Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(73)

My pendant. She frowned. “I’ve had this for as long as I can remember. It’s not a Valerio thing.”

“Ah. But it is, Your Grace. There are only four in existence, and you wearing one speaks volumes without you saying a word.”

She kept rubbing the pendant, trying to smooth out the jagged bits that weren’t melted, but the longer she did, the more like a snake it seemed. She tried to remember where she’d gotten it, but all she could remember was that nightmare on the Caterina—a fire, a man pinning it onto her chest, saying it would protect her.

“It’s not a Valerio thing,” she repeated.

“What isn’t?” asked a voice in the doorway.

Cursing silently, Ana shoved her pendant into her cleavage and turned to face the Ironblood.

“If it isn’t you,” she greeted Robb Valerio.

“Sadly, it is,” he agreed dryly, cutting a thin shape in the doorway in a neatly pressed black tux. His golden cuff links, shaped into the Valerio crest, shone in the room’s low light. Her pendant looked nothing like them.

Nothing at all.

“I hope you two weren’t gossiping about me,” he went on.

“Never,” the Royal Captain replied.

Robb gave the captain a coy grin. “Ah, well, one can dream. Are you ready, Your Grace?”

“Wait!” Mellifare stumbled out of the servants’ entrance with a box in her hands.

The Royal Captain did not look amused. “About time, girl.”

“Forgive me,” Mellifare said with a bow, and held out the box. “For tonight. It was your mother’s crown. The Grand Duchess thought it not fitting for you to go without one tonight.”

Ana hesitated, but unlatched the box anyway. Inside, sitting like a wreath of sunshine, was a golden circlet. It was the crown Celene Valerio had worn, and the Empress before that, and before that.

She drew her hand away. “This crown belongs to whomever I marry, right? My—my consort. This isn’t mine.”

“The Armorov women have worn this crown for a thousand years—”

“But I’m not the consort. I’m not the Emperor’s partner,” she replied, and closed the box. “I am the heir.”

Besides, she didn’t want to wear a crown. It frightened her more than the fancy dresses or tutors. It was childish and silly not to wear it, because it was only a piece of jewelry—like rings or earrings or necklaces with Valerio crests—but it was a piece of jewelry that made people look at her differently.

And she wanted people to look at her for who she was, first.

Mellifare bowed. “Very well. May the stars keep you steady, Your Grace.”

“She’ll have my arm for that,” Robb said dismissively, and offered it. Ana took it and let him lead her out of the East Tower, through the maze of hallways she’d come to memorize by what tapestries hung on which walls and what vases stood on which pedestals, toward the ballroom where the gala was being held. The lanterns ebbed and flowed above them. Messiers stood at every door they passed like blue-eyed sentinels, and it felt as though ever since she’d first visited the North Tower, they watched her as she passed.

“So, will there be any sword fights at this gala? Duels? Drunken orgies?” she asked jokingly. “You know how we outlaws prefer our entertainment.”

“Of course, there will be all of the above—there will even be dancing.”

She shivered.

“Oh, what’s wrong?”

“I hate dancing.”

“Hopefully you won’t dance much,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder to judge how far back the Royal Captain was, before he said in a much lower voice, “I found those records in the library today—pretend like I told you a joke.”

She forced a laugh, gripping his arm tighter. “Anything?”

“My father arrived at the palace just after midnight to meet with the Emperor in the North Tower,” he fake-chuckled, “but I can’t find a record of their meeting.”

“Is that information kept?”

“Always—especially visitations from the Emperor’s family.”

“So what happened between his arrival and the Tsarina?”

“I don’t know,” Robb replied. His fake smile was disconcerting, it looked so real. He was terrifyingly good at pretending. “The logs are all messed up after that. It says my father called the guards to the North Tower twenty minutes after his arrival at the palace, but before they could arrive, fire consumed the Tower. I think we know what happened from there.”

She found she couldn’t fake-smile or fake-laugh anymore. “So all we managed to find out was that there wasn’t a record of your father meeting with the Emperor?”

She wanted to punch something—but then Robb said, “No, we found out why my father didn’t meet with the Emperor.”

“Because . . . he was calling the guards?”

His eyes glimmered. “Because he found something and then called the guards.”

They waited outside the ballroom for the steward to announce their arrival. Sweet, light music eased in through the cracks in the door, dancing with the steady cadence of gossip.

“The fire was a cover-up,” she murmured.

Robb gave her a side-eye glance. “You think?”