Page 31 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Rian’s face remains as immovable as the castle’s limestone bricks. As innocuous as the welcome sounded, it was what the advisordidn’tsay that stings.

Not one word about the Valvere family name. No praise for Rian’s integrity. Not a mention of wisdom, valor, or compassion.

“All they care about,” I overhear a soldier whisper to the man next to him, “is that he has a monoceros.”

Damn, if I don’t smile to think of how Rian is going to show all these white-haired asses how a Valvere gets things done.

A valet bows deeply as he holds Colossus for Rian to dismount. The crowd at the castle’s steps—lords and ladies, dukes and counts—is noticeably better dressed, not to mention bettersmellingthan the ones we left in Duren. Here, it’s all rose oil and sandalwood, not the cow manure scent of the masses.

Whatever. They still piss in a pot.

Rian bows to the King’s Councilors, though not as deeply as is customary. I can hear his molars grinding in his jaw as he forces a proud smile. Until the crown rests on his head, he isn’t their king yet—he has to ingratiate himself.

“My deepest thanks,” he says steadily, casually resting one hand on his sword and closing each finger slowly around the hilt, which melts the smirks off their faces. “It is with great honor that I accept the role bestowed upon me by gods and men alike. I vow upon Immortal Popelin’s sacred chalice to serve the kingdom with honor.”

I roll my eyes before thinking better of it. Immortal Popelin might be his family’s patron god, but Popelin would sooner watch a kingdom burn just for the entertainment factor.

The travel party begin the arduous task of unpacking. While the bulk of Rian’s staff disperses to be assigned their new castle roles, the Golden Sentinels parade off to the royal barracks. The Valvere family and other courtiers are ushered into Hekkelveld Castle’s cavernous entryway.

Rian pauses at the grand brass double doors, which arecast with the twin city mottos of BRAVERY and FORTITUDE. Looking around, he hunts me out from the crowd and beckons.

“Wolf. Come.”

“Great,” I murmur under my breath. As First Sword, I can’t slink off to the barracks in peace.

Inside, the castle is blessedly cool after the midday heat. A round mosaic of a raven surrounded by olive branches is set into the floor. The foundation rocks are thousands of years old, so ancient that my heightened vision can pick out the fossils of tiny fae sea creatures trapped within the pressed siltstone.

Absently, I clasp the wrist guard over my left forearm, rubbing my thumb over the bandage’s soft edge.

A voice calls, “The Lord of Liars makes an oath, and we are to believe him?”

A ruggedly handsome man in royal armor and a silver chainmail sash descends the steps toward Rian. That sash marks him as Lord of the Iron Banner—the envoy bridging communication between the royal family and the kingdom’s army.

My hand goes instantly to my sword. Before the Lord of the Iron Banner comes to a halt, I sweep to Rian’s side and draw my weapon.

“You dare to insult the Rising King?” My voice cuts with the same promise as my sword. Glaring through my loose hair, I ready myself for a fight. I might have only been named First Sword a few days ago, but I’ve spent a lifetime defending Rian.

A metal ring echoes in the air as the royal guards flanking the entryway draw their swords.

Like a thunderclap, electricity sizzles in the air.

My ears pick up the agitated murmurs from the crowd of servants and King’s Councilmen, speculation about who the man is who dares to draw a weapon in Hekkelveld Castle’s Raven Hall.

“…they call him the Lone Wolf.”

“The one Immortal Iyre robbed of memory.”

“He’s spent a lifetime at the Rising King’s side…”

The Lord of the Iron Banner merely blinks, perfect calm. “No greater dare, I should think,” he says, “than drawing a sword in Raven Hall. This is sacred ground. Deemed by the late King Joruun to forever be a threshold of peace.”

“Well,” I point out, “Joruun is dead.”

Rian laughs, masking it with a cough, and rests his hand on my shoulder in a calming gesture. “Relax, Wolf. If one person in the world is allowed to insult the Rising King, it’s Kendan Valvere.”

Kendan Valvere?

I haven’t seen Rian’s eldest brother in fifteen years, not since he and Lord Berolt had such a violent disagreement that Kendan stormed out of Duren and never returned. Rian has met with Kendan over the years, when traveling or in Old Coros, but I wouldn’t have recognized him.

---