Page 140 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

I’ll burneverything.

Tòrr stomps, releasing a burst of steam from his nostrils. This time, when I reach into his mind, he doesn’t resist likethe other animals did. Instead, I’m greeted by a flicker of red-hot glee—he’s just as bloodthirsty as I am.

“Tòrr.” I speak the name that holds so much power.

We’re going to push each other to lose control. I can feel it. I’m ready. He’s ready. Ready to end it…

“Stop!” Samaur’s golden eyes sizzle as he extends his hands wide, muscles so tensed the veins in his arms pop out.

My heart skyrockets to my throat, and for a second, my rage falters. Will he…will he do it?

One clap. That’s all it takes.

“Stop,” he seethes, “And I’ll give you what you want.”

“Like hell, you will!” Artain lowers his arrow an inch but keeps the bow drawn, ready to fire. “If you turn day to dusk, I lose the game.”

“So? I’m not losing Thracia for your stupid game!” Samaur yells. “You want to toy with mortals, fine. Risk your own damn neck—not ours.”

He jerks his head toward Woudix and Iyre, who are both still braced to aim their fey against Tòrr if he tries to use his solarium horn.

“This is all about your fucking ego, anyway,” Samaur spits at Artain. “About sticking it to Vale by tricking his daughter into being your plaything. In a fae bargain that he can’t do a thing to break. It’shimyou want to play against, isn’t it? Not this human. Not her. You’re only using them to get to Vale.”

A muscle bulges in the side of Artain’s jaw. “Vale will thank me when I win, and Sabine is bound to Volkany. To me.”

“Oh, get over yourself!” Samaur yells.

His palms connect. Like a crash of thunder, the clap reverberates with a ground-shaking burst of orange-gold fey.

I drop low, clinging protectively to Basten’s arm. The sky immediately darkens. Purple shadows stretch across the mountains. The temperature drops. Birdsong stops. A confused rabbit darts out of the bushes and into its den. The sun streaks across the sky like a shooting star to sink below the horizon.

In the west, the last shard of the sun’s orb vanishes behind the mountains.

“Dusk,” I whisper in disbelief.

It’s real. It happened.

More confused shouts come from the castle’s direction. First, there were the explosions. Now, dusk has come hours early. Courtiers and servants alike must think the world is ending.

A soldier runs up to the shattered gate, taking in the scene with wide eyes, and I call, “Fetch a godkissed healer. Lord Basten needs help!”

None of the fae attempt to stop the soldier as he unsteadily runs back into the castle. They’re all focused on me, not the man bleeding out at their feet.

“It’s over now.” I push to a stand, wiping Basten’s blood onto my shirt as I stare at Artain, daring him to challenge me. “It’s dusk. The game is over.”

“It’s not fucking over,” he snaps.

“Youset the terms.” I speak measuredly because one wrong word with these tricky assholes, and they’ll twist it. “The game ends at dusk. Natural dusk or not, it’s still dusk. You didn’t catch me. Neither did Basten. I evaded both of you until the end. We have an unbreakable bargain.”

Artain lets his bowstring slacken, though he keeps the handle clutched with white knuckles. He takes the arrow in his other hand, squeezing the shaft so hard I can’t believe it doesn’t shatter.

“She has you there, brother,” Woudix states quietly.

“Fine.” Artain’s pretty features are twisted now, ugly. “So, it’s a draw. That’s what all this was for? A fucking draw? That’s what you and your fae monster want?”

He jabs the arrow in Tòrr’s direction, and the monoceros responds by lowering his horn like a battering ram. Now, post-dusk, he can’t harness his horn’s solarium, but I’d bet a hundred coins that no fae could survive a monoceros horn through the heart.

Artain wants to rattle me, but he can’t. Keeping my shoulders squared, I press on. “We agreed to a coin toss if the game ended in a draw.”

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