Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(68)
“You only have a handful of days before the coronation,” the steward went on, “so if Your Grace has any questions, I would be more than happy to answer them.”
“Have you heard anything about the Dossier?” she asked, surprising him. It wasn’t the question he was expecting, but it was the only one on her mind. Robb had said he had overheard his mother talking about how her guards lost the ship and ended up in a mine on Cerces.
He looked happy. “Absolutely nothing. If we’re lucky, that old ship is finally done. You see, it’s been a pain in the kingdom’s rear for quite some years, Your Grace.”
“Oh,” she said.
It felt like a story now, those years on the Dossier when she had been happy.
The Grand Duchess had ordered Viera to be her personal shadow. So Ana did the only thing she could think of—she made the Royal Captain swear her loyalty under penalty of death. Since Viera didn’t seem like the kind to break her oaths, Ana only mostly believed her.
The Royal Captain was merciless in her job as she followed Ana around the palace. Between classes, between meals—everywhere. Ana couldn’t even shake her to go exploring.
“You have tutoring beginning in a few minutes, Your Grace,” said the Royal Captain, following Ana down another long and winding corridor toward the North Tower. “We should return before your tutor informs Her Grace of your tardi—”
“Lord Whatever-His-Name can wait,” replied Ana, coming to an intersection. She watched the lanterns bob above her. They seemed to turn left, so she did, too.
“Understanding Iron Law is a crucial part of ruling, Your Grace.”
Ana rolled her eyes. “I’m a criminal. I think I know something about Iron Law.”
“Learning to evade the law isn’t the same as learning to pass judgment inside it,” the Royal Captain replied. “At the Academy, we spend years going over the doctrines. There are intricacies and amendments that take years for scholars to understand—”
“You’ve never broken the law, have you?” Ana stopped, turning back to face her bodyguard.
“I’m not like Robbert Valerio.”
“I bet he knows the law better than you. Captain Siege always taught me that you learn the law so you know how to break it.” She paused, looking down an adjacent hallway. It was a lot wider than the others, and at the end stood an intricately carved set of doors that were padlocked and sealed tight.
Two Messiers guarded the doors, one on either side. She started to turn down the hall when the captain stopped her.
“It’s the North Tower, Your Grace,” said Viera.
“Why’s it still closed off? It’s been seven years.”
“Lord Rasovant thought it best that the North Tower be kept as is, a monument to what we lost.”
“Even the Metals?”
“Hmm?”
“Are the Metals who burned my family still in there, too? Since none survived?”
The Royal Captain faltered. “I . . . am not sure, Your Grace.”
The Messiers that guarded the empty tower kept staring, staring, and for the first time Ana actually thought they were looking at her instead of past her. As if daring her to come investigate.
“And why are there Messiers standing guard over it if it’s just a monument?”
“They stand guard everywhere,” the Royal Captain’s replied. “Now please, Your Grace, we must get back before anyone notices you’re missing.”
Because Ana was just so scared of that. But she didn’t want anyone gossiping about where she was snooping, and if she came back later than usual, someone would be nosy enough to find out. So she gave in and followed her guard back to her room in the South Tower, unable to shake the attentive gazes of the Messiers as she left.
Every evening, Robb would come to her room and they would have dinner out in the garden. They never went to the moonlily grove again, but ate on the benches beside the moondial, the stoic shadow of Royal Captain Viera keeping watch over them.
Robb couldn’t seem to find the visitation logs for the day of the Rebellion.
“It’s like they’ve disappeared,” he said between mouthfuls of roasted chicken.
“Or someone destroyed them,” Ana replied, turning back to the captain. “Do you know who has access to the palace’s records?”
“Only the highest personnel,” replied the young captain. “Myself, the Grand Duchess—”
“And a good majority of the Iron Council,” Robb finished for her before explaining, “The Iron Council’s only called in a crisis. It’s composed of the heads of all the Ironblood families, so anyone could have taken or destroyed those records.”
Ana felt like they hit a barrier at every turn.
She couldn’t get any answers from her tutors either. They—and everything they taught—ran together like watercolors: history, intrigue, economics, Iron Law, policy. . . . She relentlessly asked questions about the palace, the Rebellion, her parents, but most of the stuffy-looking Advisers diverted her questions, or ignored her completely.
All except for one.
Lord Machivalle, her royal demeanor and conversation tutor, never seemed to shy away from any question. Ana often overheard her other tutors gossiping about him. He wasn’t even from a proper Ironblood name, they said. He had skin baked dry from the sun and wore so many jewels he glittered like the mines on Cerces. He looked Siege’s age, with hair the color of starlight—like Jax’s, but his skin didn’t shimmer like Jax’s did.