Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Thyra
Blood splatters my face as we plummet through the air.
Blue appears on our left as we fall past him. A frenzy of talons and feathers, ripping and tearing at the remaining three men, all of them trying but failing to stab him as he attacks, his beak as sharp as his claws.
If I weren’t so terrified about the speed we’re falling, I’d be awed at how viciously Blue fights.
Within seconds, two of the men slump over their birds’ backs. I can’t see their injuries because we’re falling too fast, only that they’re still moving, still alive.
It looks like Blue is going to attack the third man, too, but Blue’s attention flashes to us.
Abandoning the remaining fae, Blue dives toward us.
His beak and neck are slathered in blood, his red eyes a bright blur as he gives a ferocious beat of his wings and spears directly downward until he’s diving parallel to us.
I struggle to keep my eyes open, our velocity pressing on me as Antony lifts his right arm away from me, catches the edge of Blue’s wing where it meets his body, and then, in an agonizingly fluid movement, he leverages us onto Blue’s back at the same time as Blue levels out.
We’re close enough to the ground that I make out a blur of fae on the streets below us, and then we’re soaring upward again.
Our path took us sharply down, and now we’re traveling abruptly up again. My heart hammers so hard in my chest, I’m not sure how it hasn’t burst.
It’s been mere seconds since Antony, and I leaped into the air. Such a short period of time that Quintus is still falling, now to my right.
Just when I count heartbeats before he hits the ground, a new bird appears, shooting across the air, its rider plucking Quintus to safety before he would have met his death.
We’ve nearly reached the white towers, but it seems our attackers are determined to pursue us despite what must be terrible injuries, jaggedly attempting to regroup behind us.
Before they can take up formation, the newcomer’s eagle spears directly up and across their path, forcing them to scatter.
I catch only a brief glimpse of the newcomer’s form, unable to make out details beyond brown hair and a physique similar to Antony’s. All I can really tell is that he’s nowhere near as willowy as the other men.
As we sail away from them, my focus lands on his ivory saddle.
He’s also a lord of the Starlit Court.
But for some reason…he got in the others’ way.
Blue doesn’t squander the clear air ahead of us.
His speed increases, and I can only hold my breath as he careens around the towers, spearing between them, leaving the five bloodied men, along with the newcomer, well and truly in his wake.
Soon, we’re far away from them, and it’s clear they’ve decided not to follow us.
Catching my breath and trying to calm my heart, I tip my head back to see Antony. “Who was that?”
He’s slow to answer, and somehow, I don’t think it’s because he’s breathless. “His name is Rohan. You should steer clear of him at all costs.”
The warning in Antony’s voice indicates I should be frightened of Rohan, but I’m not so sure. “Did he…help us?”
“No.” Then, “Maybe.”
After a long moment, Antony gives a resigned sigh. “Mother controls Rohan. He doesn’t make his own decisions.”
“Just as Emiliana doesn’t control her own fate,” I say, recalling the woman Antony sometimes sneaks into the iron forge to meet with Victor.
“Remember, Thyra,” Antony says. “In this kingdom, you must treat assistance with suspicion.”
I exhale a sigh, recalling one of Antony’s first warnings: His life is filled with lies and liars. There is not a single promise that doesn’t come with strings, conditions, or limitations.
I want to ask more about Rohan, but we’re too near one of the towers on the Constellation’s northern side.
Every tower has multiple wide landing platforms at the top and sides, where eagles perch. As we soar closer to what must be our destination, I recognize the eagle resting on its landing platform.
Cassia’s chestnut-brown bird, Fortuna, startles at our rapid approach, giving a squawk of alarm as Blue spears toward her. From what I’ve seen, she’s larger than most eagles, but Blue is monstrous compared to her.
I’m in no hurry to forget the way he tore at our attackers, defending us before catching us again. I would take Blue into a fight any day.
There’s enough room on the landing platform for both him and Fortuna to perch, but it seems Fortuna isn’t taking any chances. I suppose I don’t blame her, given that Blue’s feathers are splattered with blood, which only enhances the ghastly gleam of his red eyes.
She takes to the air, darting up and out of his path, not once taking her eyes off him, even when it means she has to crane her neck.
As we settle onto the platform ten paces away from the arched opening into the tower, she lands on a much narrower perch jutting from the side of the tower above us. She peers down at us while Blue lowers himself to the stone ledge and Antony whisks me from his back.
My feet now on the ground, I stand completely still while, without a word, Antony begins checking me over with a thoroughness I’m not sure is warranted.
I imagine I’m splattered with blood. He is, too. If it weren’t for his armor, I might fear some of it was his own. Certainly, none of the blood is mine.
“Antony, I don’t have a scratch,” I murmur, trying to reassure him, but he doesn’t seem to be listening, running his metal-clad hands lightly across my face, neck, arms, waist, hips, and finally sending a tantalizing shiver through me when he kneels to glide his hands down the outside of my thighs to the tops of my boots.
I reach for him, scooping my hand to his jaw, urging him to look up at me, to hear me. “I’m okay.”
His eyes meet mine, cold and hard, commanding, but for the briefest, most fragile moment, he leans in to my hand, an acceptance of my touch that snatches the breath from my chest.
His voice is ragged. “Good.”
Clearing his throat, he rises back to his feet, where he rolls his shoulders, seeming to shake the tension out of them.
He turns his attention to Blue and announces, “I’m calling you Azul.”
I bite my lip. “Doesn’t that mean blue?”
