Page 52 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

My heart clenches with a punishing wish to see Myst again. It’s hard to believe my brave girl was once a carriage horse in this very castle’s stable. She became so much more, first to my mother and then to me.

My best—my only—friend for years.

Until I met Basten.

My chest tightens with longing. Against all odds, we found each other at our lowest. Made our own fae tale come true. Only, the fae had nothing to do with it. It was our own doing—our messy, imperfect human love.

And I will not let Rian hurt him.

Somewhere across the seven kingdoms, there must be a godkissed healer who can mend fractured minds. Or a potion powerful enough to revive lost memories…

My nightdress snags on a nail, and I give it a sharp tug, but it holds fast.

Grimacing, I tug harder. The movement makes the boards creak beneath me. I can hear the party more clearly here, the sound of laughter filtering up from the floorboards.

What time is it? Midnight? The festivities will go on until dawn if I’m lucky. In my mind’s eyes, I imagine dancing couples circling an altar dripping with riches that will only rot and waste away in a sleeping goddess’s honor.

I pull harder on my nightdress, muttering a curse, but the fabric lodges deeper onto the nail.

“By the gods!” I kick my bare foot against the nearest joist, and as the fabric finally rips free, the joist creaks.

The boards beneath me buckle?—

—and I don’t have time to grab something to hold onto.

With one ear-splitting crack, the floorboards break.

The mouse was right that the crawlspace could fit a person’s size.

But not weight.

Mouse-talker!The forest mouse sprints back toward me, tiny paw outstretched as though somehow she could stop the inevitable from happening.

It’s too late.

I get one final glimpse at her black-bead eyes filled with fear before I feel the ground fall out from under me.

Chapter 15

Basten

“Fight back,” a voice warns, “and it’ll be a knife across your throat.”

After dragging me across half of Old Coros, my attackers slam me into a chair and wrench my hands behind my back to secure with ropes. The oil-soaked, padded sack they’ve thrown over my head assaults my senses until my throat burns and my eyes water. I can’t pick up on a single fucking smell beyond it. Can’t see a damn thing. Can’t hear much, either.

I shift in the chair as much as I can to try to pick up on clues—feeling with my boots for what type of floor is beneath me, rubbing my elbows on the armrests to detect the chair’s style. Carved grooves would mean my abductors are wealthy, unsanded wood would mean bandits.

One of the attackers brushes against my left leg, and I use the opportunity to jam my knee straight up into his groin.

A muffled curse reaches my ears, and I smile darkly to myself before he smacks the back of my head.

With a sudden tug, the sack is pulled off my head.

“Fucking hell, Wolf!” the man behind me says. “I might want children one day!”

At first, the sting of light crashes over me. My senses are drowning, too many sights and sounds all at once. I’m in a house. Wait—scratch that. Whatwasa house. The walls are covered in soot, and half the furniture is charred. The whole place reeks of smoke so gods-damn badly that I can barely pick up on the old scents of fresh-baked bread, rosewater, mint tea—what remains of a family that once lived here.

“Folke.You bastard.” I recognize his voice instantly and whip my head around, trying to see my so-called friend over my shoulder. “What the fuck is this?”

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