Page 85 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Like a wound clock, my heart suddenly lurches back to astart. Breath rushes down my throat. Time hurtles back into motion.

I jolt forward, but the sword blade presses against my neck. Holding out my hands in surrender, I bark, “I want to see King Rachillon.”

The captain presses her sword harder against my throat. “Oh, you’ll see the king. It’s straight to the gallows for any normal bandit, but one who travels with a monoceros? Who kills royal soldiers? Who bears King Rian’s crest? You’ll get a royal audience, I assure you. I’d wager that His Majesty will even do the honor of personally slitting your throat.”

Nearby, the revived soldiers loop a rope around Myst’s neck. Tòrr strains against the iron collar, but six heavyset soldiers hold him back with attached chains.

The moon hangs high overhead—his solarium horn is powerless until dawn.

I glance back at the captain. “You’re godkissed. So is she.” My eyes shift to the woman in the indigo cloak.

“And?” The captain’s tone is sharp.

“I’m godkissed too,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Yet your time-stopping spell worked on me.”

“It works on who I want it to work on.” She removes the sword from against my neck but shoves the hilt into my solar plexus instead. “Even a monoceros.”

Pain rips through my middle. As I double over, I pat the outside of my pocket to make sure I haven’t lost Rian’s locket with the portrait of Sabine.

“King Rachillon.” I dig the heel of my palm against my aching chest. “Does he…have…a daughter?”

True surprise crosses the army captain’s face. Genuinely curious, she wrinkles her brow. “What do you know of the king’s daughter?”

I thrust out my wrists to be bound. “Chain me. Tie me up. String me along on the back of that goldenclaw. I won’t fight. Hell, I’ll even hunt rabbits for your dinner. If you take me to Sabine Darrow, then I will bow before any god, man, or woman you like.”

Chapter 24

Sabine

Show the gods that they’re not the only ones with domain over this world.

As night gives way to the first light of dawn, I stand beneath the Hall of Vale’s newly repaired crystal chandelier with every eye on me.

My mind reels. My lungs seize. To be frank, I shouldn’t have had so much wine.

But here I am.

“They’regods,” I state, swaying slightly. “I can’t compete with them.”

Woudix’s acolyte, Arden, claps her hands in delight. “Oh, Highness, try! Just because a human hasn’t ever competed in fae trials doesn’t mean one can’t now!”

Samaur’s twins pound on a table in unison. “Here, here!”

Well—this is new. Being cheered on to win. The humans at Drahallen Hall may live in the shadow of five fae gods, but they clearly enjoy seeing their masters knocked down a peg.

Still, I’m not keen to humiliate myself.

I raise my glass to the gods in surrender. “Maybe next time.”

But the courtiers smell blood in the water. “Winged Lady! Winged Lady!”

“Where did they even hear that name?” I murmur aloud.

Artain rests his hand on my shoulder. “Word spreads, princess. We’ve all heard one version or another of the Winged Lady’s attack in Duren’s arena. Go ahead, give us a taste of that vicious godkissed power of yours.”

I shrug out from under his hand, rolling my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

He scoffs, “What’s the matter? Does our power intimidate you?” A wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “Or are you not curious about the winner’s prize?”

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