26. Antony
Chapter Twenty-Six
Antony
Dusk is falling as we fly past the forested mountains in Iron’s east and across the charcoal cliffs at the border.
I’ve never come this far out, an omission that now feels dangerous.
Endlessly dark plains stretch past the expansive, charred mountains. Black dust streams across the farthest edge of the mountain ridge, similar to the way white steam flows across a field of snow.
Ahead of us, the flock of eagles carrying my warriors suddenly dives into the billowing dust and out of sight. I wait for them to reappear, assuming they’ve dipped to follow the wind’s currents and avoid the polluted air, but there’s no sign of them rising above the dust storm again.
Victor stopped holding on to me an hour ago once I’d regained feeling in my limbs, but now, he takes hold of my shoulders. “We’re about to take a dive, brother.”
A dive? Where?
“Prepare to hold your breath. Ready. And…now.”
We hit the dust storm and plummet into air filled with black ash, the granules as sharp and cutting as the icicles that struck me during the snowstorm.
My stomach lifts from my body and a sense of weightlessness fills me.
A second later, my center of gravity plunges.
The eagle banks sharply left, performing a complete U-turn, but the dust is too thick for me to see what we’re headed toward. Since we’ve now cleared the charcoal cliffs, we must be flying back toward the mountainside.
I flash back to the moment Thyra told me to fly into the tunnel in the bloodlands where I later found my mother. I thought we were going to crash into a wall of stone. Just like now.
For the briefest moment, the dust clears and I make out the rock wall we’re speeding toward.
A honeycomb web of caves stretches out across the cliffs, protected by a wide lip of rock above it and concealed by the dust that billows thickly across my vision again.
Seconds later, we soar into one of the caves, coming to a stop in clear air. Behind me, the dust swirls flat at the cave’s mouth, as if there were an invisible shield stopping the dirt from flying inside.
A large tunnel stretches ahead of me, curving so I can’t see what lies beyond it, but arched openings allow visibility into the tunnels on either side of us and into the tunnels beyond those.
Cassia’s eagle soars into the channel on our left, landing where I have a clear line of sight to her.
“What is this place?” I slide from the eagle’s back and wait for Victor to join me on the ground.
“Cassia has a theory,” Victor says, joining me on the smooth ground, the floor like polished stone.
My sister quickly dismounts, murmuring to Fortuna before she approaches, her eagle following at her back. The arched opening is large enough for them to easily step through.
“Dragons,” she says. “Fire dragons, to be exact. I think these caves are where they once laid their eggs. Some kind of interconnected nest.” She knocks the wall with her knuckles. “Hardened by dragon’s fire.”
“Concealed in dust storms.” I narrow my eyes at the way the dust swirls flat at the entrance. “That’s the border right there, isn’t it? Between Iron and the east. Like the border between Iron and Frost, where the snowstorms hit an invisible magical boundary and don’t cross into Iron.”
“Where they used to hit an invisible boundary,” Cassia says pointedly. “The snowstorm that buried you seems to have caused the border’s magical rules to break.”
My poisoned heart sinks. “I thought the ice hadn’t melted because it wasn’t warm enough.”
Cassia shakes her head, patting Fortuna’s feathers as the bird nudges her side.
“We heard that the bloodlands have also broken past their previous magical boundaries and have now formed a channel into Ember. We haven’t been able to travel that far west to verify the stories, but we’re worried about Rohan’s brother, Riven.
He was stationed at one of the towers directly south of the bloodlands. ”
“The rumor’s true,” I say. “Ever since Thyra became the Oracle, the longstanding rules of our world are breaking down. The darkness of the bloodlands has spread into the south. But Riven’s safe.”
Assuming Maxim has kept his word.
“My brother’s safe?” Rohan appears at the far side of the tunnel, hurrying toward us. He immediately heads for Cassia, taking a swift look over her, the tension around his brown eyes and his quick assessment indicating he’s checking for wounds. “Where’s Riven?”
A hard question to answer. Particularly while Victor’s at my side, since I swore to him I’d kill Maxim for what his father did.
The sudden hubbub of fae pouring from within the tunnels gives me a chance to consider my response carefully.
In the adjoining passageways, groups of men and women head toward my warriors where they’ve landed, some of the converging fae appearing to be healers as they begin checking over the newcomers for injuries and calling for medicine.
I use the diversion to sidestep Rohan’s question for now, although I’m certain I won’t be able to evade answering for long.
“Cassia.” My awe is genuine as I incline my head at the number of fae filling the tunnels on either side of us. “You’ve been busy.”
“We’ve flown out into the kingdom every day since we heard that Hadrian had claimed the throne, looking for people we trust and bringing them here.
Keeping an eye out for Hadrian’s followers and dispatching them where we can, too.
” She tips her chin up, her green eyes determined. “I was never going to hide, Antony.”
I shake my head with a soft laugh. “I never should have expected that you would.”
She holds out her hand for me. “C’mon, brother. Let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”
Instantly, she grimaces.
“‘Fed,’ huh?” I shake my head, but there’s no sidestepping this truth.
Victor’s seen my fangs, but Cassia hasn’t. Best to get it over with before I step foot farther into this safe haven she’s created. The last thing I want is to disrupt what she’s building here.
I reach for my helmet to slowly pull it off. My black armor is so much a part of my body that I could forget I’m wearing it. Until the air rushes in.
I don’t hold back, baring my fangs, conscious that my eyes must also fill to full black.
“I’m glad you brought me here, Cassia,” I say to her. “And I want to be part of whatever path you choose, to the extent that I can, but I won’t be able to stay.”
