Page 86 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

I hesitate. “What prize?”

“A sip from the Meden Cup, of course!” Samaur punches his fist in the air to the chorus of raucous applause from the crowd.

My head spins at all the noise. Frankly, I have no idea what the Meden Cup is or what vile concoction it likely contains.

Human blood? Goat piss?

Still, the thrill of a challenge has worked its way under my skin. For so many years, I wasn’t allowed to have fun. To drink. To dance. To celebrate my godkiss.

“What the hell.” I grin, slightly uncertain. “I’ll play.”

My words are met with more enthusiasm from the human courtesans, who laugh and clap in anticipation.

Artain slaps me on the back. “That’s the spirit, princess!”

I cough, trying to hide how his inhuman strength nearly knocked me to my knees.

Someone—Arden, maybe? —thrusts another glass of wine in my hand, and before I second-guess myself, I down it in one long glug. That was…maybe a mistake. Wiping my lips, I scan the room tipsily, struggling to make calculations.

I rest my hands on my hips. “Open all the windows.”

Paz, Arden, and the twins jump into action, unlatching the Hall of Vale’s tall, arched windows. An unseasonably wintery breeze rolls in, ruffling my gown, tickling my ankles with a rush of excitement.

I roll back my shoulders, standing tall, feeling the adrenaline enter my system. This is what Rian taught me—the allure of a game, the intoxicating rush of outsmarting an opponent.

I catch snippets of conversations. Low murmurs of bets being placed. The room feels alive, and I can’t help but feed off that energy.

The game is on, and I’m ready to play.

I climb onto the banquet table, knocking over a goblet, but ignore its clatter as I lift my hands toward the open windows.

Come, friends!I call.Join our feast!

Everyone spins toward the windows as they seem to hold a collective breath. No one here can hear my godkissed voice—not even the fae—so to them, I am merely staring at the windows.

Time stretches. A musician drops his violin, the strings squealing in protest.

Then, a storm hits.

It’s a flurry of wings and feathers. First, the blackbirds come. They were closest to the castle, pecking in the kitchen garden outside. Next, a flock of tiny gold-winged finches swoop in and land on the cheese platter. Oneof the royal falcons, still wearing leather thongs, circles over the attendee’s heads before tearing into the roast turkey. A pair of swans who usually live in the Twilight Garden fly in and fight over a crusty loaf of bread.

As more birds pour through the windows, gusts from their beating wings ripple throughout the hall, blowing over cloth napkins and leaving women to clutch their curls.

“Exceptional!” a courtesan cries.

“Look—they’re still coming!” Paz’s face shines in awe as he points to the windows.

More birds pour in—lapwings and jays, barred owls, a buzzard. Their wings throw shadows over the ceiling as they circle over the guest’s heads, diving down now and again to pluck a treat from the banquet table.

“Not too bad for a human—” Artain begrudgingly starts, but his praise falls on uncaring ears as I sharply pivot away from the birds to face the rear wall that flanks the kitchen.

Little scavengers,I call.Come, eat your fill!

Gasps ripple through the crowd as the floor begins to vibrate, causing the water glasses to tremble. From the open doors, hundreds of rodents stream into the hall. Plain brown mice who live in the walls. A few timid rats from the kitchen. A family of chittering red squirrels. A pair of rabbits from the kitchen garden, followed by a beaver who waddled all the way from the river valley.

Guests exchange incredulous glances as they spin in circles to take in our company. A few attendees press their hands over their mouths, unable to contain their marvel, while others point excitedly.

“That buzzard is eating Iyre’s slice of cake!” Arden exclaims with a laugh.

---