Page 37 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

Longing aches in my chest.

I’d give anything to be back at High Keep with her and Viridian.

Though they’re light, footsteps echo on the stone floor.

“Where are we?” I ask without turning around.

There’s a heavy pause, and then someone clears their throat. “My family’s home,” Orim says.

I whirl around, brows drawn. “Your family has a home here?”

Asheros’s mouth parts into that smirk. “Don’t tell me you thought they were all from the Silver Court.”

My jaw tenses. Aside from Gryska, whose name and accent make it clear that she’s not from mainland Inatia, I assumed the rest of Asheros’s inner circle were from his Court.

Apparently, I was wrong.

“Brennor…” Orim’s last name. My eyes widen in realization. “How could I have been so blind?” I mutter to myself. Aylen Brennor is the male who oversees operations at the Wynterliffean Mine. Given its proximity to Illnamoor, the Steel Court’s capital, it’s named for my family, House Wynterliff.

That means…

Orim must be related to Aylen. Better yet, we’re somewhere outside of Illnamoor, near the mine. All this time, I thought Asheros was taking me somewhere far from where I needed to be, when in truth, he’s practically bringing me to my mother’s Court himself.

My head snaps to Orim, voice sharp. “Does your father know we’re here?”

“No,” he says, cheeks reddening. “My parents have an apartment in the city where they stay during the mine’s slower season.”

At that, I direct my glare to Asheros. “Are you truly that stupid?”

“What?” he asks, raising his hands. As if he’s oblivious.

“Don’t play that game.” Marching up to him, I jab my finger into his chest. “You know exactly what I mean. For someone who doesn’t want to be discovered, you’re walking a dangerous line by keeping me this close to Illnamoor.”

“For someone who supposedly wants to escape,” Asheros retorts, his voice matching mine, “you seem very upset about that.”

I ball my hands into my fists and scoff. “You’re quite mistaken.”

“Your little outburst suggests otherwise.”

If looks could kill, the one I shoot his way would have burned him alive, leaving nothing but a trace of dust.

The male must have a death wish, because he continues, crystalline eyes blazing. “Anyone who comes looking for you will assume that I’ve taken you far from this place. As you’ve said, it would be stupid of me to hide you here, so why would anyone bother to search this area?”

Forcing an exhale, I cross my arms, fists still clasped tight.

Gods-damn him.

He’s right.

I think of what I would do if I was leading a search party with limited resources. I would focus our efforts on the areas we’ve deemed to be highly probable as our target’s location. Areas that are the most strategic for the kidnapper and provide them the most security. Thinking that way, I would focus on places that are familiar to, or connected with the kidnapper somehow, but unknown to, and isolating for, the hostage.

Asheros’s logic is so obvious, it’s downright infuriating. I wouldn’t waste my resources here, so why would anyone else? Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing. My arms fall to my sides, and I unclench my fists.

“Where will I be staying?” Though my voice has lost its aggression, my words are clipped.

“The bedchambers are upstairs,” Orim says, his tone gentle. “Would you like me to show you?”

“No, I’ll be fine on my own.” I don’t give him an opportunity to respond before I cross the room in swift strides. I do, however, catch the warning glance that Kheldryn gives Asheros, but by the time I can react, I’m already climbing the stairs.

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