Page 98 of Steel Heart Iron Claws

A light flares in his eyes. He immediately stalks to the window, studying the spire of the Aurora Tower over the rooftops. For a few moments, I can see the gears turning in his head.

Then, he stalks back to the bed, that light in his irises blazing brighter. “I can get them.”

My lips part. “You think so?”

His hand lifts as though to reassure me by cupping my cheek, but then he hesitates. His fingers fold in. “I didn’t come all this way to fail. After I confront Iyre, we’ll get out of here. You and me. We’ll return to Old Coros and make Rian pay for what he’s done.”

His voice breaks with a rare note of hope.

I tug at a loose thread on my dress, looking down. “You promised me once that you’d cut out your beating heart if I asked you to. You said you’d crawl across kingdoms for me on hands and knees. You can’t…possibly still feel like that? Since I’m a stranger now?”

“Sabine,” he says slowly, tipping my chin up with one finger. “Cut out my heart? Little violet, I’d cut out a thousand hearts.”

The space between us is so tight. So tense. My arms acheto feel him. It’s a visceral need, as necessary as water. But he’s holding back—literally. An agonizing inch separates our bodies.

To kiss him, I’d simply have to tilt my chin up.

But I pace away, heat burning on my cheeks.

“It isn’t that simple. My father will never agree to let me leave. And—I’m not sure I want to. I know it sounds crazy, but something about this place calls to me.” I pivot sharply, facing him again. “Don’t misunderstand me. I know the fae are dangerous—I’m not blind. I’d like to get my hands around Iyre’s throat as much as you would. But it’s complicated. Their reign isn’t completely without merit. I see a glimmer of potential in them. Insomeof them. In my father, most of all.”

Basten’s eyes narrow a hair. I can feel the questions, the doubts.

“Besides,” I blurt out, pivoting sharply again, “They have a massive army. Goldenclaws. Tòrr, now. Grand Cleric Beneveto is ready to throw the full weight of the Red Church behind them. That means thousands of churches in Astagnon will preach the fae’s side—priests will even take up arms if necessary. If war breaks out, Volkany will decimate Astagnon. Millions, dead in a snap.” I wet my dry lips. “But my father? He might listen to me. There’s a chance we can avoid war.”

He folds his arms across his chest. “I trust you, Sabine. I do. Iwantto trust you.”

I stop at the bed, inches from him. My fingers close around the bedpost behind my back, locking me here, to keep my wayward body from rolling theteensiestbit to brush my chest against his.

I whisper, “Why did you come to Volkany? Really?”

His full lips twitch, and my stomach keels. There’s such brokenness in his eyes that every fiber of my body screams at me to go to him.

A catch pulls in his throat. “I dream about you. Every night. I think about you. Every day. For weeks, I pretended I could let you go, but all the while was looking for clues. Talismans. Mementos. Anything that could trigger a memory.” His voice grows gravely. “I came because I couldn’tnotcome.”

My fingers squeeze the bedpost harder to keep myself from falling.

“For a month,” he continues, leaning over me, “The world has tried to turn me against you. The Durish people blacked out your mural. Street criers preached of the traitorous Volkish princess. I had Runa Valvere in one ear telling me that you were poison, and Rian in the other ear professing your cunning.”

I breathe, “And the voice in your own head?”

He shakes his head. “What voice? There was no voice. No reason. No plan. Only my damn heart that said I had to fight a king, steal a monoceros, cross two kingdoms, and get myself captured so that I could stand here to look you in the eye and tell you that I’ve never believed in anything in my life—but I believe in you.”

My skin aches for him, goosebumps cropping up along my bare arms as I squeeze the bedpost harder. I’ve never felt such a raw, frenzied need before.

Basten believes me. Despite his erased memories, he didn’t doubt my heart for a second, even with the world trying to drive us apart.

Not. One. Doubt.

He’s so beautiful in the dark light that it makes my heartweep. At some point tonight, he bathed. His raven hair is now down and soft, still damp. The ghost of a beard hugs his jaw. He smellsdelicious.

My hips roll, knocking my knee against his. My face tips up so I can gaze at him through my lashes.

His lips are so damn close.

“Do I feel like a stranger to you?” I whisper.

“No, little violet.” His answer is immediate.

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