Page 114 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

“He’s distracted,” I whisper.

From the other end of Artain’s altar, Sabine quietly unlatches the birdcage door. Her lips move silently, and the bird takes wing, hopping onto a wooden deer carving in the center of the altar.

Not a second later, Artain is beside her, having crossed the amphitheater with inhuman speed.

Though he smiles, his eyes remain cold. The arrow in his hand tap-tap-taps against the cage, a warning. He wags a scolding finger. “Lady Sabine, these aremyofferings. Should you see something you desire, I’d happily gift it to you, but no freeing your little friends.”

He begins to reach for his bow, eyes already targeting in on the albino crow, when I interject myself.

“Let me,” I say casually.

I dive forward to catch the creature. It flaps its wings to evade me, but this isn’t my first crow. I feign grabbing it with my left hand, knowing that means it will take off to the right. As soon as its feet lift off the carving, I snap out my hand to grab one talon.

It flaps its wings only once before I pin it to my chest. As I return it to its cage, I feel the weight of Artain’s gaze on me. The arrow in his grip is stilled now.

“Piece of cake.” I dust off my hands, grinning.

“Basten was known throughout Duren as the best huntsman in the seven kingdoms,” Sabine chirps sweetly.

Artain’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the claim. Incredulous, he laughs as he calls to the other fae. “Samaur! Woudix! Come here, brothers. Listen to this.” The two other Blades pick their way through the crowd to join us. Woudix pauses his sharpening of a dagger, sliding it back into his belt before approaching. “Lord Basten claims to be the best huntsman in the seven kingdoms.”

I crook my lips in a rogue’s smile. “Why, you think you’re better?”

Another incredulous laugh bursts out of him, but he’s leaning forward now, his eyes sparking at my gall. “I’m a god. I’ve been hunting for three thousand years.”

“Then it would be easy for you.” Sabine strokes the albino crow through the bars, gently trailing her fingers along its feathers.

“What would be easy, Highness?” he asks her.

“A test.” She shrugs. “A competition.”

Artain’s eyes gleam with the thrill of a challenge. He flicks the arrow in his hand, spinning it in a showy arc as he turns to me. “What do you say, mortal? Shall we put it to the test?”

I lift my eyebrows, feigning surprise, and laugh good-naturedly. “Only a fool would accept a challenge from a god.” I shift again, acting uncertain. “But, let’s say I’m a fool…what manner of test?”

“Do you know the tale of the Night Hunt?” Artain asks, voice rising.

“You’ll have to refresh my memory,” I say. “I’m not much of a reader.”

Artain fans out his hands theatrically, still holding thearrow as he gestures. “Picture this. In a time before time, Immortal Solene, Goddess of Nature, wished for a rare black pearl apple. I climbed the fabled Tree of Quick to pick one for her pretty lips, with the promise of a tryst beneath the branches. As soon as she’d eaten her fill, the fickle thing transformed into a fawn and bounded away. I pursued until sunset—until night—when I set my arrow’s aim upon her and made her surrender herself to our deal.” His green eyes light up in wicked delight at the memory. “Trust me, the little siren wanted the chase as much as I did.”

The story settles heavily in my gut.

I give a cheeky smirk. “And what, you want me to play Solene?”

Artain’s face sinks into a scowl. “No, you buffoon. Lady Sabine will play the part of Immortal Solene in our little game. You and I? We will compete to capture her. Just outside the castle walls in the Vollen Forest. At sunset, the huntsman who has her captured wins. A perfect recreation of the Night Hunt.”

Sabine stiffens.

A protective instinct roars up my throat. “Sabine? No—she plays no part in this. If it’s a competition, then it’s between you and me.”

I move a step closer to her, unable to stop myself. Her eyes flicker to me, rimmed with anxiety.

“Oh, relax, human.” Artain scoffs, absently tossing back his hair. He slides the arrow back into his quiver. “It’s a game, not an execution. We catch Lady Sabine with our bare hands. The little mortal princess won’t be so much as bruised, you have my word. In fact, we’ll say that the competitors can’t seriously harm each other, either, during the game.”

My heart takes on an unsteady rhythm as I glance at Sabine.

“It’ll be okay, Basten,” she murmurs reassuringly.

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