Page 149 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

I nod.

It kills me to see her nervous about what should be a good thing. So I try to stoke some confidence in the both of us as I cup her cheek and give a smile. “Hey. You and me? We beat the gods. We can sure as hell beat Rian Valvere.”

She smiles back at me, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “NowthatI’m looking forward to.”

The jesting slowly bleeds off her face, and a strange distance settles into her eyes. Coldly, she murmurs, “I’m looking forward to punishing everyone who wronged me.”

The hair on the back of my neck lifts at the strange tone in her voice. But if anyone’s earned some good, solid revenge, it’s her. And I’ll happily be the sword and knife and arrow at her side, if she wants me to be.

She snaps back into the present, a renewed light in her eyes as she squeezes my hand. “Tomorrow.”

I nod. “Tomorrow, then, little violet.”

We lay in bed, holding one another until the sun sets outside. I can’t help but feel that we’re juggling the same silent hopes and fears. I’ve seen what can happen between one day and the next. The world can turn on its axis.

We may think we’re free now—but the gods may have one last trick up their sleeves.

Chapter 40

Sabine

Freedom is a strange thing.

When I was in the convent, I used to climb the tallest yew tree to look over the stone walls at the distant mountains. The wind would blow through my hair, whooshing against my cheeks, calling to me with the promise of freedom. From those branches, I would watch the townspeople go about their day. The old shepherd herding his flock to the stream. Boys and girls dragging their feet to church. The butcher making his deliveries.

At any moment, any of them could have left.

They could have dropped their shepherd’s crooks and never come back.

Even gone to Salensa to see the ocean.

But no one ever did, even though I know the wind whispered to them, too. Their bodies weren’t locked behind stone walls, but their minds were. It’s simply human nature. We stay where we were born. We follow our parents’ footsteps. We do as the gods tell us.

But now, as I stand in my bedroom high in the Stormwatch Tower with the wind blowing through the open window, I whisper back to it:

I’ll go where I want this time.

“Are you ready?”

I turn toward Basten in the doorway. He has a knapsack slung over one shoulder, his bow and quivers around the other. He wears black travel clothes, but they’re much finer than the cotton ones he used to wear. These have black embroidery at the cuffs and collars and are tailored to fit his broad shoulders to perfection.

His hair is loose. Freshly washed. He’s actuallyshaved. To see him like this, I can’t help but think I’m looking at a true king.

I rest my arm on the windowsill so the forest mouse can scamper up my sleeve and settle under my collar. I’ve sewn loops for it to hold onto—it will be a long journey, after all.

Then, I take one last look at my bedroom.

The twisting, living vines no longer look strange to me. To be honest, I can’t imagine ever living in a place without nature bursting through the walls. Drahallen Hall is a place of contradictions: broken but beautiful, ancient but novel, haunting yet serene.

I place my hand in Basten’s. “Ready.”

We take our time descending the central stairs as I wonder when—if—I’ll ever see the intricate carvings again. My maids wait in a line at the bottom of the stairs to bow to me in turn. The last one drapes a fur stole over my shoulders.

“Autumn can bring a brutal frost to these woods, Majesty. Best you stay warm.”

Plume floats up to nip at the stole, tail wagging. I pat the soft tufts of hair on her head with a smile.Don’t worry, little troublemaker. I’m taking you with me. A cloudfox sidekick can be immensely helpful in Old Coros.

She yips, floating in a pinwheel.

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