Page 35 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

To stave off the cold, Kaiba will need to burn his quiet fire, the gentle flame every Ember Fae carries in their heart—every Ember Fae, that is, except for me. I have no gentle flame.

If Kaiba combines his quiet fire with his mother’s, I’m certain they will be able to warm the air and shelter in place.

If they can’t, they will need to seek refuge underground, but that will leave the darkness open to vampyrs…

I tell myself that’s a problem I’ll face if or when I have to.

Right now, my focus returns to the ripple of energy that has reached the border. The icy-blue scythe disappears behind the rising smoke and then⁠—

Whoomph.

I see and hear the impact before I feel it, my mind seeming to lift out of my body as I try to comprehend the scale of destruction happening along the border.

The icy-blue scythe rips through the burning Ember Towers.

Instantly, the fires extinguish and the smoke clears, allowing me to see the border for the first time since the towers started burning.

For a single heartbeat, everything stands still. The pressure in the air builds, my ears buzz, and then the scythe smashes through the towers like a swinging blade.

Each row of structures explodes, first the row of Iron Towers, then the Ember Towers.

Massive chunks of jagged rock fly into the air, sailing south across the border, some pieces of debris sailing high while others smack the now-frost-white sand and tumble violently along the ground.

If there were any fae, Iron or Ember, alive within those towers, their bodies will have shattered.

I have seconds before the debris will hit me, let alone the cutting force that’s angling down toward me like a slow-moving blade.

But fuck—my heart sinks because of what I can now see forming behind the remains of the Iron Towers.

A third threat.

An avalanche of snow.

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.