Page 43 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Folke?

I spot the man in question swaying drunkenly on the dance floor, his face buried in Ferra’s ample chest, much to the affront of the elegant Corosian ladies watching.

I’ve been friends with Folke long enough to know that he can sober up quickly. One word from Rian, and he’d bestalking the shadows as the best spy in the city within the hour.

But seeing him lovingly tuck a strand of Ferra’s hair back does something to my damn hardened heart.

For a second, I almost remember what it was like to love someone?—

Before those thoughts drift too far, I cross my arms over my chest, staring at the dark city beyond the banquet hall’s glass windows, shifting as the First Sword pin once more jabs me in the chest.

“I’ll do it,” I repeat, and then add, “I miss getting my hands dirty.”

Chapter 12

Sabine

“That gods-damnedbastard!”

I storm out of Drahallen Hall with all the force of a hurricane, angry tears leaking out of the corner of my eyes, the world spinning in a dizzying blur that keeps me from knowing up from down.

Overhead, the stars are pinpricks against the night sky, glittering like the jewels that drip from every surface of Rian Valvere’s home. Long grass tangles around my shoes, streaking them with gossamer-silk spiderwebs and midnight dew. The air holds a smoky, herbal scent. I catch myself on the back of a wrought-iron garden bench, doubling over to try to fill my screaming lungs with air.

The man who sold you out was Rian Valvere.

My corset pinches my lungs to the point where I can’t breathe. Its obsidian jewels may be beautiful, but they’re beyond restrictive. I tug at the crimson ribbons holding the corseted top together until they finally loosen.

The tops of my breasts spring free. Clinging to the bench for support, I pull in breath after shaky breath.

“Highness? Are you all right?”

I toss my head up, all too aware of my mussed hair and tear-streaked face, to find Captain Tatarin exiting a gate, concern written in her dark brown eyes. She reaches a steadying hand toward me, but I straighten quickly, tugging my dress to smooth out the wrinkles.

“Oh. Tati. It’s you.”

Her eyes go wide. “Highness, you’re crying! What happened? Shall I call for the healer?”

“No!” I press a hand against the loosened corset. “Please, don’t. I only need... I only need… Oh, damn it all! I need a noose around Rian Valvere’sthroat!”

Tati hesitates, glancing back toward the castle. But instead of calling for the guards, she unwinds the maroon scarf around her neck and presses it into my hands.

I nod a shaky thanks as I use the scarf to dry my eyes.

Tati tuts in sympathy. “Rian Valvere, eh? I…think I can guess why you want to throttle that particular man.”

I nearly drop her scarf in surprise. “You do?”

She clears her throat. “I hope you do not hold this against me, Highness, but I was the one who met with Rian Valvere at the border several weeks ago to make the deal.”

Under normal circumstances, such information would have me bolting upright and demanding answers. But with my heart already contorted in knots, I only narrow my eyes.

“Tell me everything.”

Tati keeps her voice low. “We had positioned Grand Cleric Beneveto to take over after King Joruun’s passing so that we would have an ally on Astagnon’s throne. Beneveto had been working with us for well over a year as a clandestine agent. Whatever your father asked of him, he would have his Red Priests and Red Sisters do. But then, RianValvere sent a messenger crow with a compelling offer. If King Rachillon would help put him on the throne instead of Beneveto, he would give up your location. Your father ordered Beneveto to rescind his claim.”

My fingers curl hard around the garden bench. “I thought—I thought that in his own way, Rian loved me.” I gaze up at the soft, twinkling lights in Drahallen Hall’s windows. “I think, maybe, I’ve been wrong this entire time about who my enemy is.”

Tati rests a soft hand on my shoulder.

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