Page 27 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Tati frowns. “Pardon, Highness?”

I shake my head as I stutter, “N—nothing.”

The Blade Boys, as Tati calls them, dismount and call for water and wine, which are promptly delivered. They banter with one another, swapping mischievous smiles, commanding the soldiers with effortless confidence.

Ugh, they remind me of Rian.

Iyre strides up to the trio with a sneer. “Boys. What do you thinkyou’redoing here?”

The tall one called Whisper barely spares her a glance, even though she’s a goddess and he’s a mere mortal. “KingRachillon commanded us to escort his daughter the final stretch to Norhelm.”

Iyre narrows her eyes. “I am perfectly capable of?—”

“Is this her?” The blonde one—Ghost—with shoulders as broad as an archer’s bow stalks toward me with a gleam in his green eyes. He’s walking arrogance. I don’t think that smirk has left his face for a second.

I fold my arms tightly across my chest, chin tipped up casually as though I’m unbothered.

Ghost slowly circles me with an appraising eye. “Mmm,” he purrs pensively, letting his eyes travel down my body. “She’scertainly worth the hunt.”

I bristle and hug my arms tighter.

Whisper smooths a hand over his dreaded locks as he grins wolfishly. “Brighter than the sun itself.”

Night—the one with raven hair and clouded eyes—stalks forward with his sleek hound pressed unwaveringly against his left side. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He’s blind.The realization slams into me with a touch of confusion. One of King Rachillon’s most trusted bodyguards lacks sight?

“May I, Highness?” Night slowly removes one of his black leather gloves, one finger at a time, and flexes his pale hand in the air between us.

It takes me a moment to realize what he means.

“Oh. Um…I suppose so.”

His hound leads him forward until he’s half a step away. Hesitantly, I take his wrist and guide his fingers to touch my face. His skin is so cold that I shiver on instinct. His fingers are rough and calloused yet as finely wrought as a sculptor’s.

He skims his fingers over the contoursof my face, reading my features with a touch that’s somehow both respectful and scandalously intimate.

He lowers his head in a bow. “Lady Sabine. Beautiful as ever.”

“As ever?” I blurt out.

“We’ve been told of your beauty,” Night clarifies. “By the raiders who witnessed your battle in Duren’s arena.”

My muscles tense, unwilling to unwind, as Ghost circles me again while running his thumb over his bottom lip. “What I would do for one night alone with this one.”

“Easy now,” Whisper teases. “You’re drooling, Ghost. If you want fresh meat, visit the cooks at Drahallen Hall, not the king’s daughter’s bed chamber.”

I choke at these men’s gall.

My cheeks flare red as I spit out, “Bold of you to think I won’t slit your throat if you even dare a step toward my bed.” I hold up my hand with Basten’s twine ring on my fourth finger. “In any case, I’m already called for.”

I expect them to beg my pardon, but instead, all three chuckle. Ghost leans close to the raven-haired Night to explain the twine on my finger.

“I’m serious!” I announce. “Laugh if you want, but whether the ring is of twine or gold, I’m engaged to Basten Bowborn of Duren!”

“Highness, forgive us,” Ghost says, sobering quickly, though a hint of mockery still dances in his eyes. “We do not laugh atyou.”

“Indeed,” Whisper adds. “We laugh at Immortal Alessantha, who was so cruel as to make you believe this love of yours was real.”

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