Page 65 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Satisfied she has my attention, she jerks her muzzle toward the far end of the stable.

A chill creeps over the back of my neck. There, in the shadows of what was once a tack room, rests the iron cage that houses Tòrr.

My stomach tightens.

“Crazy mare…” But I rub my hand over my chin, thinking. Half a dozen heavy locks are fixed to a chain spanning the cage door’s handles. The iron material blocks my sense of smell, but I can hear steady breathing inside.

“Wolf?” Folke pitches a hay biscuit at my head. “Time togo.”

Ignoring him, I take a slow step toward the cage.

“Wolf?” Ferra hisses. “What are you looking at? Wait.No. Have you lost your mind?” This time, she’s the one who throws a hay biscuit.

I dodge it, wetting my lips as I straighten. Slowly, I quote Rian: “When going to war, it’s wise to take one’s most powerful weapon.”

Ferra throws her hand toward one of the stable’s high windows. “It’s daylight! You open that cage, and Tòrr could snuff us out like ants under a magnifying glass!”

My heart kicks up with a warning.She isn’t wrong.

“Myst will manage him.” I smooth my hand over her leather saddle. “I’ve seen her calm his temper a hundred times. She wants Sabine back as much as I do, and she’ll make sure Tòrr cooperates. Besides, how else will I get Sabine away from King Rachillon? Or my memories back from Iyre? Ineeda weapon.”

“It’s a big fucking gamble to think you can tame a monoceros, my friend,” Folke croaks.

More footsteps cross through the Reliquary Garden. I’mout of time. I have only a second of hesitation before I set my shoulder beneath the wooden beam to hoist it up. Groaning under its weight, I free it from the braces and toss it to the ground.

“I suddenly find myself a gambling man.” I grab the first padlock, rattling it slightly. “Folke?”

“Wait. You wantmeto free the monster?”

“You can pick locks like you’re godkissed.”

Folke balks, rattling off curses, but I can see the spark in his eyes that draws him to the challenge. Finally, he waves me out of the way. “I need some space. And…this.”

He plucks the knife from my hip holster with a pickpocket’s grace. As I retreat to give him room, he sets the blade’s point into the keyhole. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he angles the blade until the lock springs free.

“Ha! See that? We mere mortals can work miracles, too.”

Ferra throws glances toward the end of the barn, keeping a lookout, while Folke picks the second lock.

“It’s almost too easy,” he scoffs.

He swiftly picks the third and the fourth locks. The fifth gives him some trouble, but he smacks the hilt of my knife against the side, and it springs free.

Only one left.

I focus all my senses on the ground, feeling for the vibrations of footsteps headed our way. From the growing rumble, it seems as though at least twenty soldiers are headed for the stable.

“Folke, hurry,” I mutter.

“And…you’re welcome!” Folke stands back triumphantly with the final lock in hand, bowing like an actor before an adoring audience.

“Congratulations,” I say flatly. “Now move aside.” I immediately begin unraveling the chain from between the door handles, though Folke rests a hand on mine.

He asks quietly, “Are you truly sure about this, old friend?”

A muscle jumps in my jaw. Am I? Setting free an ancient fae creature with the power to level an entire city is not a move to take lightly. I’ve heard the servants recount the tale of Sabine triumphantly riding the beast in Duren’s arena, though there’s only a blank in my mind where that memory should be.

Rian and Kendan both believed that because she discovered its name, anyone could harness its power. But they’re naive.

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