11. Antony, Former King of Iron
Chapter Eleven
Antony, Former King of Iron
Savage pain cuts across my heart as a mountain of snow crashes toward me.
Toward us.
The legion of warriors I rescued from the Frost Kingdom’s border this morning has pulled to an abrupt halt where they were running through an orchard of thistleberry trees.
Until this moment, my only goal was to get these loyal fae as far east as I could.
Away from my brother’s followers. This morning, Hadrian sent these warriors to die because of their loyalty to me.
He wanted them to choke on the very smoke he was forcing them to use as a weapon against the Frost Fae.
My warriors are injured. Struggling to breathe. Their chests damaged. They’re trying to support each other. They were already stumbling through the trees as fast as they could.
Now, a fucking wall of ice rises above the top of the orchard, a massive wave of death about to swamp us.
I don’t have time to question what this new power is or how it was caused.
“Move!” My roar is snatched away by the screaming wind as I race toward the nearest warrior, ready to pick her off her feet, along with the man she’s supporting.
My hand wraps around her arm.
Whoomph.
I’m blown backward. Straight into a tree trunk.
The impact nearly knocks me out, my head spinning. My black armor cracks through the wood, sending splinters flying as I tumble uncontrollably back through the air.
Straight into the next tree.
Smack-smack.
My head collides with the plant’s lowest-hanging branch.
Crack.
The impact reverberates down my spine, sending a shock through my system as I register the sudden paralysis in my arms and legs.
Oh, fuck. No.
I must have let go of my warrior when the impact first hit me because as I careen through the air, I catch the merest glimpse of her tumbling between the trees, narrowly avoiding smacking into any of them.
A second later, I crash to a stop, my mind taking heartbeats to understand that my back is now pressed fully against a tree trunk, the wide trunk providing a stopping point, but my body isn’t obeying my commands.
Ahead of me, quick blurs of movement tell me my warriors have dived for cover, using the widest trees as shelter to huddle behind.
Just in time.
A wall of ice crashes through the trees, blasting around the sides of the trees. The blizzard quickly swallows the warriors and I can’t tell if they’re okay.
But me, I’m fucking facing the storm and can’t make my body move.
I take a breath, the only thing I can do.
The storm hits.
Air knocks from my chest and I’m pinned in place, my face forced to the side.
Ice bashes against my black armor, the onslaught and the freezing temperature threatening to crack the metal and rip it from my body.
The pressure is immense, but the worst pain is now in my chest.
My heart…fucking hurts.
A gripping agony, unique in its warning signs.
Behind my closed eyelids, golden energy flashes through the wash of white snow, cutting through the mess of snow and debris.
Thyra.
Every night for the last week, her blade visions have sent me into a dark place, physically tearing my heart open again and again. Beneath my armor, the upper-left area of my chest is now a mangled mess.
This morning, I saw her for the first time in a week. I held my breath as she leaped off the back of a white wolf and into battle like a fucking goddess.
She thought I was dead. The look in her eyes when she realized I was alive killed me. She asked me to stay with her, but I couldn’t. My thirst for her blood was already growing, and I couldn’t risk hurting her again like that.
Now, I can’t even breathe her name.
Can’t even press my fist to my heart, where my armor is so cold that it’s cracking.
She’s hurting.
I can feel it. Stabbing at me. Cracking and tearing.
Even as the darkness takes me, I can feel her pain, but I can’t…fucking…get to her…