Page 58 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

My forehead creases at his long explanation about a tower. “What are you saying?”

“The temperatures there are cooler because of the eastern winds,” he says, without a hint of emotion. “You would be distanced enough from my people that they won’t feel immediately threatened, but close enough to the border to watch for any Iron Fae attacks. While also being accessible to Thyra if she needs you.”

“You’re offering me a place to stay?”

He doesn’t seem to want to say it out loud. “You can identify that particular tower by its distinctive black stone. I had it constructed of charcoal rock to blend with the darker environment.”

“I accept.”

He bares his teeth at me. “I didn’t offer you anything.”

I keep a blank face. “Of course you didn’t. We’re enemies.”

“Don’t forget it.” He pulls to his feet, but he doesn’t reach for Thyra, backing away instead, his focus rising to the increasingly hot sun, which is once again burning orange in the sky.

Fire flickers around his hands, but his grimace tells me the flames aren’t voluntary.

The echo of his shout returns to me. It isn’t safe.

From what I’ve heard, his fire is becoming more uncontrollable, but now I wonder if his situation is far direr than that.

“Auntie,” he says, “pitch those daggers into the sand at my feet. I gave the Iron King my word I would confiscate any piece of that wood I found in my kingdom.”

One of the daggers lies on the sand where Miriam dropped it. The other has remained strapped to Thyra’s thigh.

Miriam retrieves both and throws them neatly to Maxim, who scoops one into each fist.

The metal blades melt between his fingers, scorching to ash, but startlingly, the wooden hilts remain intact. He grips each piece in one of his hands as he turns away.

“You’ve spoken with the Iron King,” I say, forcing Maxim to pause.

He half-turns back to give me a curt nod, but I don’t miss the sudden look that passes between him and his aunt.

“So have I,” I say.

Antony and I only had a brief conversation, cut short by the urgency of getting his warriors to safety, but I’m certain there was more he could have told me. And more I could have told him.

Maxim’s already retreating, his muscles bunching as if he were about to run the hell out of here.

Judging by the erratic flames licking along his arms, he has good reason.

“There are things you need to know about Thyra and the curse,” I call, my left hand shooting out, a cautious frost spilling into the air and cooling the space, but I’m conscious that it will take a lot more than this to neutralize Maxim’s burgeoning fire. “When you’re ready, well, you know where to find me.”

Maxim balances on the balls of his feet, the heat radiating off him growing more intense with every passing second.

His focus snaps to his aunt. “The minute Thyra wakes up, I want to be informed.”

“It will be done,” she promises.

A second later, he’s running, fire bursting around him. He races wide of the women and steers clear of his serpent, even though the beast edges toward him.

“No!” he shouts. “Stay away.”

He disappears over the next sand dune and only the heat waves wafting across the air indicate his receding location until finally even those waves are gone.

“He lives alone,” Miriam says. “Has done for years now.” She gives me a pointed look. “No sane fae invites the Ember King into their space.”

Ha. I’m reminded of the time I told Thyra that no sane fae travels across the Frost Kingdom during the nighttime snowstorms.