43. Thyra #2
“Antony happened,” Stellen says. “He broke Hadrian’s catapults.
We won’t know what further tricks Hadrian has up his sleeve until he strikes again.
Which he undoubtedly will. But, Thyra, his weapons appear to be made entirely from the wood that blocks your Oracle power.
Maxim’s fire can’t burn that wood and there’s a lot of it.
I don’t know how we’ll protect you from its effects. ”
I fight my shiver, determined not to let this news frighten me. “Nothing about my power has worked as it should. But I’m still here. I’m still fighting.” Then, taking a deep breath, I ask, “How much of my conversation with Maxim did you hear?”
Stellen’s arms tighten around me. “All of it.”
“Then you know he’s the key to removing the blood bind.”
“Which we must do. But not at any cost, Thyra.”
I arch my neck to see Stellen. “What do you mean?”
“Well, firstly, Blood Fae are extinct for the same reason I’m the last Lethian: they were hunted. The Ember Fae, like the Frost Fae and Iron Fae, will not tolerate a Blood Fae on the throne.”
“They’d hunt him,” I whisper.
“He would be forced to turn on his own people.”
“Then we can’t speak of this to anyone,” I say. “Except Antony.”
“Agreed.” Stellen nudges his lips against my forehead. “But my greater concern is for you, Thyra. The next time you face Maxim, I will come with you. My power neutralizes his.”
I struggle with this suggestion. “He needs to believe he won’t hurt me.”
“Again, I agree. But maybe he needs a safe place to start.” Stellen’s voice is haunted.
“I lost control of my power once. I’ll never be able to take back the consequences.
What happened to my family and what I did after they died destroyed me.
Even then, I still had some control. Maxim lives with the risk of killing those he loves with every breath he takes. ”
I turn my face into Stellen’s neck, whispering, “You’re right. I was reckless.”
“You were brave.” He brushes his lips to my forehead. “But maybe ask for help next time.”
His small smile tells me he knows how unexpected that statement is coming from him.
I sink into his embrace, letting go of my tension. “I will.”
After that, Nara picks up her pace, speeding across the sand dunes and continuing due east.
When the sun begins to rise over the horizon, the light spreads across the stark expanse of wasteland visible between the eastern mountain ranges.
Nara finally turns north, running along the base of the mountains before heading up their peaks.
The day’s warmth rapidly increases, the sunlight quickly becoming biting. By the time we’ve reached the black tower at the edge of a cliff overlooking the eastern plains, the sun is high, the temperature has soared, and Nara is panting heavily.
Sweat drips down my face as I quickly dismount with Stellen close behind me. “Water?”
“Inside,” he says, leading me around to the side of the large tower, where an intricate series of small stones provides a combination that opens a trapdoor. “Maxim directed me to this tower, but when I first got here, I had to use my Voice to illuminate the correct combination.”
“I got it,” I say, having noted the order.
Stellen leads me inside, where the air is much cooler, a sharp relief after the biting sunlight outside.
The tower’s first level consists of a large, empty room with a few built-in shelves, a staircase on the far side, and a water pump on the left wall.
I place the dragon’s hide onto one of the shelves while Stellen explains. “The Ember Kingdom’s water sources are similar to Frost’s. Streams run deep below the surface. Most towers don’t have water, but this one does. Something to do with the way the streams run through this mountain range.”
Taking a large bowl from one of the ledges, he quickly fills the container with water and hands it to me. “Except that in Frost, we have hot springs and in Ember, they have—”
“Cold!” I gasp at how frosty the bowl feels in my hands.
Quickly, I set the dish onto the floor for Nara, who laps it up with relish, no doubt enjoying the water’s icy temperature. In the Frost Kingdom, she would sleep outside in snowstorms.
Stellen pumps water into two cups, one for me and one for him. The cool water is soothing after the intense heat outside. I may be able to tolerate vast temperature changes, but that doesn’t mean I love them.
“Ember Fae typically sleep through the day,” Stellen says, finishing his water and leaning against the wall near the pump. “They live their lives at night, but the battle at the border didn’t leave much time for sleeping.”
I take note of the dark rings beneath his eyes before I return my empty cup to a ledge and cross to Stellen, pressing my hand to his heart. “When did you last rest?”
He hums in the back of his throat, a sound without power. “Maybe a day and a half ago.”
More hesitantly, I ask, “How is your heart?”
A heart that survived two assassination attempts and beats despite everything fate has thrown against him.
“Right now?” His arms sweep around me, one hand rising to the back of my head, then trailing down my braid where his warrior’s ribbon is entwined in my hair. “Happy.”
Warmth spreads across my chest, but deep beneath my happiness is a darkness that will poison the trust between us unless I’m honest with him.
The blood bind is hurting him. Antony and Maxim, too. The blood bind is the reason Stellen nearly lost his life. I have no idea what damage the bind may have inflicted on Antony and Maxim, only that my increased strength means their power must be diminished, just as Stellen’s power is.
I could tell myself the bind will be removed soon. There’s no need to endanger myself by revealing the bind’s purpose. But my fear of the consequences is just that: fear.
I won’t be able to fully trust Stellen, or Antony, or even Maxim for that matter, if I’m only seeking their help through artifice or deception.
“Thyra?” Stellen’s fingertips brush the side of my neck, my armor parting to make way for his touch. “Your heart is pounding. Talk to me.”
I withdraw from his embrace, setting firm distance between us.
“Thyra?” He lifts himself from the wall, his posture wary now, his shoulders tense.
On the other side of the room, Nara raises her head from her paws where she was resting, no doubt sensing my rising tension.
“I have to tell you—” My throat tightens and I shake myself, trying to bring moisture to my mouth.
He jolts toward me. “Thyra, you’re terrified.” The corners of his mouth turn down. “I never want you to be afraid of me.”
“You should be afraid of me,” I whisper, a strained, sudden, harsh outburst that stops him in his tracks.
“Why?”
“Because I’m killing you.”