Page 90 of ColdIron
Murder the Fae!
True heir! True heir!
The arrowheads were iron infused with Coldiron. I could feel the sentient metal thrumming in them, straining against the archdemon’s command. Under his control, they would track Aelindor. Dodging wouldn’t save him. The arrows would adjust, hunt, follow until they struck. Iron laced with Coldiron in a Fae’s bloodstream was fatal.
I didn’t understand how the archdemon could also command Coldiron. Fury possessed me—Coldiron wasmine. No matter how deep this demon’s power ran.
Thearrows flew.
One after the other. The archdemon staggered the release, doubling his odds. Two iron-tipped bolts screaming toward Aelindor. He was locked in combat with a demoness, a newcomer, his back half-turned to the sky.
The Fae heir spotted me.
“Get Max out of here!” he roared, kicking the demoness off the train to reach me.
He saw the arrows, but he wouldn’t be able to dodge them.
34
MAX
Arrows tipped with Coldiron streaked toward Aelindor. His shield was down, lost in the chaos of the melee. Once Coldiron entered his bloodstream, it would turn to poison.
Thought fled. Instinct took over. I launched high and threw myself between him and the arrows. My foot swung up, kicking the first shaft.
Down,I commanded the Coldiron.
The impact jarred through my ankle and up my shin, but the arrow spun wide and dropped onto the roof.
The second arrow sailed straight for my neck.
“No! Max!” Aelindor screamed.
The other heirs saw me in the arrow’s path too. None of them could reach me in time. If they tried, they’d be dead.
Caspian howled, the sound raw with terror. Drakken roared—disbelief, fury, or relief?
No dodge. No time.
They thought they’d lost me.
But Coldiron was mine to command. And I didn’t take kindly to imposters.
I slapped my palms together and caught the arrowhead between them. The impact should have punched through my hands and out the back of my neck. Instead, the Coldiron recognized me. The rigid iron infused with the sentient metal shifted at my touch. Softening, flowing, reshaping like warm clay. Not liquid, not solid. Something in between. Something that obeyed.
The true heir!Coldiron chirped.Not the false one!
I wasn’t an heir. But I was master to any metal. My element.
Whatever that meant.
True heir commands us!
I cocked my arm and hurled the reformed Coldiron back at the archdemon.
Go get him,I commanded.
The molten metal hardened mid-flight into a spike. It crossed the distance in a heartbeat. The archdemon’s expression cracked—ancient arrogance splintering. His flaming horns guttered. He barked a command in guttural demonic, clawing at the air, trying to reassert control.
