Page 90 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

I take another glance across the distance, making out the shape of what must be a narrow pass through the mountain range, given the sliver of light shining through it.

“A long way to walk,” I murmur.

“Then you should begin,” Miriam replies before she darts closer. “Unless you want to commandeer Maxim’s serpent.”

She steps back with a wink and hurries to the Mothers, who have gathered near the edge of the dark channel.

I guess I’m on my own.

Well, except that I’m not.

Farther ahead, Maxim wears a confused scowl, as it seems he’s realized Miriam and the Mothers aren’t coming with us, but he turns away and keeps moving.

I don’t try to catch up, but I have no problem matching his speed.

While the gap between us and the Mothers widens, Maxim maintains the distance between him and me, staying ahead but to my right, where he can easily keep me in his sights.

After a few long and quiet minutes, and just when I’m about to break the silence between me and the Ember King, I pick up the Mothers’ whispers from behind me, words I wouldn’t be able to hear if not for Stellen’s power.

“Let’s rest until Thyra returns,” one of them says.

“If she comes back,” Charis replies.

“Only she can decide that,” Miriam says, an equally quiet whisper.

I nearly miss a step, unsettled by what they said, but I right myself and keep going.

As we walk, still in silence, I notice a pattern between Maxim and me.

If I veer even slightly toward him, he reasserts the distance between us. I’m not certain it’s even conscious on his part. As if he’s deeply attuned to the nearness of any fae and moves away out of sheer habit.

The more often he does this, the more I want to test him. Not to be cruel. I need to know if the blood bind’s effects will protect me from his flames. I need to know if I can withstand his fire, or at least to what extent I can withstand it. Not out of reckless pride, but so I can plan. I need to know the limits of my new strength.

After another long minute of heavy silence, broken only by our footfalls and the serpent’s slithering across the sandy ground, I speak up.

“For someone who once tried to seize me, you seem determined to keep your distance.”

“You seem determined to endanger yourself,” he snaps back.

As he speaks, new flames flicker around his hands and across his shoulder blades. No, make that hand, singular. His right hand isn’t gleaming. Given how randomly his fire seems to appear, I don’t read too much into it.

“I’m not as fragile as you may think,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.

Maxim slows his pace, allowing me to draw level with him while keeping the same proportionate distance between us. But it seems his pause was in service of subjecting me to the full force his glare.

“Not fragile?” He arches an eyebrow at me. “When Stellen brought you to me, you were at death’s door.”

“Well, you fight a pack of wolves, defeat Lilis, and hold a world-destroying power in your hand, and I’d like to know at whose door you’ll knock.”

“Hell’s door,” he mutters, but his lips curve and his eyebrows arch. “You fought Lilis? And survived?”

That’s what he finds most impressive?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

Damn. He’s irritating me. A slow, creeping angst.

He gives me a lazy smile through the sooty strands of his brown hair and I’m suddenly conscious that he’s allowed the gap between us to narrow.