Page 52 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

The storm doesn’t ease. Thyra doesn’t wake. Nara runs like a demon, her speed so fast that she keeps up with Maxim’s serpent with ease. Of course, with visibility at zero, the only reason I know this is because I manage to isolate the serpent’s hisses from the storm, gauging how close we are to the beast.

I focus on that beast’s breathing as a way to keep myself from going out of my mind while we continue down the charcoal mountain range.

Finally, we turn west, heading along another mountain range, this one covered in sandy rocks. Clearly the border between Iron and Ember.

We race down a sharp incline and then we hit the sand, a confounding contrast to the snowstorm we’re bringing with us.

Suddenly, in a mere blink, the snow-filled air clears ahead of me.

A wave of heat rushes through toward us, forcing the icy-blue energy to dissipate at the front of the storm.

In that moment, I take in the confronting sight of Iron and Ember Towers turned to rubble along the border. Bodies buried beneath the snow. Ice piled up around broken stone.

The impossible warmth billowing toward us blossoms across my body, heating my cheeks, not entirely uncomfortable.

Directly ahead, a bright glow soon consumes my view, a source of heat that forces a tunnel of warmth to form, along which we’re now running.

“Nara!” I call, wary of what we’re headed toward. “Go carefully.”

She was already slowing down.

A rush of fire across the air above us reveals Maxim riding his golden serpent, the beast snaking through the air before he disappears from view again. Only with my sharp hearing can I hear the sounds of his descent to the dunes at least a hundred feet away from the source of the warmth, which I can finally make out.

My eyes widen.

Rows of female figures.

They’re standing ahead of us with their arms outstretched, the glow of a midday sun radiating out from their bodies and defying the freezing blizzard we’ve brought with us.

I quickly scan for threats, but as far as I can see—which isn’t far, given how narrow the tunnel of warmth is—the women appear to be alone, surrounded only by sand dunes, the amber granules gleaming within the heat rippling from their upraised palms.

I count seventeen women and the same number of distinct heartbeats, along with Maxim’s heart, a deeper beat. There are no others hiding in the dunes. No ambush waiting to happen.

Still, Nara tosses her head, snarling a warning.

One of the women breaks away from the others and runs toward us, her ochre-colored silks billowing around her petite form, an amber streak in her hair fully visible.

Nara pulls to a stop without me needing to ask.

The woman slows down as she gets closer, both of her arms held out at her sides, her palms pointed away from me. An awkward but non-combative pose.

“Frost King,” she calls. “My name is Miriam. I was sister to the Ember King’s father. It seems my nephew has defied his impulses. Now I must ask you to do the same. Will you allow me to come to the Oracle?”

I guess she hasn’t missed the way my arms have clamped more tightly around Thyra.

“She’s hurting,” I say, the icy tears that froze on my cheeks hours ago melting in the warmth pouring toward us.

“I can see that,” Miriam says.

The cloak has slipped from Thyra’s head. No doubt Miriam can see her face. Not the Ember fae façade Thyra currently wears for me. Her real face. Her determined, furious, compassionate self.

“I will not crowd you or your wolf, Frost King.” Miriam stops a few paces within the clear air around us, keeping a close eye on Nara. “Will you bring the Oracle to me?”

Taking deep breaths, trying to drag calmness into my body through the mere act of inhaling air, I slide to the sand, holding Thyra close.

The ground crunches beneath my feet, and I’m reminded of the beach alongside the village where I first laid eyes on Thyra.

“Stay there, Nara,” I say, meeting the wolf’s ever-more worried eyes. “Trust me. I will spill blood if I have to.”