Page 116 of Under the Iron Sky

Sighing, she took another deep drag, tipping her head back against the wall to watch the smoke drift toward the vines on the ceiling. She swore some of the shriveled buds there shook slightly when they came into contact with the smoke, curled-up petals reaching out to taste before trembling and tucking themselves back up tight.

These fairy herbs weren’t half bad, prescribed by Emelda to help with any lingering pain left over from the bite. She’d been reluctant to try them until Golla reassured her that he’d help prepare them himself and make sure there was, in his words, no nastiness inside.

Still, the silver tin had sat on her bed untouched for hours, until heat had begun climbing through the side of her neck, echoes of the fairy venom pulsing in her veins, and she’d thought to hell with it. Golla had been feeding her for weeks now and she was fine. If the people down here wanted her dead, she would have been a while ago.

Soraya was halfway down the first heavenly smelling little stick when the subtle hum of magic swept through the air. Ikarus was back. She stared at the bathroom door, waiting for the heavy pelt of water against stone when the shower started. Minutes passed, but it never came.

She was just lighting a second ash-stick with the matches on the underside of the tin when the bathroom door opened and he emerged, a wall of thick steam billowing at his back. So he had showered, then. How had she not heard him?

Darkness swallowed him at first, but Soraya was much more accustomed to it now. A few blinks, and there he was.

She watched him pad silently into their room, one with the shadows.

He was wearing only black trousers, a dark shirt clutched in a fist by his side.

Soraya let her eyes slide over his large form, watching the thin streaks of water dripping from the short silver strands of hair on his forehead trail between all the scars on his muscular chest, so many more than she’d glimpsed after their fight in the metal graveyard.

The abuse was as layered as it was deliberate, from the jagged healing slash across his chest, the claw marks between the V at the top of his hips, then the large bruise that colored most of the left side of his torso a deep purple.

Ikarus glanced at the bed, scowling when he realized she wasn’t there. Tossing the shirt onto his chair, he stepped onto the balcony, the red crystals in the walls brightening in his presence.

Palming the side of his neck, he peered around the alcoves in their balcony, seeming to look for something. “Has anyone ever told you staring is rude, Vous Mylista?”

Soraya didn’t flinch. Of course he’d known where she was. “What happened to you?”

“Why? You gonna kiss it better?”

“I’d rather jump off the balcony, but thanks.”

Evidently having trouble locating what he was looking for, Ikarus sighed and stared out at Illieck. “The Ancient One is getting irritated with my progress in your head.”

“So he did that to you as punishment?”

Ikarus shrugged faintly. “There’s a lot riding on me. Ramapheal wanted to ensure I understood that.”

And appeared to have relished doing it too.

Soraya shifted on the bureau, and the movement must’ve drifted the smoke toward the balcony because Ikarus suddenly stiffened. He spun around, his eyes immediately finding hers across the dark room. Time stretched as they stared at each other, her veiled in shadow, him gilded in faint light, their roles temporarily reversed in this corner of the world.

Then he noticed the silver tin by her hip. The thing between her fingers. His eyes pulsed with anger when they met hers again. “Are those my fucking ash-sticks?”

Soraya shrugged. “No. Golla gave them to me to help me recover from the bite.”

She held his stare as she took another drag, fighting a smirk as his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Ikarus scoffed, clearly not believing her. He charged across the room, hand reaching out to snatch the thing from her hand—

Only to come to a careening halt when Soraya slammed her boot against his chest.

Ikarus froze, the mighty warrior’s breath catching slightly as his eyes trailed down to where they were connected, where she was keeping him at bay. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He looked up, and the rest of the world fell away when their eyes met, until it was only him and her and the darkness.

Shit.

Soraya hadn’t thought this through. She could get away with this sort of stuff with the men back at the barracks—but Ikarus was no man. He was a monster. A vicious beast trapped in a cage of bone and flesh.

He may not have his wings of knives or that sword she’d only ever seen him touch once, but he was power. Even now, every vine and rock in the room seemed to be curving inward toward him, slaves to that horrible power lurking in his veins.