Page 51 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

“Are you refusing to help?”

I’m asking him for fucking help. I don’t expect the Ember King to understand how hard that is for me, how dangerous it is for a Frost Fae to even speak that word, let alone act on it.

“I’m not refusing.” His response is a growl as he begins pacing to the side. “She’s clearly hurt, but I’m not the one who can help her. If she comes to my kingdom⁠—”

“I’m not giving her to you.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to.”

My brow furrows.

His shoulders sink. He closes his eyes when he really should keep me in his sights.

“Defy your impulses,” he mutters before he opens his eyes again. “My impulse right now is to burn you to a fucking crisp, Stellen, and take Thyra from you.”

I ignore the fact that we’ve moved on from our official titles to our first names.

“Try,” I challenge him.

Startlingly, he takes a step back from me, the last thing I expected him to do.

“Defy your impulses,” he mutters again. With another deep breath, he says, “My aunt is a healer. She can help Thyra.”

Yet again, he increases the gap between us, another step as he continues. “The last I saw of my aunt, she was waiting at the northern edge of my kingdom, helping to keep this freeze at bay.” He gestures at the storm. “She made her way through the snow, determined to reach me, even though that was dangerous for her. She told me to defy my impulses and bring Thyra to her. If I know my aunt, she’ll be waiting there still. No matter the threat to herself.”

Warily, I take note of the information he gave me. “At the northern edge of your kingdom?”

Which would mean avoiding traveling too far into Ember, making it easier to get out again.

“She can help Thyra and then, if you wish, you can turn around and take Thyra away again.” Maxim speaks through gritted teeth. His shoulders are tense and he sucks air before grinding out, “Defy your fucking impulses.”

With that, he takes yet another step away from me.

He’s retreating.

Too fucking unexpected.

“I’m returning to my aunt now,” he says with barely a backward glance. “My serpent is waiting for me outside the worst of this. It’s up to you if you follow me.”

He turns on his heel, blasts fire through the malicious energy, and leaps into the maelstrom.

Through the gap, I catch a glimpse of stars trying to shine and the vast emptiness of the eastern plains, endlessly dark and swirling with black dust. All of it through the haze of Maxim’s fire before the storm takes over again.

A second later, Maxim’s gone.

Nara has stopped growling. She gives me a worried whimper.

“I have no choice,” I say.

Dropping my chin to the top of Thyra’s head, I squeeze my eyes closed and try, fruitlessly, to calm my bone-deep fear.

This dread can’t be buried, no matter how hard I try.

“Go, Nara,” I call. “Follow the Ember King.”

As my wolf surges forward and the storm moves with us, I lean low and whisper to Thyra, “Hold on, Thyra. Please.”

For two more hours, all I know is fear.