“So, Max.” Caspian mockingly narrowed his eyes. “You just talk to Coldiron, and it just… listens?”
I turned the arrow in my hand. Its glow pulsed once, then dimmed.
“Well,” I said. “There’s a cost.”
36
MAX
“Cost? What cost?” Caspian asked. Fierce protectiveness burned in his green eyes, as if he wanted to step between me and whatever price I was about to pay—and pay it himself.
“Price of pain.” I swallowed. “I have to offer Coldiron my hurt.”
“Does it demand you harm yourself?” Aelindor asked. His voice was dangerously soft. Power and rage brimmed behind his blue eyes, barely leashed.
“It won’t hurt me. Not in a physical sense.” I shook my head. “But it needs to soak in my emotional pain to operate at full strength. It feeds on my memories of suffering. The worse the memory, the more potent the metal becomes and the more willing.”
The heirs went quiet.
“Pain isn’t the only strong emotion,” Aelindor said. “Let’s make memories of joy from now on. Coldiron is sentient. That means it can learn and accept joy as fuel as well. The metal is bonded to you, and it’ll grow with you.You won’t always be in pain. There’ll be joy, Max. I’ll make sure of that.”
That was the nicest thing anyone had said to me. The Fae heir was obviously wiser than I was.
“Okay,” I said, trusting him.
“‘He walks in shadow, she in flame,’”Caspian whispered, his voice laced with incredulous awe.“‘By Coldiron’s shroud, no blood may sing.’”He stared at me, still twisted halfway around in his seat. “It all makes sense now.”
I frowned. “Makes what sense?”
“Now you sing, Max,” the shifter prince said softly.
“I don’t sing, mostly.” I shook my head. “Even when the miners did their once-a-year mourning for the dead, I never joined in. I’m terribly off-key.”
You’ll sing more beautifully than an angel when you come to your full power,the creature in me chimed in. But its flattery wouldn’t lower my guard for it.
“However,” I drew a sharp breath, “I have a darker truth to share.”
“You never need to fear us, Max.” Aelindor’s voice was steady. “Drakken…barks a lot, but he’s sworn not to harm you. No matter what.”
When had that happened? The dragon prince didn’t object to Aelindor’s claim. It seemed there was some deal between them that I wasn’t privy to.
“How far are we from the outpost, sirs?” I asked.
“One point six miles,” Drakken answered.
“Then the Spartans won’t hate me for trekking the rest of the way.” I turned the Coldiron arrow in my hand. “All engines are powered by Stormglass after theRupture, but no one knows Coldiron has come into play. The military bus and the jeep Captain Carroway drives now are both tainted with an atom of Coldiron. The tiniest amount. But that’s enough for me to shut them down.”
I reached out with my mind. In the mine, I’d tested my range: over one point two miles, reliably. The iota of Coldiron embedded in the bus’s Stormglass answered immediately.
She’s here! She calls!
Stop the bus,I commanded.
Behind us, tires screamed against dirt. The bus lurched, shuddered, and died—its engine cutting out mid-stride, momentum carrying it a few more feet before it ground to a halt.
The driver cranked the ignition, but the Stormglass-powered engine refused to turn over.
Captain Carroway pulled up beside the stalled bus. “What’s the problem?”