“It does.” Antony’s eyes crease at the corners, and I can only picture his grin beneath his helmet.
A glance at Blue and the smug way he’s bouncing his head tells me he likes it.
“Azul Blue,” I murmur, at which the eagle’s red eyes glow even brighter.
With a ruffle of his wings, he settles near the arched opening, taking on the appearance of a guard.
Meanwhile, Fortuna continues to glare down at him from her higher location, her wings slightly spread as if she’ll take flight again at any moment.
I wonder if she’ll become annoyed enough at being displaced that she’ll overcome her wariness and coast down to the platform’s other side.
Not yet, it seems.
Stepping ahead of Antony, I move toward the arched opening and the small alcove it leads into, allowing the chain to loosen between us. It’s nearly automatic for me now to stay ahead of him and, to my surprise, it gives me comfort.
He’s watching my back, alert to the sky around us.
As we enter the alcove, the door on the other side bursts open, and Cassia rushes toward us, her urgent gaze sweeping across us before searching our surroundings. “Inside! Quickly.”
Gone is her leather armor. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she wears long, white pants together with a beaded white corset overlaid with a diaphanous jacket, the collar of which sits high at the back of her neck.
The bruises on her neck have disappeared, presumably healed.
Highborn are said to heal faster than lowborn, so I’m not surprised.
Her arm swoops around my back, and I stiffen at the contact. If she notices, she doesn’t show it, propelling me forward while Antony moves silently behind me.
Within seconds, Cassia secures the latch on the inside of the door. “This way.”
We move through a wide corridor with multiple doors. One of them is open, revealing a room containing armor and weaponry, all neatly laid out along the back wall.
As Cassia ushers me along the hallway, she speaks rapidly.
“We need to get you to Court as soon as we can. Until you’re officially presented to Mother, she’ll do everything she can to separate you from Antony and imprison you in one of her private interrogation chambers.
And, yes, before you ask, she can easily get away with that.
She’ll say she doesn’t know where you are and that Antony must have hidden you somewhere.
Her power allows her to weave any story she likes. ”
Mere moments later, we reach the end of the corridor, which opens into a large living area, opulently furnished with plush seating. A dining space sits off to the right. I catch sight of a bedroom through a doorway on the far left, as well as another door in the wall to the right.
“How many guards are outside your door?” Antony asks, stepping between me and what must be the second point of entry.
Cassia grimaces. “None.”
I thought Antony would be pleased about this, given that the guards could listen in and report back to his mother, but his question is short and sharp. “What?”
“Mother ordered them away.”
Antony’s stillness, the way he holds his shoulders, and the brief clench of his right fist convey his sudden fury. “She left you without protection.”
Cassia shrugs. “Better than locking me in.”
“You know it isn’t.”
Cassia presses her lips together, but it seems she’s determined to hide her worry because she throws her head back with a determined, “I can fight off any fool stupid enough to come after me.”
Clearing her throat, she positions herself directly in front of me. Her assessment of me takes place in a matter of seconds, her focus sliding from my tangled hair to my dirty boots before settling on the bruises on my neck, at which her cheeks flush.
She snaps at her brother, “Really?”
His response is hard. “I’m insulted, Cassia. Thyra’s voice is important. I may be a fucking monster, but I wouldn’t mess with her throat.”
The anger drains from Cassia’s face. “Then… what happened?”
“An assassin happened,” Antony replies. “He was in the crowd at the markets yesterday. I didn’t think much of him at the time. I suspect Mother sent him, but I can’t be sure.”
I’m surprised at how easily Antony converses with Cassia. Even during his interactions with Victor yesterday, he seemed to guard his tongue.
Cassia purses her lips. “Mother wants to control the Oracle, hurt her, and force her to do Goddess-knows-what. She doesn’t want her dead.”
“Are you sure?”
His sister takes a quick breath. “Actually, no. When it comes to Mother, I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
Cassia returns her focus to me, narrowing her eyes at my neck. I’m certain she must be asking herself how anyone got close enough to me to inflict the bruises, but she doesn’t ask.
“We need to cover these marks,” she says. “Thyra has to appear invincible.”
“Agreed,” Antony replies.
Cassia tilts her head before casting another glance at her brother. “How will we dress her? Princess or warrior?”
He makes a humming sound in the back of his throat, but before he can answer, I speak up. “Do I have a say?”
He and Cassia speak at the same time.
“No.”
“Yes.”
The yes was from him, and it draws Cassia’s ire. “She can’t possibly know what Mother’s capable of. We need to make this decision for her.”
“Thyra is the Oracle,” Antony replies firmly. “She has the capacity to know more than you or I ever could.”
I’m once again surprised at how certain Antony sounds. If he hadn’t warned me to treat everything he says with suspicion, I’d think he had every confidence in me.
“Fine.” Cassia exhales a patient-sounding breath before arching her eyebrows at me. “Well, then, Thyra, which will it be: princess or warrior?”
Even if I’m desperate to exert some control, I consider her question carefully.
I’d like nothing more than to wear my lowborn clothing, maybe even find some fish to rub on my clothes so I can offend some delicate noses, but I have to play a game now, and it’s clear to me that my life isn’t the only one at stake.
“Neither,” I say, squaring my shoulders. “I will be the Oracle.”
Cassia blinks at me, and then a slow smile breaks across her face. “Of course.” She gestures me toward her bedroom. “Come with me. Let’s see what we can put together.”