Chapter 47 #2
Like the Lethians, the Merovians are extinct now. But unlike the Lethians, my father was always of the opinion it was a good thing the Merovians were no more. According to him, binding objects and places to blood never ended well.
A sudden chill runs down my spine as I realize… “The ruby circlet is bound to your blood. But you said you had it designed yourself. How is that possible when the Merovians aren’t alive to bind new objects?”
Antony doesn’t seem perturbed, although it’s hard to tell now that my view of his eyes is limited.
He reaches the top of a circular stairwell and begins descending it. As it curves to the right, he gestures back to the now-closed door. “The blood magic is infused in that metal bar along the top of the door.”
I catch only a glimpse of the metal before we’ve descended too far for me to see it anymore. Even in that small glimpse, its deep crimson color tells me it’s iron. Dangerous to touch.
“With some difficulty, I shaved off a small slice of it,” Antony says. “Victor dissected it into four portions. He embedded one of them into the box in my room. The other three, he encased in steel and turned them into latches for three circlets.”
“Three.” I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Who else have you used them on?”
“Whoever I had to.”
Now I’m shaken by another thought. “You said the blood magic binds this place to the current king. Won’t that apply to the circlet, too? If you die, who controls it?”
He misses a step. Luckily, we’ve reached the bottom of the stairwell.
His arms close more tightly around me. “That’s a problem we won’t have to face.”
I want to believe him, but there are no guarantees. I try to pull back, needing to see his eyes, to know if the tension has increased around them, but he only holds me more tightly, one hand cupping the back of my head.
Firmly, I remind myself: As long as the Dragonstone Blade is embedded in my arm, the circlet is not a threat to my safety. What’s more, the Lethian dress provides an additional layer of protection.
A moment later, we enter a corridor, and because I’m facing backward, the first door we pass remains in my view for long enough that I can clearly see the large lock on its surface.
The next door is the same. And the next.
All are closed. All appear locked from the outside.
“Antony…?” I can’t keep the wariness out of my voice. “What is this place?”
“A grim necessity.”
We pass another door, but this one’s open.
I shudder at the sight of chains strewn across the black stone floor and shackles attached to the wall on the far side. The coppery scent wafting from the room churns my stomach.
My teeth clack together. “Antony?”
“Thyra.”
“How many fae have you imprisoned here?”
“As many as I’ve needed to.”
I listen carefully in the silence. “Are there any prisoners here now?”
“No.”
Can I believe him?
I tell myself that this dread that began when I first beheld the dark entrance to this place…
This dread is because blood magic attracts darkness, and darkness brings nameless fears.
This dread is not because I can’t understand Antony’s motivations for bringing me here. Yes, I’m certain we will face obstruction out in public, but here?
Exhaling quietly, I ask, “Why would you choose to bring me along this dark path when you could have kept it a secret from me?”
“You mean a dark path that exposes me for the monster I am?”
“Yes.”
He’s silent. Only his boots break the hush, thud-thudding along the corridor.
When he finally speaks, it’s quietly. “For a long time, these tunnels were pristine. For better or worse, they provided complete safety for the Iron King. Some of the rooms were even stocked with long-lasting food supplies in case of a siege.
“Until my father’s time, it was believed that if another fae entered this place, even alongside the king, the blood magic would tear them apart.”
Antony’s shoulders are tense. His whole chest, his voice, his arms, all hard.
“Then, one day, in front of select members of his Court, my father tested the magic. He grabbed a young fae, threw that boy over his shoulder, and carried him through the door.”
My throat has tightened. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“Imagine controlling a prison that only you can safely enter and leave. Whoever you dragged here would have to choose between misery and death. Even Mother thought he was being reckless, that the magic might attack him, too. Certainly, we all thought that boy would be ripped apart.”
“You were there?”
He’s quiet again.
Finally, he says. “I was that boy.”
My breath stops. I can’t stay still any longer. Pushing at his chest, I struggle against his hold. “Antony—”
“Do not.” He jolts to a stop, but he won’t release me, his big hands pressing to my back. “Do not with your kindness.”
Unable to get back to my feet, I take a sharp breath, turning my face to his neck, wishing there was even the smallest slit of separation between his armor’s metal panels. Anything for the warmth of my skin to touch his.
“Why not?” I ask, my voice low. Quiet. “If I act from my heart, what will you do?”
He freezes, only his chest rising and falling. Ragged and jarring breaths.
“If I say it never should have happened to you, what will you do?” I whisper. “If I tell you I wish I had the power to go back in time and stop all of it… What will you do?”
Managing to extricate my right arm, but only with difficulty, I slide it over his chest to his heart. “If I speak from my heart, will you hurt me?”
Still, he doesn’t move.
“Antony.” My voice is barely a whisper. Barely a breath. “You aren’t such a monster as you claim to be—”
I gasp as he wrenches off his helmet, pitching it so hard across the tunnel that it clangs on the far wall.
Wrapping his hand more firmly around the back of my head, he pins me far too easily against the wall, an aggressive move. Dominant. But he doesn’t crush me or break my bones, even though he easily could.
And now his face is opposite mine, completely uncovered, and I can see every flicker of fury in his eyes, every shadow behind the strands of his dark hair, the drawing of his lips back from his teeth.
“I didn’t bring you here for your pity,” he snarls. “I didn’t intend to tell you—” He snaps his mouth shut, and there he stays, his chest seething against mine, his silence heavy until it feels…unbreakable.
A wall builds itself between us, silent brick by silent brick.
I won’t allow it.
As carefully as I can, I engage my stomach muscles and use my legs to leverage myself upward, moving slowly, raising myself just enough to lean forward.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. Press my cheek to his. Brush my mouth against his. Anything to stop this invisible barrier from forming between us.
He sways forward before I can reach him, his head lowering, his forehead softly meeting mine.
A quiet connection.
The longer it extends, the more powerful it becomes, and the threatening wall is no more.
I close my eyes, my hand resting over his heart, my breathing smoothing out.
Just as my dread eases, he whispers against my lips, “You shouldn’t trust me, Thyra.”
Before I can answer him, his mouth presses to mine. Not a gentle touch. A crushing contact. For the briefest moment, his lips are savage and demanding, his kiss sending my senses into a spiral before he pulls back just as sharply.
“I am a monster,” he says. “You won’t survive me unless you treat me like one.”