Page 112 of Under the Iron Sky

Voices filled the brief pockets where the agony ebbed. Muffled to begin with, like she was trying to listen to music through a thick steel door. Ikarus’s deep cadence was easy to pick out but the others …

One was low and gravelly like living smoke. The other a woman’s voice that was so smooth and delicate it made Soraya think of the first soft petals of spring.

An angel was hovering above her the first time she opened her eyes. She had the loveliest face Soraya had ever seen. A galaxy of stars sparkled beneath her large round eyes, the irises the same pink as a setting sun.

Soraya liked her eyes. They reminded her of home. Before all this.

She was there a lot, this angel. Rubbing strange-smelling ointment into Soraya’s neck, smoothing her hair back, running a cold cloth over her temples, and saying … Soraya had no idea. The words were always snatched from her consciousness the moment they left the angel’s lips.

Ikarus was there too sometimes, peeking over the angel’s wings and handing her strange-colored flowers and glass vials full of shimmering liquid that tasted like tar.

It wasn’t until much later, when the roaring fire that was her blood had banked to embers, that Soraya realized the angel’s wings weren’t made of feathers but four iridescent membranes that shimmered pink and gold in the candlelight.

Emelda.

“You need to rest, Ikarus,” Soraya heard the fairy say when the flames let her breathe again.

She couldn’t make out his response, only Emelda’s answering scoff.

“Come on,” she said from somewhere on Soraya’s right. She tried to open her eyes to check, but her lids were heavy as iron. “Golla really outdid himself tonight. I’m sure there’s some leftovers in our room, but you’ll have to be quick about it. You know what Malakai is like when he’s been with the Ancient One all day.”

“I can’t.”

Emelda groaned, although Soraya couldn’t make out if she was annoyed or worried. “You’re out there all day doing the Ancient One’s bidding and commanding his legions, then searching the human’s memories for something you don’t even know is there, then doing darkness only knows what in the hours between. Can’t you just give the girl to someone else? You’re already doing so much. If you keep burning the candle at both ends like this, you’re going to work yourself onto an early pyre.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that, Mel. He assigned her to me. Until I give him what he wants, she’s my fucking problem to deal with.”

“Then just rest. Please have some food with us, a drink. One night off will do you a world of good.”

“I’ll rest when the war’s done.”

There was a lengthy pause before Emelda replied, “Varena wouldn’t have wanted you to work yourself to the bone like this.”

Ikarus’s reply was swallowed by the flames.

Pain was a mere whisper when Soraya woke again.

Fearing that it might return like a shark on the scent of blood if she moved too quickly, Soraya wiggled her fingers experimentally, then her toes—all still there as far as she could tell. Her lungs seemed to be in working order too, but as for the rest of her …

Soraya opened her eyes slowly, tentatively blinking toward the circle of lights above her head. The chandelier was the first thing she saw when her vision cleared, then the vines in the ceiling surrounding it. Focusing on taking very shallow breaths, she trailed those vines across the ceiling and down the walls to where they disappeared behind a high-backed leather armchair, occupied by a pink-and-gold-winged fairy.

A stiff-shouldered Aeris stood staring out at Illieck, arms folded across his chest. Only a small portion of his face was visible beneath his hood, but the quiet fury there was enough to lock every muscle in Soraya’s body in place to avoid attracting his gaze.

“I don’t understand why he’s insisting you treat her when we have perfectly good healers I can bring here,” Aeris snapped.

Emelda’s gaze didn’t so much as flicker from the dark leather book in her hand. “We’ve already discussed this, my love. The spy is getting bolder, and until they’re stopped, Ikarus doesn’t trust anyone outside the family—meaning, I’m the only one he’ll let near her.”

“He trusted others to treat Serone.” Aeris monitored the burrows, tension coiling in his neck as though he expected a giant spider might swoop down at any moment to snatch Emelda away.

Emelda turned the page, apparently not at all bothered by the thorns twisting Aeris’s every word. “First, I don’t know anything about treating dragons, so he had no choice but to take her to Naemanor, and second, I wouldn’t go near that nasty creature even if he offered me an entire castle of jewels.”

When Aeris said nothing, Emelda sighed and shut her book. Standing, she tossed it onto the chair and threaded her arms around his neck, tugging at his collar until he turned to face her. “You’re already late for your duties.” She wove her fingers into his hair, toying with the braids at the back of his neck. “I’m fine—and I won’t be here long anyway. Malakai has another fight tonight, so we’re going to the Pitt in a couple hours.”

That explained the extravagant sleeveless chiffon gown she was wearing, then. The deep plum silky material was the same color as the paint covering her eyelids, and the silver accents on her corseted body that vaguely resembled giant petals were nearly identical to the flowers pinned in her hair.

A muscle ticked in Aeris’s jaw. “Where’s Golla? I’d feel much more comfortable leaving you here with her if he were here to protect you.”

Soraya assumed she was the her he was disgustedly referring to.