Page 34 of Under the Iron Sky

A deep, guttural gasp, and the magic was gone.

When Soraya opened her eyes, Ramapheal was standing in front of her—and she could’ve sworn the expression rippling across his face wasn’t anger. It was pain.

Soraya’s breath sawed out of her. She could barely see through the agony and blinding holes in her vision. Keep upright. Don’t crumble now.

A man with green eyes and blood-red hair rushed to Ramapheal’s side. “Are you all right, Ancient One? What did you see?”

Ramapheal’s eyes narrowed slightly. He watched her as though she were a rare bird that might take flight at the slightest movement, then tilted his head, the spiders moving with him. “Nothing of any importance. But this one could become a fountain of information for us, given time and the right set of pliers.” His eyes flitted to the Demon. “You will take her, Ikarus. If anyone knows where the humans are keeping their pieces of the Arch, it is her. Find out where they are, and bring them to me.”

Panic swept over Soraya like a cold wave. Oh Gods, no. This could not be happening.

The Demon, Ikarus, bowed his head, a loyal dog on a leash if Soraya had ever seen one. “As you wish, Ancient One.”

When Ramapheal extended a hand, the Demon obediently stepped forward, no further explanation needed. He removed one of his gauntlets and offered his palm to Ramapheal, not flinching when his master sliced the delicate skin open with one of those talons.

Blood seeped from the wound, and all Ramapheal had to do was curl a finger for it to float into the air.

“If you are to be her captor,” he explained, gathering the blood into a neat ball, “we need to be sure she cannot escape.” Turning his palm toward the ceiling, he crooked his fingers, and the blood glowed with a faint black light. When it faded, he strode back toward Soraya, nodding to one of the guards that still had hold of her. “Cut her palm.”

Soraya was pushed to lie on the floor by Ramapheal’s boots. One guard held her there, not caring that they were smearing her face with that fairy’s blood still left on the marble, while the other angled her wrist, her naked palm right there for the taking.

“This blood ritual will tie the human’s life to Ikarus’s,” Ramapheal said as he stood over her, “but while he will be unaffected by this magic, the girl’s life will be linked to his, so if he dies, so does she.”

A cool blade was against her palm, then pain. Soraya hissed, biting on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She tried to get up. To move. Tried to do anything to stop this from happening, but the guards were too strong.

“The only way Ikarus would let her escape would be if she killed him,” Ramapheal said. “This spell prevents her from doing so without ending her own life.” A wave of his hand, and Ikarus’s blood flew into Soraya’s open palm.

Acid was being shoved into her veins. Hot. Boiling. Highly corrosive acid that ate everything it touched. It traveled up her arm, using her bones and muscles to hoist itself to the very tips of her toes, the cursed blood metastasizing to every fiber of her being until she felt it everywhere. Felt him everywhere.

“You are now bound together,” Ramapheal announced. “Tied together by blood. Till death do you part.”

10

You will not break.

Those words echoed through Soraya’s head like a war drum. She let them steady her, let their hum settle over her like ointment on a burn as the Demon grabbed the back of her neck and hoisted her to her feet, fairy blood no doubt smeared across her face.

She felt the eyes of every creature in the room slicing into her, heard their insults in a language she didn’t understand. She didn’t react. Held her chin high as she was marched back up the aisle she’d been dragged down minutes ago.

It had only been a few minutes, hadn’t it? Funny, how the world could be broken and remade in just a few short seconds. But that was war, wasn’t it? Everything could change in the blink of an eye—your city, your family, your entire belief system, all of it swept away as easily as a sandcastle in the tide. The only way to survive was to cling to whatever you could and pray you weren’t swept under too.

The Demon led Soraya out of the throne room and onto what was left of the observation deck.

You will not break.

You will not break.

But the farther she walked, the harder the reality became to ignore.

She’d been captured. Despite all her best efforts, she’d been captured—and then given over to the Demon like she was a goldfish he’d won at a carnival. This Demon—Ikarus … He must’ve been quite the interrogator if Ramapheal was trusting him with her.

Could he memory walk like Ramapheal just had? Or tried to. She didn’t think he’d seen anything in her head just then, but it was the first time she’d been subjected to it, so she had no prior experience to draw from. It was apparently a rare gift among their kind, to be able to insert oneself into another’s mind and peruse their memories like flipping holoscreens—but he was a Demon after all. Who knew what he was capable of.

Or maybe he wouldn’t need it. Maybe he preferred more traditional methods and would spends hours torturing her the old-fashioned way, no doubt relishing in breaking her apart again and again in both body and soul until she gave him exactly what he wanted. The locations of the last Vordellian bases. Their battle plans. Where they were keeping their pieces of the Arch.

And if Ramapheal were to get those pieces … If he remade that thing and completed the ritual just like Aleena had … A shiver wracked down Soraya’s spine at the mere thought.

No. She’d die before she gave those secrets over.