Page 64 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Ferra scoffs as her fingers fly to put the dress over her shoulders. “I am no one’s duck.”

“Shut your quackery, my jewel,” he argues as he spins her around to do up the buttons on her gown’s back. “We can argue when we’re twenty miles from here, alive and eating plum cakes. Now, quick. You first, Wolf. Then Ferra. I’ll follow up behind.”

I grip the rope and throw one leg out the window. I have to fold myself into a knot to fit through the narrow wooden frame, but I manage, and then scale down Wisdom Tower, bracing my feet against the limestone bricks.

Ferra descends next, complaining loudly as she fumbles down the rope until she’s close enough that I can hoist her the rest of the way to the ground.

Folke crashes down the last six feet, still reeking of booze, but quickly recovers. He tosses his tangled hair off his face as he scans the oleander shrubs clustered around the headstones of the Reliquary Garden. “Where to now, you troublesome bastard?”

I jerk my chin toward Mercy Tower. “The stables.”

The three of us make our way among the marble mausoleums of Astagnon’s fallen kings. I listen keenly for the guards’ movements and instruct Folke and Ferra whento pause and when to run. We reach a low stone wall that runs along the side of the stables and drop into a crouch.

“We need to draw the guards away from the stables,” I say quietly.

“Drama? That’s my specialty.” Ferra’s violet eyes practically glow as she taps one long fingernail against my chest. “I have an idea. Come with me, boys.”

A row of tombstones stretches the length of the Reliquary Garden, lined up like dominoes waiting to fall. Without a word, Ferra presses her shoulder against the first stone. As it teeters, I begin to understand.

“Ferra, you aren’t going to—” I start.

“Not on my own, I’m not. Help me!”

Folke and I join her and lean hard against the tombstone. The heavy granite stone totters slightly before finally crashing over onto the next one. Like a row of children’s blocks, the headstones knock one another over all the way from the front gate to the castle wall.

Each tombstone crashes down with a ground-shaking thud that I feel down to my marrow.

Ferra claps excitedly. “That should do it!”

The stable guards shout at the sound and run to investigate.

Once the stable door is clear, the three of us make our way in a crouch along the stone wall, then duck inside. The cool, clean smell of straw replaces the stench of sweat and blood that clings to me.

I plunge my hand into my pocket to reassure myself of the locket with Sabine’s portrait. My chest softens as my fingers glide over the smooth gold surface. All I want in this cursed world is to open it to see her perfect face again, but I have to wait.

It’s torture.

It’s a thrill.

Is this even actually happening? Are my dreams going to become real? The idea that I might hold Sabine Darrow in my arms fills me with such breathtaking awe that I have to clear my throat.

Ferra glances back at me, concern etched in her eyes. “Basten? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough, so I clear my throat and try again, my gaze scanning the horse names chalked on each stall door. “It’s this one.”

Folke and Ferra fall in step behind me as I unlatch Myst’s stall door.

“Easy there, girl.” Even though time is of the essence, my voice drops to a low murmur as I slowly run a hand along Myst’s neck, fingers brushing over the spots rubbed raw by the carriage harness. Anger surges through me, hot and bitter, that a creature as powerful—and as stubborn—was ever reduced to pulling Rian’s carriage.

“You remember me, right?” I murmur. “The poor bastard you tried to trample? We’re getting out of this place to find Sabine.”

She tosses her head, eyes wide as if to say,You finally came to your senses!

The Valor Bell continues to clang the alarm as my ears pick up the creaking wheels of army wagons rolling in with extra soldiers from Old Coros.

I quickly saddle Myst, working fast now that we’re about to have company, but as I slide one foot in a stirrup to mount, she rears up. Prances her feet. Tosses her head.

I hold up my hands. “Whoa. Easy, girl. What is it?”

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