Page 88 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

Again, my right hand burns, an itching scorch that could consume me.

For a furious heartbeat, I imagine Antony might have hurt her. But no. He threatened me with a gruesome death if I ever harmed Thyra.

In a flash, I recall my encounter with Hadrian the other night. He’d ranted about the reign of someone called ‘the eternal heir,’ telling me, fanatically, that he was the heir because he’d cut her first.

Now, it’s as if Thyra’s bearing all of her scars to me, all at once. A tapestry of survival painted on her skin. Proof that she will prevail, no matter what.

Her gaze is a dagger to my heart. Furious. Dark. Challenging.

“Ember King.” She draws to a stop only three paces away from me, dangerously near to my fiery form.

My right palm burns even hotter.

I dare to call her by her first name, even though I don’t have that right. “Thyra.”

I expect the press of her lips to harden, but her expression remains impenetrable. “I’m told you came for me.”

“You asked me to.” With all my might, I fight the urge to crash across the short distance between us like my life depends on it.

“When the sun turns bitterly cold and the sand bleeds iron,” she says. “Come for me. When I need you.”

When she needs me.

But she’s already turning, calling, “Miriam?”

I’m not surprised when my aunt steps out from the group, although once again, I’m impressed at the Mothers’ ability to conceal each other’s identities so completely that I didn’t pick Miriam out from the crowd.

“Should we proceed alone?” Thyra asks, eyeing me as she half-turns to my aunt.

“Proceed where?” I ask, intrigued by Thyra’s body language, as if she’d actively stop me from accompanying them if Miriam said so.

Miriam keeps a safer distance between herself and me than she did the other day. “This is fate,” she says, evading my question. “The king should come with us.”

“Very well,” Thyra murmurs before casting the full force of her focus back on me. “You will come with us, Ember King.”

A command. From an Oracle to a king.

A challenge that stirs my blood.

I can’t stop the sudden smile crashing across my lips as I consider her through the sooty strands of my hair. “Will I now?”

The same response I would have given her if she’d told me to stay away.

She speaks with the certainty of power. “You will.”

Well, fuck. How could I not?

A distant explosion jolts me back to reality. Night is falling. Hadrian’s weapons won’t work as well without sunlight to set the volatile thistleberry oil on fire. Now is the time when we can do the most damage to Hadrian’s offensive. I need to get back to the border, not delay here.

“I have to help my men⁠—”

Thyra moves so fast that the breath snatches from my chest.

In a heartbeat, she’s at my side, dangerously close.

For an unbearable moment, I’m certain the back of her right hand brushes the back of mine, but I can only have imagined it. If she’d touched me, she’d be on fire.

I’m frozen, my heart pounding, mentally roaring at myself to step away from her. To control my flames. Like that’s possible.