end you?”
I scoff. “Do you?”
He stops pacing. But it seems he’s taking my question seriously. Maybe he even set me up to ask it.
“I have a request,” he says. “Two, actually.”
