Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(48)

She thrashed against him, getting her hand free of his grip, and grabbed at his side where his stitches were. He let out a painful gasp—and that only made her curl her fingers into the wound, squeezing harder, until blood soaked the shirt Jax had lent him.

“Great Dark take you, you son of a b—”

Something cool and sharp pricked against her neck, and a lazy honey feeling washed over her, numbing her into darkness.





III


Iron Blood





Robb


His mother’s ship, the Caterina, sailed as silent as it was swift, thrusters spitting white-hot sparks that left trails of light behind them. The ship sped through the expanse between Cerces and Eros, toward the Iron Palace on Eros’s third moon, Luna. It was a straight shot, thanks to the Holy Conjunction—the alignment of the planets. A journey that, the last time he’d traveled it, had taken the better part of a week; they’d now arrive in less than a day.

As he left the Caterina’s medical ward, he popped two painkillers into his mouth. They tasted like chalk but gave him a nice, dull buzz so he didn’t have to think much. Not about the Dossier now controlled by Valerio men, or that humanoid Metal he hid in a body bag after he failed to upload Di, or Jax captured by his mother, Ana down in the holding cells, or how it was his fault that—

Stop. Thinking.

He rubbed his thumb against his chip, which was no longer hurting, though he wished it still did.

Jax should have left him on the Tsarina after all.

The starboard observation deck was empty, thankfully, not that he knew of anyone else on the Caterina who liked this room. Only he, and his father, stretched out on the two benches overlooking the passing stars.

He’d avoided windows ever since the Academy, but he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

He sat on the left bench with a hiss, the ache in his side as sharp as ever, and watched space slowly move by. He didn’t notice the Messier in the corner of the room until it asked him, “Do you need a refreshment, Lord Valerio?”

Robb jumped.

The Messier looked so much like D09, he thought for a moment it was the android. But this Metal’s eyes were blue, and its uniform pristine and pressed. D09 never looked anything short of just-hit-by-a-skysailer.

“Would you like a refreshment?” the Messier repeated.

“No—no, thank you. I would like some privacy, though,” he said.

The Messier’s blue eyes flickered. It bowed and left the observation deck.

Robb was sure he’d see more of them in the future, now that he was the soon-to-be Emperor’s brother. Wherever the Emperor went, Messiers followed. Their mindless blue-eyed gaze should’ve been a comfort after the red-eyed androids from the Tsarina, but it made him squirm nonetheless.

He ran a hand through his curly hair. This was the first time he had truly been alone since Astoria, and it was too quiet. It made the doubt and disgust in his head too loud.

You killed them—the entire crew.

What did they do to deserve that? Why do you care?

The reflection in the window tiredly stared back at him.

He didn’t recognize himself at first.

His cheeks looked thinner, and he needed a shave—but he’d seen that face before. It hung above the hearth at the Valerio estate of a man who’d died on the far side of Palavar.

His father was dead, and now the only people who had treated Robb remotely like a person were going to die, too.

And it’s all your fault, his shame whispered in the silence.

Resting his face in his hands, he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to push down the shame that clawed up his throat—Siege’s grin during a game of Wicked Luck, the crew mourning over their dead, the look Ana always gave her Metal, the taste of Jax just after their kiss. . . .

But the guilt bubbled up and up, because he had used them for his own selfish gain. He’d screwed up over and over and still they’d given him another chance.

Those outlaws don’t matter, he tried to convince himself, but the words morphed, twisted to You betrayed them—they mattered.

And there in the solitude of the observation deck, he cried. He wanted so badly to be his father’s son, but he had so unwillingly been everything his mother always wanted.





Ana


Great plumes of fire reached toward the marble ceiling. She coughed, unable to catch a deep-enough breath, as tapestries dropped from the walls and flowers in rich Erosian vases shriveled in the heat.

It was a nightmare.

She knew it was because she had never seen this place before in her entire life, but she recognized the corridors from the newsfeeds—the veiny marble walls and the melting golden trim.

The Iron Palace.

The ash tasted familiar on her tongue—and she wasn’t sure how.

Archways of fire stretched across the ceiling, crackling and smoldering against the white marble. Screams echoed down from the distant corridors. She wanted to save them, but someone had grabbed ahold of her wrist and led her away.

He was tall and broad shouldered, with thick dark hair and a beard. But she quickly realized that he wasn’t very tall at all—she was short. A child. She couldn’t see his face; it was blurred like rushing lights. Her heart pounded in her chest with fear—

But it’s a dream—this is a dream.