Page 234 of Three Dark Kings and the Starlit Court
“You were my hope.”
Firmly, I shake my head. “I only carry your hope. It was always yours.”
He pauses, hunching against the wall. “Then I give my hope to you, Thyra. To carry with you. To keep you safe.”
I don’t understand why he’s talking this way. “Antony?—”
“I need you to stay alive,” he says, his hand dragging down the tunnel wall, scraping before he straightens. “I’m going to give you an order now, and youwillobey me.”
Desperately, I try to make out his expression behind the sweaty strands of his hair, my focus sliding to Azul in the background, startled at the way Azul trembles every time Antony speaks.
This monstrous bird flew me through the bloodlands, andnowhe’s afraid…
“Azul will fly you back tothe Iron Kingdom,” Antony says, fingers clawed against the tunnel wall. “I will stop the vampyrs from following you. You will find Victor?—”
“What about you?”
“I’m not coming with you.”
As I take another step toward him, Antony moves another step back.
“Antony—”
“Donotcall me that.”
I shudder to a stop, right at the furthest reaches of the silvery light that continues to glow from far behind me.
When Antony spoke just now, his voice…
Nothing like his own. Deeper, guttural… Feral.
“Your time is almost up, Thyra,” he growls, low and soft. Dangerous. “You have one chance to escape me.Take it. Now.”
What reckless fury carries me beyond the light, compelling me to close the gap between us, to defy the danger and reach up to him, press my palm to his cheek, urge him down to me so I can finally see his eyes.
My heart stops in my chest, my hands shaking where I press them, one to his bloodied heart, one to his cheek, while he closes his eyes at my touch, as if he’s memorizing this moment, trying to hold on to it.
“I didn’t choose this, Thyra,” he whispers. “It was done to me.”
A sob rises to my throat. I should run while I can, fight while I can, but I need one more moment of hope.
One more heartbeat of belief.
A hope crushed as easily as an ivory rose petal when he whispers, “Too late,” and his arms snake around me, hard as iron, an unbreakable grip, his voice becoming a hungry snarl. “Ask me again what you should call me.”
That elusive question that echoed within my Oracle vision. A question that had no context or meaning until now.
I try to speak past the anguish shattering my heart. “What should I call you?”
As his fangs graze my neck, he whispers, “Call me Vampyr.”
