Page 66 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

I’m not Sabine Darrow.

I can’t speak to Tòrr.

Hell, I can’t even speak toMystto tell Tòrr to get his preening ass in gear. For all I know, the second I throw open his iron door, Tòrr will roast me like a sausage.

Sweat trickles down my face, but I tighten my fist on the door handle.

“Stand back.”

It’s all the warning I give before throwing open the monoceros cage. Folke raises his hand as though to shelter himself. At first, nothing emerges from the darkness inside, but then, my eyes switch to night vision, and I see a burst of steam. A cool fog rolls out of the monoceros cage, winding around my ankles.

Folke jumps back, touching his breastbone in prayer to the gods he doesn’t believe in. “Shall I start digging our graves now, or later?”

Hoofbeats paw at the cage’s iron floor.

Another burst of steam shoots outof the box.

A shriek like twisting metal pierces the shadows.

Myst, quiet until now, stamps her foot as if to say,Stop being dramatic!

One final, smaller burst of steam puffs out, and then Tòrr ducks his head to emerge from the iron cage.

I retreat a step, muscles tense and at the ready, before realizing Folke still holds my hunting knife. I snatch it out of his hand. But as Tòrr steps into the stable to raise his head to its full height, his solarium horn nearly brushing the ceiling, I dare to lower the blade.

Ten seconds in, and I haven’t been smote.Yet.

That has to be a good sign, right?

Wrong.

Tòrr stomps up to me and plants an iron hoof directly on my boot.

“Ow!Fuck!” I slide my foot out and cradle it as I hop on my good leg. That’s at least one broken toe.

Wincing, I turn to Myst and motion to Tòrr with the knife hilt. “You better convince this asshole that I’m on his side! This was your idea!”

Her ears swing forward. She looks between Tòrr and me, then nips him on the neck.

He snorts defensively.

I put some weight on my boot, relieved that he only shattered one bone instead of my entire foot. “Ferra.” I bend my fingers to motion her forward. “I won’t get a mile traveling with a monoceros. Can you alter his appearance to pass for a regular horse?”

“Oh, let me consult my guide to my power…I don’t know! I’ve never worked on an animal before. Especially not a fae one.”

I glance toward the stable door. “Will you try?”

She mutters under her breath as she plucks anxiously at the ruffles of her gown, tiptoeing close enough to cautiously run her fingers along Tòrr’s neck. When he doesn’t immediately sink his teeth into her shoulder, she takes a steadying breath.

“I’d better not lose any toes, Wolf. And even if this works, I have no idea if he’ll maintain his fae powers in the glamour.” She works cautiously, knitting her fingers through Tòrr’s mane so that the metallic strands come away a dull, coarse black.

She delicately puffs air into each of his eyes, and when he blinks, his red-tinged irises fade to a walnut brown.

For the final task, she runs her palms over every plane of Tòrr’s body as though wiping away dust, and when she stands back to admire her handiwork, he’s shrunk at least a foot in height.

He’s still the biggest damn horse I’ve ever seen—but at least he looks like ahorse.

I give a low whistle. “I see why the Valveres pay you so much.”

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