Page 63 of Under the Iron Sky

“Leave then.” Ikarus waved a hand as though shooing away a pest. “Go on—darkness knows my job would be so much easier if you wandered off a cliff.”

Malakai glared up at him, lip curling.

Ikarus lifted a brow in silent challenge.

Malakai stared, then stepped forward, blue flames sparking at his fingers—

Serone’s massive head swiveled in his direction, a low, thunderous hiss slipping between her jaws.

Malakai froze but held his ground, staring up at the beast as if daring her to snap at him again before huffing and turning around.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ikarus demanded.

“To the Pitt! I need to hit something!”

“I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

“Come and stop me then!”

Serone didn’t settle until he’d disappeared from sight.

Aeris stared at the rocky corner Malakai had just slipped around. “We’re going to have to keep a closer eye on him. I don’t like how volatile he’s becoming.”

Neither did Ikarus. But one pain in the arse at a time. “What are your theories on the human?”

Aeris clasped his hands together, seemingly grateful for the change in topic as well. “I’m not sure how this would even be possible, but I believe she might have somehow channeled your abilities when she touched you and then used them against you.”

“You think she stole my powers?”

“Not exactly. Binding two people is a delicate tightrope. It goes without saying that the Ancient One’s powers are depthless, but I wonder if he bound the two of you together in more ways than he realized.”

“Meaning?”

“I think that he might have tethered the two of you together so completely that she was able to grasp on to some of your power when you were in her head and then bend it to her own will. I think you essentially gave her the keys to your memories when she touched you. Whether she’s aware that she can do it again is another matter entirely.”

Again. That one little word snapped through Ikarus like the crack of a whip.

“She’s not getting in my head again. I’d sooner cut her hands off than let her touch me.”

A sharp pull of the reins, and Serone stalked off the ledge and they were free-falling. Freezing red vapor sliced across his skin, air screaming past his ears as the stalagmites rose up to meet them.

And as Serone opened her wings, Ikarus craved the days when his life hadn’t revolved around the golden-haired problem locked in his castle.

19

Soraya sat on the window ledge, seething.

The remains of today’s evening meal lay on the floor: fish in some sort of mild herb sauce, vegetables that were a deep red instead of green and smothered in a sweet black jam, and a dark orange flower beside the cutlery. Every meal, there was always a flower on the tray.

Soraya twirled today’s flower between her fingers. It was a delicate thing, not too different from a peony, with blackened edges as though someone had held it over an open flame. She’d had something similar in her bedroom once, little bouquets of pale stained glass arranged in pots on her desk and shelves. Not to gather Light, just … because. Because they were pretty. Because they made her smile. What a waste.

Sighing, she peered out the window again, hoping maybe this time a crack might’ve appeared in the cave ceiling and she might somehow catch a glimpse of dull gray skies—if only to know the time, if nothing else. Again, no such luck. Gods, was she really so far gone that she’d actually started to miss the damn Iron Sky?

Suddenly unable to sit still, Soraya slid from the ledge and paced her cell.

Today had been no different from any other down here. Ikarus had come into the dungeon, seeming to make a point of not looking her in the eye—as he had done in the two days since she’d gotten into his head—searched her memories, and left. But it was the first time she’d felt the walls were starting to press in on her.

No matter how hard she tried, there seemed to be nothing she could do to keep Ikarus out. She could meditate all day and night, but he was still chipping away at her memories one by one, collecting them like pawns on a chessboard, working his way up to the real prize.