Rohan has edged closer to Cassia’s side, a protective move. Victor has remained a shadow at my side, appearing as untroubled as he was the first time I revealed my fangs to him.
Cassia is wide-eyed and I read her fear through the thumping flow of blood through her veins.
I take care not to move an inch.
Her lips tremble. “It’s been a long time since I saw your face uncovered. You look older and…” She dares move toward me, but only after casting Rohan a reassuring nod. “Even more monstrous.”
Despite telling myself not to move, I hunch, letting my black hair fall across my face as I run my tongue across the tips of my fangs. “Fucking fangs.”
“Yeah, but…” My sister comes within a few paces of me, peering up at me. “They suit you.”
My forehead crinkles and I resist the urge to pull my helmet back on. The adjoining tunnels are clearing out now, and I keep my head down, edging toward the shadows nearer to Victor as my warriors are ushered away into the caves.
Only for a shriek to sound behind me as another eagle appears through the dust storm and lands behind me, its rider leaping from its back and racing to Cassia.
“Princess!” the rider drops to a knee, his chest heaving. “I have news.”
Hurriedly, I shove my helmet back on while Cassia says quickly to me, “This is one of our scouts,” before she closes the gap to the newcomer. “What is it?”
I recognize this man, but I don’t know his name. If my memory serves, he was stationed at one of the Iron Towers on the border with Ember.
“The Frost King is alive,” he says.
Of course he fucking is. But for once, I’m happy to hear it. Because if Stellen’s alive, then Thyra is more likely to be safe.
“Where is he?” Cassia asks.
But the rider clams up, stealing worried glances at Victor.
Cassia steps between them, while Victor’s forehead creases, stiffening at the rider’s next words.
“The Frost King is fighting beside the Ember King.”
Cassia’s shoulders are suddenly tense. “They’re allies?”
The rider swallows. “Unclear. It appears that their interests are aligned. Hadrian’s weapons are stationed at Ember’s border, where he’s focusing his assault.
Without the Frost King, Hadrian’s army would have gained ground in Ember by now, which would have increased his power.
Not to mention, many Ember Fae civilians would have died. ”
“Frost,” I growl. “It clears the smoke.”
The rider’s attention snaps to me and, even though he glanced at Victor before, it seems he’s only now taking note of my identity.
“Iron King,” he gasps, hurriedly beginning to bow.
“You answer to Cassia,” I say firmly. “She’s your commander.”
I’m already moving toward the cave’s mouth, steering wide of the rider and his now-skittish eagle. “I need to get to the Ember border. I have to find Thyra and make sure she’s safe.”
“Wait.” Cassia rushes forward. She bites her lip before she wraps her arms around me.
I stiffen at her hug. Then relax, close my eyes, and accept her gesture.
“Our world is breaking,” she whispers.
I take a deep breath. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
She tips her head back, her jaw dropped. “What?”
“We can’t keep going as we always have. If the magical rules of our world are disintegrating, then the curse has a chance of breaking, too.”
Cassia blinks up at me. “When did you become so optimistic?”
“When Thyra gave me hope.”
Tears suddenly flood Cassia’s eyes. “I was scared I’d lost you. We heard Hadrian killed you. And then, when I found out you were alive…” She blinks rapidly, but the tears keep coming. “I was worried you wouldn’t be you anymore.”
I bare my fangs at her. “Don’t worry, little sister, I’m as vicious as ever.”
She sniffles, lets me go, and swipes at her eyes.
Now, it’s Victor who halts me. “Brother. Wait.”
He strides to the side of the tunnel, where several sections of rock form shelves, scooping up a long object concealed behind a lip of stone before hurrying back to me.
“I found this on Mount Vividari when I went to free Emiliana. I swore I’d give it back to you if I had the chance.”
I stare at my axe, the one I carried for years.
“I don’t have my tools to fortify the edge,” Victor says, turning the blade into the light. “But I sharpened it for you. Maybe you can find some use for it.”
I hesitate to reach for the weapon that I discarded when I thought my life as I knew it was over.
“Is Emiliana okay?” A question I should have asked long before this moment.
Victor’s jaw clenches again, his hands tightening around the axe. A heavy silence falls around me. Even the rider, having risen to his feet, hunches at his eagle’s side.
Cassia breaks the quiet. “Hadrian burned Emiliana with iron dust to make her copy the Chronicle for him.”
I can’t stop my snarl, my fangs cutting my lower lip.
As the last known Ferocie Scribe, Emiliana is the only fae who can safely open the Chronicle to allow it to be read. Thyra managed to touch the book, but only by using her blade arm, since the Dragonstone Blade seems to protect itself against destruction.
“Her punishment worsened when she couldn’t tell him about the missing page,” Cassia continues. “The one that was torn out.”
“The one the False Queen apparently wrote upon,” I mutter.
Victor’s voice is tight. “When I freed Emiliana, I made sure to burn the copy she was making for Hadrian. She brought the Chronicle with us, so at least we control that now.” He swallows visibly. “I want justice from the Ember King for what was done to me, but Antony, we have to end Hadrian.”
Carefully, I accept the axe from Victor, a symbol of my old life.
Now, I consider the weapon in a new light.
“Victor, you told me Hadrian forced you to design weapons for him, but you took the risk of giving them flaws.”
Victor wraps his hand around my axe even as I hold it aloft. “His catapults are made of wood, every part of them except the canisters they fire. That wood is unbreakable.”
“But?”
Victor grins, but it’s a dangerous smile, full of anger and hurt, a wrath born from a life of being shunned and manipulated and kept from the woman he loved for too many years, only to be unable to protect her when it mattered.
The kind of rage that tells me Victor won’t stop until Hadrian is dead.
“Tell me everything,” I say.