I narrow my eyes and adjust my balance, wary of the distraction now. He grew up in the Starlit Court, a cesspool of intrigue where fae lives are playthings for bored highborn. He will have learned manipulation like an artform.
If this is a game, I don’t intend to play.
“Tell me,” I say. “So I can burn whatever you hope to achieve.”
For the first time since I arrived, he closes his eyes.
Shakes his head.
“Fucking hope.” With a grimace, he squares his shoulders and looks me in the eye again. “My sister, Cassia, and my brother Victor. You will not kill them.”
He loves his family more than his life. When I fought Cassia three days ago, she confirmed it.
I’m wary of the apparent sincerity in his request.
I begin a slow back and forth pace of my own. “And the second request, assuming that wasn’t both?”
“Thyra,” Antony says. “She?—”
He stops. His shoulders hunch and his voice becomes softer. “If she ever stands at your side, you will protect her with your life.”
He takes a step toward me, and as much as I suspect he’s been distracting me, it’s impossible to ignore the savage intent in his promise.
“If you ever hurt her, I will come back from whatever ash you’ve turned me into, and I will tear you to pieces.”
With that, he leaps at me.
His speed is astounding, his body a blur.
But I’m ready, my feet planted and my fire hot.
My right fist crashes into his oncoming chest, using his momentum against him.
His bonescrack, his ribcage collapses, and fire explodes between us.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Antony
My end comes for me in a burst of flame.
Maxim’s fist collides with my chest, and in that brutal heartbeat, my bones implode.
My skin strips from my flesh, which in turn splits apart.
Fire crackles through the fissures, lighting up my entire body, turning me amber.
I am a fucking dazzling shimmer of broken pieces flying back through the air.
I welcome the fire that will put me to rest and turn my sins to dust.
Then I’m tumbling across the rocks, every burning piece of me clinging to this monstrous frame that won’t…fucking…forget the smell of Thyra’s hair, the sound of her voice, the powerful press of her hand to my face…
Or the punishing taste of her blood.
As I skid to a stop, my heart, constricted with fire, gives athump.
Blood pulses around my body, a savage push, flushing my limbs with strength.
