Page 70 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

Who am I supposed to believe, a maid with stars in her eyes, or my own heart? Maybe if Matron White and the Sisters hadn’t kept me locked away half my life, I would know what to make of the world. As it is, my experience with the wider world is limited to a handful of months spent in Sorsha Hall with Rian. And look at how well I readthatsituation.

In my heart, I know that the only person I’ve ever trusted to set my course straight is Basten. He’s my North Star. My wayfinder.

And now, he’s all alone in Rian’scourt of lies.

I’m not sure how long I stand at the window, but when the door swings open, I spin around with my heart in my throat.

King Rachillon—Vale—fills the doorway, glamoured, looking deceptively human in a simple dark gray cloak.

“Father.” I grab a robe from the wardrobe, shrugging it on quickly over my nightdress. Clearing my throat, I cinch the belt tightly. “You don’t need to hide yourself with this human glamour anymore.”

I motion to his drab appearance.

He plucks at his round ear shell as he rasps, “I thought it would be easier for you.”

“A wolf in sheep’s clothing is still a wolf.”

To my surprise, he chuckles as he crosses his thick arms over his leather doublet. “You have fire in you, Daughter. I like to see it. But before you go crashing through any more ceilings, I have something to show you.”

I brace myself, taking a step backward, and trip over a copy of the Book of the Immortals on the floor. I’ve been reading the stories that I didn’t have access to in the convent. Trying to learn everything I can about my newfamily.

“What exactly do you wish to show me?” I ask tightly. “The Serpent Knife? To my jugular? Did you bring me to Volkany to slit my throat on one of your altars like that poor farm boy in The Sacrifice of the Golden Child?”

He huffs a breath, amused. “Get dressed. And come to the Garden of Ten Gods.”

When he leaves, I remain standing stock-still, unsure of what my options are at the moment. Finally, I decide they’re extremely limited when one’s father is King of Fae.

Once I’m dressed, guards escort me down the centralstairs and into the walled garden that sits between the star-like points of the Cloudveil Tower and the Aurora Tower.

Stone paths wind around topiaries shaped into fae beasts. A large privet tree is trimmed into a goldenclaw. A half dozen small holly shrubs are shaped like a family of playful cloudfoxes. When we emerge from the awe-inspiring topiaries, it’s into an open, circular amphitheater with gleaming white marble steps.

Around the perimeter are ten statues twice a person’s height—one for each of the gods. Offerings rest upon altars at the base of each statue: coins, wildflower bouquets, raisin loaves.

As much as I want to march in with cold-blooded confidence, I can’t help but gaze in soft-jawed wonder at the statues’ masterful craftsmanship.

Still, when I see the individuals seated haphazardly on the marble steps, my jaw closes up tight again.

Great.

Iyre, Artain, Samaur, and Woudix—with Hawk—sprawl on the various levels of the amphitheater steps while my father holds court in the center stage. They’re wearing their human glamours, but with their ethereal beauty only rivaled by their stunning arrogance, I can’t believe I didn’t see the truth earlier.

“Dotheyall need to be here?” I fold my arms as I saunter down the first step.

“Nice to see you again, too, princess.” Artain kicks out his feet, resting his head back on his clasped hands. He nods to Vale and says, “You know, if you had given me one night with her, as I’d asked, she’d never have tried to jump out a window—she’d never leave my bed.”

“Try to put your libido out of your mind for a minute,” Vale growls. “I told you, we’re doing it differently this time.”

My head jerks toward him.

This time?

Artain shrugs and leans back against the base of a statue. With a lurch in the pit of my stomach, I realize he’s positioned directly below his own statue—a figure of Immortal Artain in nearly the same arrogant pose.

I roll my eyes.

Vale points a warning finger at the rest of the fae. “Lady Sabine is my daughter, not a prisoner. She’s the future of this kingdom as much as the rest of you are. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to pivot in our plans. Remember the First Return? The queen of Spezia’s pirate fleet?” He looks pointedly at Samaur, who sheepishly adjusts his silk shirt collar. “Now, unless you wish me to hurtle each one of you over that wall into the Ramvik River, you’ll fall in line.”

I’m still curious about what he meant by “this time,” though I suppose theyhavekidnapped a small army of godkissed people, which would lend itself to wanting to do things differently.

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