Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(51)

Ana’s mouth went dry. Because there was a gap in her memory, an expanse of blurry images she couldn’t make out. “I—I don’t—I don’t know, Your Grace. I can’t remember—”

“A convenient excuse,” said the Iron Adviser dryly, “for a girl pretending to be—”

“I don’t pretend to be anyone I’m not,” Ana snapped, her voice rising, echoing off the walls, remembering the words Di had told her the evening before when he’d braided her hair. It felt like a lifetime ago. “I am Ana of the Dossier—”

“Send the young Valerio on his way,” the Grand Duchess interrupted. She was shaking, so old and brittle she could fracture apart from her anger alone. “And you, girl—you are a terror to this kingdom. I have seen enough. On my word of iron and stars, you, Ana of the Dossier, are found guilty of treason—”

“No, Your Grace!” Robb cried.

“—and hereby sentenced to death.”

Before she could take a breath, Messiers swarmed toward her like a tidal wave to seize her. She struggled against them, but there were too many, and each time she tried to push away, they held on tighter. This was not how she thought she’d die. She wanted to die fighting. On a ship. Surrounded by nothing but light and space and sky.

She wasn’t royalty—she wasn’t the Goddess. The girl of light. If she were, then she could have protected Mokuba. She could have shut down Lord Rasovant’s ship, rescued Barger.

She could have saved Di.

But she hadn’t. And there would be no tombstone, no grave—and no one would remember him.

Where was the justice in that?

The thought broke something inside her, something so deep it reverberated through her soul. Where was justice at all? Where had it ever been?

If there was justice, Lady Valerio would be here, answering for Wick’s death. Lord Rasovant would be standing here in judgment instead, answering for the monsters he’d created on the Tsarina.

She was innocent.

Count your bullets, Siege had said, but the count was still at zero and yet here she was. Sentenced to death. For trying to save her best friend?

There was no justice in that.

With a scream, she tore against the Messiers that pulled her away, their grips bruising her. They clamped on harder, but she knew their weakness—like she knew Di’s when they trained in the cargo bay. She slammed a foot into one of their knees, and the Messier buckled, and crashed into the one beside it, knocking them both off balance, and she twisted out of their grips.

She spun back toward the doors, toward the exit, toward freedom, but a hand snaked into her hair and grabbed ahold of it near her scalp.

And pulled.

The Royal Captain dragged her back and pressed a lightword against the side of her neck. “Be silent,” she hissed.

Tears pooled at the edges of Ana’s eyes. She would not be silent. It was not a virtue she’d learned from Siege.

“She’s a murderer!” Ana shouted up to the old woman on her throne, the Royal Captain pulling harder at her hair, the blade sizzling against her skin. “You HIVE innocent Metals, and you kill everyone who disagrees with you. That’s not justice—that’s being a coward!”

“Silence!” the Royal Captain barked, slamming the hilt of her sword into Ana’s jaw, sending her to the ground.

“Ana!” Robb cried as Messiers caught him, twisting back his arms, and held him back. He squirmed against them, but from the look of pain on his face, his side must’ve started hurting again. “Your Grace, please—”

The Royal Captain raised her blade, readying to strike.

The Grand Duchess raised a hand. “Wait, Viera.”

The Royal Captain paused.

Ana glowered up at the Duchess and spit a mouthful of blood onto the plush runner, her hands bound behind her tight and uncomfortable.

The Grand Duchess studied her.

Just kill me, Ana thought. Just get this done with.

“Fine—if Robbert Valerio truly believes a dirty little girl like yourself could be my granddaughter, then who am I to call him a liar?” asked the Grand Duchess. “The Goddess will show me the truth. Fetch the crown.”

The Adviser gave a start. “But Your Grace—”

“I did not ask for counsel, Gregori.”

Yielding, the Adviser gave a short bow and left through the back hallway, as the Royal Captain forced Ana to her feet, unlocking her handcuffs. She rubbed her wrists so no one would see her hands shaking.

A few moments later, Lord Rasovant returned with the circlet of metal, the rust like bloodstains across its pointed edges.

The Iron Crown.

She had never seen it before. It was said that a thousand years ago, the Armorov bloodline had carved the crown from the Goddess’s heart, and only those worthy could wear it without its rusting. But Ana had never seen the Goddess in all the seven years she’d flown across the kingdom. Not in the sky, or in the worlds, or in the stars—she’d never seen the Goddess anywhere.

If she was the girl of light, then there was no Goddess.

But what if you were looking in the wrong places? a voice in the back of her head asked.

The Grand Duchess took the crown, and rust bloomed across her fingers where she held it. “Come, see if this crown fits; and if the Goddess decides you are unworthy, then both you and the Valerio boy will be sentenced to death.”