Page 87 of Under the Iron Sky

“Perfectly.” Ikarus tossed the note onto the fire, letting the herbs from the ash-stick calm the tremors in his hand, and watched the Ancient One’s parting words get devoured by the flames.

Have the Hex finished before we get into the temple,

Or I may give your horns to someone worthy of them.

28

Soraya hadn’t seen Ikarus for four days. Recovering, Golla had said when he’d brought her breakfast the morning following her escape attempt. She hadn’t asked, but he’d told her anyway, and insisted she not worry as he’d set down a silver tray filled with pancakes, a small plate of dark green berries that were surprisingly sour, and then a side of chicken with jam seasoning that the creature seemed to be quite fond of. Soraya quite liked it, too, although she’d never admit that out loud.

She’d reveled in the peace at first. After having Ikarus barging into her head numerous times a day at all hours, it was rather nice to be left alone.

She slept, ate, slept some more, exercised, and had several very long showers—in her underwear and undershirt, one could never be too careful—then washed her jacket, trousers, and boots in the spray afterward.

She promised not to squander the opportunity either, and any time in between was spent sitting on her mattress meditating, reinforcing the doors that were still closed in her mind.

By the time day two rolled around, Soraya was well rested and prepared for when Ikarus would undoubtedly barge into her cell to pick up where they’d left off.

He didn’t, though. Which was fine. Great, actually. Another day off to eat and train and reinforce her mental doors would do her a world of good. And suns knew she didn’t miss the headaches that lingered for hours after their sessions.

Worry didn’t set in until the third day. Not worry for Ikarus—but for herself. Granted, Soraya was no medic—and she had done a pretty sloppy job with those staples. She could appreciate that he’d probably want to see one of his own healers to ensure he made a full recovery—but three days? He was being a tad dramatic.

By that afternoon she’d started to wonder if he thought he’d contracted some sort of nonexistent Vordellian disease from being in such close proximity with her in the cave, and she spent most of that evening flitting between eating, resting, and seeing how long she could hold a plank without feeling like she was going to throw up.

He can’t be dead. She’d repeated those words so many times last night they’d practically lulled her to sleep—until a nasty earthquake had jolted her awake in the middle of the night, and she’d paced her cell wondering if the entire beneath was going to collapse until Golla had arrived with breakfast some hours later.

He had to be alive, the fact that she was breathing right now was proof enough of that. So then where was he?

Soraya was contemplating this to take her mind off the handstand she’d been holding for just over two minutes now when a deep voice rumbled by her ear, “Human eat now.”

Apparently Golla was done hiding now that she knew about him, and he made a point of letting her know her meals were ready by appearing out of the floor or wall. Her heart had nearly given out the first time his smiling face had popped out of the ceiling. She was much more used to it now. If she was being honest, she envied the trick, to sink into stones in one place and appear somewhere else. If only she had the same ability, she could’ve been out of here a long time ago, or avoided that awful business in the cave.

Soraya’s pulse quickened just thinking about how she’d sat in his lap. There’d been no way around it. That cave had been far too small to allow anything else, but to threaten him while she was pulling shrapnel out of his chest? To let her heartbeat run wild like that when he’d practically collapsed into her chest? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Gods, she fucking hated him. Hated how her pulse always seemed to quicken in his presence, that she could never quite rein her temper in whenever he was near. Ikarus always seemed to draw that fire out of her—and she’d need to learn to keep it in check before she burned them both.

But that was a problem for another time.

Ignoring Golla, Soraya focused on drawing deep breaths in through her nose and breathing out through her mouth.

She always stripped out of her mission jacket when completing her exercises, and the cold air she usually hated was a welcome balm on her overheated arms and chest now.

In truth, the little golem had been her only source of interaction in Ikarus’s absence. Day and night, he sat with her while she ate every meal. He said it was per Ikarus’s orders, that because her choice of weapon to escape had been said dinner tray, she could no longer be trusted with one and he was to take it with him when she was done.

It’d annoyed her the first morning, but after so many hours with only her own thoughts for company, it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it might. Her mind, she’d learned these last four days, was often not a very kind place when left to her own devices, so it was nice to have another soul there, even if it was one wrapped in rocks that could crush her with a wave of his hand, had his growth not been mysteriously stunted.

Probably helped that he reminded her of Twiigs, just a little. Not the outer shell, but the attitude and persistence. No matter how many times she pushed him away and ignored him, he kept coming back, kept tip tip tapping on the back of her leg to ask if she needed something else to eat or drink or just to sit with her. It was that persistence, she told herself, that had her allowing him to stay in the cell with her all the hours in between meals, reminding her of a little piece of home.

Her arms were shaking something terrible. Her face was no doubt a very unflattering shade of red, and there was an ungodly amount of sweat sliding down the sides of her face, but Soraya held.

She breathed in through her nose.

Out through her mouth, the vapor barely more than a trickle now.

In.

Out.

In.