Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(72)
Trying to ignore the destruction he had caused, he pushed through the crowd until he reached the service door E0S had unlocked, leading into a side garden.
E0S let him inside—and suddenly jolted with a staticky, buzzing bleep as it got near.
“Give me a moment,” he told the bot, and closed his eyes, pressing his back against the door to keep himself upright. His knees had gone numb again, his head thick. There had to be a manual for this body somewhere.
He was tense, his thoughts jagged as he tried to smooth them out, calm them. The sizzling, electric feeling inside him slowly ebbed, crashing back into some unknown system he did not know how to access.
E0S bleeped again, shaking off the jolt.
“Sorry,” he told it. “There is a learning curve—”
“Sir, you’re not supposed to have a bot here,” came a voice from the garden, causing him to scramble to his feet. An Ironblooded man stood from a stone bench, frowning underneath his brown mustache. “Say, did you just come from the square?”
Di gave the man a once-over before deciding, “I need your clothes.”
“Excuse me? You aren’t supposed to be here. Guards! G—”
Di slammed his fist into the man’s face. He crumpled backward into the azalea bushes.
Captain, we are inside the palace, he thought loudly, shaking his sore hand. And I found a better suit.
“Good. I got disconnected from you for a moment—and the live feeds from the square went down. What happened?” she asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.
I must have hit the wrong button.
“Funny.”
E0S agreed.
As he changed into the aristocrat’s clothes, he added sarcasm to his list of glitches, beginning to wonder if they were glitches at all.
Ana
“I want answers,” she snapped at her steward as she paced her room—at least she tried to pace. The voluminous ball gown kept tangling between her legs. It didn’t matter how pretty the jewels beneath the frosted lace looked—this dress was a pain and she hated it.
Nothing had gone the way she had hoped it would these last few days. She thought she’d at least have more real details about the royal family’s—my family’s, she corrected herself—death by now.
“What happened out in the square? Why did all the Messiers go offline?” she asked, wrenching the ball gown from between her legs again. “What happened to the holo-pads? The comm-links?”
“I am unsure, Your Grace,” the steward replied apologetically. “There was a disturbance in the square when the Messiers were knocked offline.”
She turned back to him in alarm. “A disturbance? Is everyone all right?”
“Between a Metal and a few citizens, Your Grace. There were a few injuries—”
“A man had his arm broken,” the Royal Captain said irately. “It was vile.”
Ana frowned. “And the Metal did that?”
The old man pressed his lips together in a grimace. “We are . . . unsure, Your Grace.”
“There is little evidence to indicate otherwise,” Viera added.
Ana said to the captain, “For someone not there, you’re awfully quick to point a finger. I know . . . knew . . . a rogue Metal. He didn’t do anything unprovoked. It wouldn’t be logical.”
The Royal Captain looked as if she wanted to argue but then bowed her head. “Forgive me. Of course you are correct.”
The steward shifted on his feet uncomfortably. Did Ironbloods ever bother to get to know Metals? How they functioned, why? Of course not, but she could hear her decorum instructor, Lord Machivalle, tsking at her for her lack of tact.
Ana fisted her hands. “Lord steward, when you find out what really happened, please let me know—and keep me updated on the injured man’s condition,” she added.
The steward, clearly relieved, nodded vigorously. “Yes, Your Grace! And Lord Rasovant is investigating the disturbance as we speak. I assure you, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying what she really wanted to. She was not afraid. She was aggravated.
“I’ll have Rasovant post more Messiers around the perimeter before tonight’s gala,” the Royal Captain said, and the steward nodded.
“Splendid idea! The gala tonight will be wonderful. Your father always loved parties,” he added, and left Ana’s room to go track down her handmaiden, Mellifare. She seemed to run off as often as Ana herself.
Ana massaged the bridge of her nose, stepping out onto the balcony. Ships sailed over the palace toward the moonbay, carrying with them Ironbloods bound for the gala tonight and tomorrow’s coronation. The air was electric with anticipation, the palace aglow with colored lights. Machivalle hadn’t showed for her lesson today, so she was just more irritated than usual. She had more questions about her parents. She had questions about everything, and only Machivalle seemed to want to take her seriously.
“Do I look naive to you?” she asked the Royal Captain after a while, rubbing her pendant.
“No, Your Grace,” Viera responded, “but perhaps to assert your authority you should not wear the Valerio crest tonight.”
“The what?”
The Royal Captain tapped the base of her throat.