Page 36 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Swallowing, I nod for him to lead the way.

As we move through Drahallen Hall, I can’t help but be begrudgingly curious. The stone walls are chiseled with the ten fae symbols. Servants pass in fine, glittering uniforms with asymmetrical hemlines. Tapestries hang in the stairwell with portrayals of the stories from the Book of the Immortals:

One shows the Night Hunt, with Artain chasing Solene disguised as a doe.

Another shows Aria and Aron, the fated mates who Alessantha brought together.

A third shows Meric’s cursed prisoners wandering the Labyrinth of Justice.

“Volkany is blessed under your father’s rule.” Beneveto’s irritation at me seems to have mellowed by the time we reach the third floor. He motions to a young servant boy carrying firewood to the upper bedrooms. “King Rachillon is ushering in a grand new era. That boy, for example, will live to witness the Third Return of the Fae.”

I mumble a vague answer, not wanting to voice what I truly think: that the poor boy will be nothing but a plaything to the fae.

Like all of us.

A pretty young noblewoman, dressed in a midnight blue gown and wearing silver ear peaks, nods politely to theGrand Cleric as we pass. A godkissed birthmark winks on her russet brown skin above her breastbone. She extends a hand toward an unlit candle, and a flame springs to life at her fingertips.

“Good day, Grand Cleric,” she says with a heavy Kravadan accent.

I glance back over my shoulder to watch her continue down the row of candles, lighting each one for the evening with her godkiss.

“She is Kravadan?” I ask.

“You will find that many residents and servants in Drahallen Hall come from across the seven kingdoms. It stems from your father’s efforts to locate the sleeping fae. He requires ample godkissed people to search for their eternal resting places.”

My stomach cinches. “You mean they’ve been kidnapped and forced to serve him. Like the godkissed people who went missing from Astagnon.”

Beneveto doesn’t blink at the accusation. “Many were brought here forcibly, yes, but you’ll find that few wish to return to their homelands. Moreover, most are pleased to have been given the opportunity for a better life. That noble lady we passed lighting candles? Lady Caelena? She was a slave girl to a desert warlord. King Rachillon’s fleet of godkissed searchers freed her, brought her here, and your father rewarded her contribution to Volkany with a title.”

I press my lips together, not wanting to give voice to the doubts in my head. Tati assured me that I was wrong about Volkany being a cursed kingdom. Every instinct in my body bristles against accepting that, but can I deny the evidence I’ve seen with my own eyes? The prosperous villages? A thriving city? A castle filled with people whocelebrate the fae as gods, not monsters? Then again, could there be greater proof of their evil than Iyre?

Beneveto stops at a gilded doorway guarded by a soldier in iron armor. “Here is where I shall take my leave for the time being. Your father awaits within.”

He nods curtly before he leaves me.

My stomach shrinks as I face the soldier, who towers over me a full head taller. Silently, he opens the door.

My feet don’t seem to want to move. My hands smooth over my bodice, working out nonexistent wrinkles. My father is beyond this door. Not Charlin Darrow, the drunken lord who locked me away in a convent.

My real father.

I force myself to take a step inside. The room is windowless and dark, making it nearly impossible to judge the size. At first glance, it could be a closet or a cathedral.

My eyes adjust to the darkness, picking up the glow of low lights from the walls. There’s something strange about the lights. They don’t flicker like candles.

I cautiously approach one, my shoes padding softly on the stone floor. Surprisingly, the glow comes from phosphorescent plants set in wall sconces.

When my eyes fully adjust, I find myself in a room of waist-height marble pedestals, each one illuminated by glowing plants. An enormous glass water tank is set into the far wall. Fanciful glowing fish swim within, their dorsal spots radiating impossible colors.

I seem to be alone, so I step cautiously to the first pedestal, which holds the long iron needle that Iyre used to cut a portal from Astagnon to Volkany. I glance over my shoulder before snatching it up and poking at the air like she did—but all that happens is I accidentally jab my finger.

I sigh.

No surprise—you have to be fae to use fae tools.

The next pedestal displays a leather-bound book locked in an iron chain, and the others contain a rusted horseshoe, a fisherman’s net, and a lasso woven from human hair, among others.

At the water tank, I tap gently to attract the attention of an eel-like fish with glowing fins, and gradually, I become aware of a pair of human eyes looking back at me from the other side.

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