Page 150 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

We head to the stable, where Myst is already saddled along with a chestnut horse named Ranger for Basten, their saddlebags stuffed to the brim with hard cheeses and rolls that the kitchen insisted on packing for our journey.

“Soon, pretty girl.” I rest my head on Myst’s forehead as she stamps her restless hooves. “Just a few more goodbyes.”

It takes ten soldiers to slide open the bolt on Tòrr’s palatial stall door. Guards armed with broadswords flank me on each side, but I roll my eyes and wave them away as I step into the cool darkness.

A single, round glass lantern hangs from a high hook like the moon—just as Tòrr likes it.

He snorts a burst of steam.You’re late. Thought you were not coming.

And miss your complaining? Never.I smile a little sadly as I tweak his bottom lip.

I’m going to miss the big lug, but at least I know he’s well cared for here. Since he arrived, he’s filled out to the size of a tank, his glossy black fur taking on a new, healthy sheen. Rian never understood how to properly take care of a monoceros, but here, at the seat of the fae court, he’s treated as a prince.

This isn’t goodbye forever.I press my forehead against his.We have an alliance with my father. Once Basten is on the Astagnonian throne, I’ll convince my father that we need you with us.

A nervous flutter kicks up in my stomach. For all my promises to Tòrr, if I’ve learned one thing here, it’s how fickle the fae are. Yes, we have an alliance…but for how long?

Tòrr blows a gentler snort that ruffles my hair.The least you could do is leave Myst with me.

I run my fingers through his long mane.You’ll have to woo a new girlfriend.

After a kiss on his nose, then a tour through the goldenclaw stable to play one final round of riddles—and a catch in my throat at Two’s empty stall—Basten and I head back inside Drahallen Hall to speak to my father.

The Hall of Vale looks strange in the light of day, with all the curtains wide open, the tables pushed back. I’ve never seen it so bright. Empty like this, it feels almost reverent.

Our footsteps echo as we approach the head table where my father sits with Iyre, Samaur, Woudix, and a wan-looking Artain.

My feet drift to a stop.

For the first time, I realize that there are ten seats along the length of the head table. With a jolt, I think: It was never meant as a dining table. It’s an altar for the full court.

Now, with only five of the ten places filled, it looks like a harmless enough scene, but it makes my stomach turn to think of how powerful the court will be if—when—all ten seats are taken.

I bow to my father, then squeeze Basten’s hand for him to do the same. Which he does—lukewarmly.

“We’re packed,” I say as I rise, my voice echoing tinnily in the large space. “If we leave now, Basten says we’ll reach the border by Wednesday at nightfall.”

All five fae wear their human glamour, yetthere’s something so otherworldly about my father, even in that form, that my stomach tightens.

Painfully slowly, he pushes back his chair. The legs groan against the stone floor. In slow, measured steps, he walks around the table to stand before us.

Time ticks impossibly slowly as he stares.

I squeeze Basten’s hand so hard that I’m sure both our knuckles blanch.

“I wish you’d reconsider taking Captain Tatarin and her soldiers,” my father finally rasps. “For safety.”

My shoulders ease, and only then do I realize how tightly I was bracing them. I glance at Basten with a quick smile. “We can travel faster and more unnoticed if it’s just us.”

Basten nods but doesn’t match my smile. I can feel his pulse thrumming in his fingers with such impatience that I know he won’t smile again until we’re miles from these walls.

“I suppose the time has come, then.” To my surprise, my father extends his arms.

For a…hug?

I hate that my first instinct is doubt, but could anyone blame me?

I start to step forward, and Basten bristles, clenching his hand to hold me back.

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