Page 145 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

I take a breath. When Stellen and I were in the Alak-Teah, he challenged my beliefs about my strengths, asking me if my power was as limited as I thought.

I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, needing the darkness to think. “What are you trying to say?”

“That nothing the False Queen’s spirit tells you may be true. All could be lies. A story to make you doubt your own strength and skill. To make you believe you’re stealing our power instead of accumulating your own.”

“But your hearts are broken.” My fear rises and my voice with it. “Antony’s heart is barely mended. Yours failed, Stellen. You died, and it broke me⁠—”

He sweeps out of his chair and pulls me into his arms. “Thyra, listen to my heartbeats. Hear how steady they are. Can you hear them?”

I can barely hear anything over the pounding of my own heart and the loudness of my fears.

I tell myself to breathe, to find peace, to take comfort in his nearness and in Antony’s arms as he closes in behind me, his hand on my shoulder and his chest to my back.

“Listen to Antony’s heart,” Stellen says. “Hear how steady his heartbeats are.”

I hear them. Both of their hearts. Strong, thumping beats.

“I have no doubt the blood bind is trying to destroy us, Thyra,” Stellen says, his arms tightening around me. “But I also have no doubt the bind wants to destroy you first. Your heart, your hope, and even your courage. All of the things we need.”

He brushes his fingertips beneath my chin, urging me to look up at him. “My heart.”

From behind me, Antony rumbles, “My hope.”

And Stellen adds, “And, without a doubt, Maxim’s courage to overcome his fire. If you believe your strength is stolen from others, then there could come a time when you choose not to act for fear of hurting us.”

I catch my breath at that possibility. “I might hold back when I shouldn’t.”

“Precisely,” Stellen says.

“Thyra.” Antony snarls at my ear. “Promise us you will never hold back.”

I take deep breaths, cocooned in their arms. If it weren’t for what I must do next, I would reach up on tiptoes and kiss them both, one after the other, and ask them to peel these clothes from my body.

With my heart in my throat, I whisper, “I’ll never hold back.”

Chapter Fifty-Two

Thyra

My focus returns to the satchel resting in the center of the table.

I know what’s waiting for me now. “I’m ready to see the page.”

“If you’re sure?” Stellen asks.

I give a firm nod, at which he and Antony slide their arms away from me.

“Will you get it out for me?” I ask them. “I don’t want to touch it more than I need to. While I read it, I need both of you to be ready. When I read the Chronicle, objects within its illustrations came to life and nearly killed me.”

Stellen reaches into the satchel, withdrawing the folded-up paper, carefully opening the parchment and pressing it flat to the table in front of me.

His frost power ices across his hands as he returns to stand on my right.

Antony guards my left, his fangs extended and hands outstretched, as if he’d pull me away at the slightest hint of danger.

I don’t need my Oracle power to foresee how they intend to protect me: Antony will pull me clear. Stellen will blast the page.

Using my right hand, I reach for the parchment, my fingertips an inch away from connecting.