Page 22 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

A knot tightens in my stomach as I grip the door handle, peering through the wooden window lattice. Tati is pasturing Three and Four for the night, petting their thick metallic fur as she secures their iron collars to chains attached to the ground.

Suddenly, a streak of silver floats out from behind a leafy branch. When it spots me looking, it ducks back down.

The cloudfox.

We’ve traveled at least ten miles from the border wall. Is it following us?

Uneasy, I open the door and slip out into the fresh night air. There’s no sign of the cloudfox now, but the uneasy feeling in my gut tightens.

It feels like the strange magic of this kingdom has only begun to toy with me.

Chapter 7

Basten

The rain is relentless as I ride Dare, my roan gelding, to Sorsha Hall’s courtyard.

It’s a gods-damn circus.

A line of six carriages and fourteen wagons fills the space as footmen in rain-slick oil cloaks bind tarpaulins over the furniture, trunks, and other household goods the Valveres will need in Old Coros.

The journey to Old Coros takes six days in good weather, and already, my stomach grumbles to have to spend it in the midst of such fanfare.

Servants—drenched to the bone—hold wooden panels over the Valvere family members’ heads to protect them from the downpour as they take their places in the carriages. Lady Eleonora takes the first one with Serenith, Sorsha Hall’s Castlekeep, as her travel companion. Lord Gideon and Lady Runa take the second. The rest are filled with distant cousins and high lords who somehow managed to glom onto Rian’s favor enough to earn a place in his reign.

Lady Suri takes the final place in the last carriage, snagging my eye with a disapproving look.

She hoped not to see me here—that I’d be scouring the woods for Sabine.

I seem to disappoint everyone these days.

I swallow a lump in my throat as I absently rub the wrist guard strapped to my left forearm. The leather panel does a good job of hiding the bandages. Not that anyone would bat an eye at a bandage, anyway—I spent years as a soldier and a huntsman.

Still, I prefer it to be secret. A wrapped present only for my eyes. Aname. A name that, now that it’s carved into my skin, is also locked into my memory.

A clatter of metal like a tin drum makes everyone turn. The last wagon, the largest and strongest, which is usually reserved for transporting army cannons, holds an enclosed iron cage that’s ten feet long and nearly as high. There isn’t a single window or bar, only a door secured with a staggering number of locks.

Another metal crash rattles my teeth as the whole box shakes.

Captain Fernsby shouts the command, “Add an extra set of chains!”

Dare dances beneath me, nervous; his nostrils scent the air. Almost nothing spooks him, which is why he’s my choice of mount from the Valvere stable. A huntsman needs a ride with confident footing.

But the thing inside that iron cage has Dare writhing like a snake scenting a fox. And it doesn’t take a genius to guess what it is.

“What are you fucking thinking, Rian?” I murmur under my breath.

To my surprise, an answer comes.

“When going to war,” Rian’s deep voice says from behind me, “It’s wise to take one’s most powerful weapon, wouldn’t you agree?”

Rain forms rivulets down his black wool riding cloak as he sits astride his horse, Colossus.

I shift in my saddle, hiding my surprise that he’s out in the rain instead of with the other Valveres in gilded carriages.

Recovering fast, I point out, “Unless that weapon is a fucking monster.”

The monoceros in the box, Tòrr, is twice the size of even the largest Valvere stallion and meaner than one of Rian’s caged tigers. Its three-foot-long horn made of pure solarium can harness sunlight to incinerate an entire city to the ground.

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