Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(59)

But all she could see was herself—and she didn’t feel like Ana anymore.

She searched through the drawers in the bathroom until she found a small razor, and sharpened it on a flint, the way she had back on the Dossier when she needed to shave up the sides of her head. Then she turned back toward the mirror, wiped the steam away, and pressed the razor to her scalp.

Di was gone, and so was the girl Ana used to be.





Robb


Two Valerio guardsman led him through one of the many identical hallways of the palace, following the gentle ebb of the lanterns overhead.

Erik’s going to kill me, he thought morosely, realizing that he’d annihilated his brother’s chance at the throne. He’s going to hire an assassin and literally kill me. And wear my skin as shoes.

Although he hadn’t been to the palace in seven years, he still remembered his way around well enough. The guards were leading him to the South Tower and not, say, somewhere to be inconspicuously offed. The corridors were tall and narrow, filled with ornate filigree and golden molding. A blue-eyed Messier stood like a statue at each corner, and as he passed them he couldn’t help but shiver, remembering the Metals from the Tsarina. The guards showed him to a nondescript room in the middle of the hallway and left without so much as a nod.

“Good-bye to you, too,” he muttered, wrapping his fingers around the doorknob, and pushed it open.

And instantly regretted it.

His mother perched on one of the floral fainting couches, and standing just behind, like a shadow, was a Valerio guard. He wanted to cry in relief—it wasn’t his brother. He’d live a little longer.

“Robbert. Come, sit down,” she welcomed him, motioning to the other couch.

He took another hesitant step into the room when he recognized the guard. Silver hair, lanky build, red-purple eyes that glared with enough intensity to stab him right through.

Jax.

He was dressed in a formal crimson uniform, epaulettes gleaming gold in the low lighting, the Valerio insignia pinned to his sleeve. But even the collar of the uniform couldn’t hide the glint of a black voxcollar, its nodes sparkling with electricity, the faintest glow against his sparkly skin.

Robb’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the contraption, how it hissed and hummed against Jax’s skin.

Robb had done plenty of things in his life he regretted—after all, his mother had said he longed for trouble.

But this was far worse than trouble.

And it was all his fault.

Robb tried to rein in his emotions, but it was far more difficult than ever before. “Why . . . why is the Solani here?”

“Every outlaw needs a second chance. Now come, sit down,” she repeated.

Cautiously, he came to stand by the vacant couch, unable to bring himself to sit, every nerve ending inside him like a live wire the closer he came to Jax. He’d thought he would never see Jax again. He’d thought his family’s guards had turned the Solani in to the Messiers, that the Solani had been left to rot in some mine on Cerces for the rest of his life.

Robb had never expected to see him here. He could still taste Jax’s lips, and it was starting to curl, rotten. First Ana, now Jax.

His mistakes felt haunting.

“I must say I am impressed, Robbert,” she said. “Your father would be, too. He always liked doing the right thing. Tell me, did you think about the consequences of returning the princess?”

“Consequences?”

“Of returning her to the kingdom? She wasn’t raised in the palace—she knows nothing about politics or economy or how to govern a kingdom. I doubt these outlaws taught her literacy, never mind understand the complexities of the government.”

“But she’s the lost princess, Mother, and my cousin—”

“And now, when the kingdom has its Goddess returned, the royal line will be reborn and where will we be, Robbert?”

Too close to marry, too far from the throne, he realized, and numbly sank down on the couch. His mouth opened and closed in shock. “You knew she had survived the Rebellion.”

“I did not,” his mother said. “I thought she had died with her brothers.”

“But you recognized her on that ship, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling. I had just hoped you would not do the imbecile thing you just did. You need to curry favor with the Grand Duchess and the other Ironbloods if you ever wish to return to the Academy.”

“You’d have killed her.”

“We all make sacrifices for our kingdom, dear,” she replied coolly.

He’d believe that his mother had sacrified anything when the sun caved in on itself. She was calculating and coarse. That was why she herself came to retrieve him. To make sure he did exactly as she wanted. She’d even thought he would turn Ana in at the palace—but he hadn’t.

He had surprised her.

“Ana isn’t a sacrifice—”

His mother’s lips pursed. “Do we damn one to save a thousand, or damn a thousand to save one? As Valerios, we do what is necessary.”

“Ana is half Valerio! She can learn to be a good ruler. She’s resourceful, and she’s smart—”

“She is soft,” his mother snapped, rising to stand. She towered over him, her icy eyes looking down the bridge of her nose, making him feel like the ten-year-old who was expected not to cry after losing his father. “You have disobeyed me once, and made me look like a fool—you will not again. We will fix this problem, and you will not get in the way. Do you understand?”