Page 50 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Already, Immortal Iyre walks amongst us, and look at all the trouble that has caused. She stole Basten’s memories. Destroyed happiness for both of us. Her awakening has sparked unease across two kingdoms.

And now there will betwowoken fae?

What’s worse, Immortal Thracia’s affinity is healing. That might sound like a blessing, yet, in the last Return, she used that affinity to make her acolytes nearly invincible. If my father wakes Thracia with his godkiss, and she aids his army, then Volkany’s soldiers will be undefeatable.

Astagnon will be decimated.

Another maid rushes up. Bouncing with excitement, she spares a perfunctory bow for me. Then, she grabs the firstmaid’s hand. “King Rachillon has ordered a party tonight to celebrate the discovery of Thracia’s resting place!”

“Ooh!” The first maid claps excitedly.

I glance out the window. From the point of the Stormwatch Tower where my bedroom is located, I can look down into both the kitchen garden, to the right, and the entry court, to the left. Messengers pour out of the castle to spread the news. The kitchen garden buzzes with servants gathering marigolds for garlands while a goatherd leads a beautiful white goat toward the castle.

My stomach sours, thinking of The Sacrifice of the Golden Child, and that poor goat’s fate.

“We’ll dress you so beautifully, Highness,” the first maid says. “We can weave marigolds into your braid and fix your golden ear-tips to your ears?—”

“Right,” I hedge, thinking fast. For the past few days, I’ve always been closely watched. Expected to be in either my bedroom or dining at the head table with my father, Iyre, and the Blades.

This is the first time there’s been a…distraction.

I clear my throat. “The thing is, I’m not feeling well. Volkish food is a lot heavier than I’m used to.” I give a weak laugh as I press a hand to my belly. “That gravy last night got the better of me. The last thing I want is to be sick all over Immortal Thracia’s altar. I’d better spend the evening alone in my room. Please extend my apologies to my father.”

The second maid leans in with a knowing look and intimates, “That gravy always makes me sick, too.”

I paste on a smile until the moment I can close the door. As my smile instantly falls, I drag the desk chair over to hook under the doorknob.

My father made a mistake by draping my chambers in riches. Maybe in another life, I’d be charmed by the crystal wall sconces that paint the walls with bursts of light, or the gilded jewelry box, or the priceless books lined up on the mantel.

But I’m a girl who grew up sleeping in straw. Jewels only matter now for how much I could sell them to bribe my way to Astagnon.

To Basten.

I stuff handfuls of the jewels and a few other belongings into a satin handkerchief, then drop to hands and knees in front of the wardrobe.

Little mouse,I whisper.I need to get out of the castle unnoticed. Tonight. Once the party is in full swing. Didn’t you say there is a crawlspace between the floors?

Her nose pokes out, whiskers twitching.We mice use it as a passageway. I think it is large enough for a small human to fit.

Show me.I glance back at the door, beyond which comes the sound of more excited maids skipping downstairs.

The mouse leads me to the cold fireplace, where a metal grate is set into the floor with an ash box beneath for collecting ashes.

Lift the grate,the mouse commands.The boards are rotted out beneath it. See?

Sweating, I hook my fingers in the heavy grate and hoist it onto the rug. The sunken ash box is about two feet wide, two feet long, and nine inches deep. I plunge my hand into the downy ashes, coughing as they clot in the air, and feel for the back of the box.

Sure enough, the wooden board there is almost rottedout. All it takes is a few hits with the metal ash scoop to break it the rest of the way.

And that’s it. My path to freedom.

I stare into that darkness with a brick sitting in my stomach. In a way that defies logic, I don’t want to leave. I want to give my father a chance. Rachillon has shown me nothing but generosity since I arrived at Drahallen Hall. Even bringing me here against my will could be considered a form of kindness: Returning me to the home—the life—and the family that should have been my birthright.

Is it madness to let Basten drive me away from the only true family I have? Basten doesn’t even remember me.

But I remember him.

He is worth every ounce of my courage. If I have to become his sword and shield, without him even knowing who I am, then so be it—I’ll fight to be the one who saves him.

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