Page 151 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

If my people thought my mother was a Blood Fae, they would hunt me.

I would be forced to kill them, and worse, my rule would be called into question. The Lords of the Ember Court will see their chance to fight for the throne. While Hadrian strikes from the north and the Tol-Dakri strike from the south, the lords would be too busy fighting each other within the underground cities to defend my people. Hundreds of innocent fae will die.

I pick up my pace as I hurry from Ortansia’s quarters, the heavy silence throughout the city hitting me. As fast as I can, I scale the wall, evade the brown serpents patrolling the sky, and run back to my serpent.

As we soar into the air, my thoughts churn.

I have to pass on my crown, and quickly. Not only to protect my family, but to protect Thyra.

The Tol-Dakri swore to destroy dragons and all things touched by dragon magic. They sing literal fucking songs about tearing the hide from the last fire dragon’s dead body.

Ortansia is her people. She won’t give up her life or her leadership and she won’t tolerate dragon magic.

She won’t want to speak with Thyra.

She’ll want to kill her.

And she won’t wait four weeks to do it.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Thyra

My head spins as I look up at Stellen and Antony, where they hover protectively at my sides as if they’d pull me to safety, even though the danger is literally in my own hand.

“You’re telling me that this blood bind…and the hammer crumbling into dust…may have saved my life?” I ask.

“Only because we thought we should break the blade,” Stellen replies, his voice frosty with tension.

“Which we believed,” Antony says, “because the blade’s own cursed energy showed you an image in the Chronicle and told us to do it.”

I press the balls of my feet to the floor, trying to ground myself. Despite how much Antony and Stellen and I have talked for the last few hours, there are still things of which I haven’t spoken.

“When the blood bind transferred to me and the hammer was crumbling, a blade vision struck. The False—” I falter. “Are we still calling her that?”

“For clarity, we probably need to,” Stellen says.

“Well, the False Queen’s spirit told me, and I quote, ‘Accept the gifts I’m giving you.’ She spoke of the blood bind as if it were a gift.”

Both men sink into their chairs, hunched forward in their seats.

“She warned that if she recalled the curse, it would consume her,” Stellen says. “She felt the curse cleave her heart. With her blood in the blade, part of her soul could have been trapped. And then corrupted by the curse.”

“Her spirit turned malevolent,” I say.

Stellen presses a finger to the False Queen’s portrait. “But possibly trying to fight back.”

Antony growls. “The altered blood bind protects you, Thyra, but it harms us, the ancestors of the men who wronged her.”

Stellen grimaces. “Well, except that it also protects us.”

Antony’s eyebrows shoot up. “How so?”

“The heart threads connect us to Thyra,” Stellen says. “If the blade breaks, we could die too.”

Desperate for answers, I rub my temples. “But who altered the blood bind? It happened during Aeliana’s lifetime, not the False Queen’s lifetime. Was it Maxim’s mother? If so, when did she do it and why would she want to? How could she have even known what the False Queen wanted?”

Another groan drags from my lips as questions continue to pour out of me. “Why would Maxim’s mother create runes to drain your power and tie the ivory ribbon to my arm and by doing so, both harm and protect you? And how did she⁠—”