Page 68 of Under the Iron Sky

He went very quiet and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. There was an intensity to his stare, a sort of dark longing, like he wanted nothing more than one of those stalactites hovering like an omen of death to finally come loose and put him out of his misery.

Soraya’s eyes traced over him. He looked exhausted. In the physical sense, yes, those purple marks beneath his eyes that she’d never noticed before didn’t exactly scream a good night’s sleep, but it ran a little deeper than that. Like looking at a piece of wood that’d been whittled down over decades.

Soraya hated that look. Hated that she knew it, because she’d seen that same vacant expression in her own reflection far too many damn times to count—

Soraya stepped back like she’d been struck, inhaling sharply. What the fuck was that? She’d done nothing but fantasize about all the ways she was going to kill him since she’d arrived and—what? He’d shown the slightest hint that there might be something marginally less monstrous beneath that horned helmet than she’d initially thought, and she was feeling sorry for him?

Nope. Not happening.

She started to pace again, a fire ignited in her veins as she recalled everything she’d learned about him.

His ruthlessness.

His affection for Black Shadow.

His father’s death.

Then Emelda, Aeris, and Malakai. Clearly friends given how often they were here.

Just like when she was organizing her memories, she imagined each one on a separate blueprint and laid them on the floor.

She plucked a berry from the flower Golla had given her, rolling it between her fingers as she worked through them all.

Ikarus was, first and foremost, a Demon. A monstrous creature of the night.

But even monsters had a heart.

Soraya crushed the berry between her fingers, watching the blood-red juices slowly slide down her thumb.

Ikarus had a heart too, it turned out. She’d seen it stutter when his dragon was in pain. Seen it shatter when he’d watched his father take his last bloodied breath and left this world for the next.

She just needed to figure out how to take one of those jagged shards for herself, and stab him through the throat with it.

20

Rolling his shoulders, Ikarus climbed the steps leading to the dungeon one at a time, and tried to gather his strength for this morning’s sparring match. He really wasn’t in the mood for this, but with Ramapheal’s patience thinning by the day, it needed to be done.

The human was lying on her back when he cleared the last step. Her face was turned away from him, curls brightening the stones on the floor.

“Odd place for a nap, human.”

She didn’t move. Strange. She was usually so quick to jump to her feet the moment he entered. Maybe she was having an off-day too.

Her stillness didn’t make any sense until he got much closer. Until he saw the thick red liquid oozing from her mouth, puddling on the floor by her face.

Blood.

He cut his hand sharply across the air, tearing the cell bars right out of the ground, and sprinted to her side.

He knelt over her, the world a dull hum against the pulse hammering in his throat. What had she done?!

He took her face in his hands. Her skin was warm. So why wasn’t she breathing?

Air whooshed by his ear, then agony was rippling across the side of his head.

Ikarus hissed, eyes squeezing closed. When he opened them again, the human was gone.

Stifling a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, clutching what he was fairly certain was a cracked bone just above his right eye.