Heart of Iron (Heart of Iron #1)(78)

She clasped her new partner’s hand.

Black suit, silver cummerbund, cold knuckle rings—

“Seems I’m in luck tonight, cousin,” said Erik Valerio, and she looked up into eyes as cold and sharp as an Erosian sky. “Was that other boy frightening you? You seemed quite smitten by him for a while. Did he step on your toes?”

She tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand tighter. “I’m done dancing—”

“Just one more, Your Grace. I want to get to know my long-lost cousin.”

She glanced back to the redheaded boy, but he was no longer in the waltz.

“I’m sorry, am I not entertaining enough?” Erik Valerio added bitterly.

She snapped her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, are you talking?”

His smile turned sharp. “You should listen.” He squeezed her hands, the rings pinching into her skin.

She gritted her teeth against the pain. “Let me go.”

“You can wear all the pretty dresses you want, and shave your head, and wear a crown, but it doesn’t change what you are. An orphan girl no one wants. Even your pirate friends didn’t want you. They’re probably glad to be rid of you.”

“You don’t know anything,” she ground out.

“Or are you scared that I’m right? You destroy everything you touch, Your Grace.” His breath was against her ear now as they danced intimately closer, his rings grinding her knuckles together. “You should have died with the rest of them.”

“Shut up.” She tried to pull away. He held on tightly. They spun faster to the music, the rest of the ballroom a blur.

“Then maybe your Metal, what was his name? Di? Maybe he would still be alive.”

“I said shut up!” she snapped, and dug her nails into the backs of his hands.

He gave a cry and let go. “What’s wrong, Your Grace?” he asked, as if she was the problem—until she noticed the silence.

The orchestra had stopped its waltz, and the Ironbloods all turned to her.

“Ananke?” The Grand Duchess stood from her throne, looking worried. “Are you all right?”

She could feel the way they looked at her, and her scars burned from it. She tried to speak, but no words came out.

You should have died, Erik Valerio’s voice whispered in her head. She couldn’t get rid of it. It resounded like a phantom pain. Maybe he would still be alive.

“Ananke?” the Grand Duchess asked again.

That isn’t my name, she wanted to scream, but her chest was tightening, and she couldn’t get a deep enough breath. Why was everyone looking at her? Hadn’t they seen scars before? An outlaw? An orphan?

She curled her hands into fists, letting her fingernails dig into her palms, grounding herself in the pain—

Until she caught sight of the redheaded young man again—that Metal—hidden in the crowd. He watched her, his face the only one not judging, not appalled. But worried, as if he had failed in some monumental way. Not she, not she.

And over his shoulder, lens tightening, hovered—

E0S?

No, it was a bot that looked like E0S. There were thousands. It wasn’t E0S. E0S was with the Dossier, and she would never see it again.

But what if—what if—

The crowd shifted, and the redheaded young man was gone.

You should have died, Erik Valerio’s voice repeated in her head.

“Your Grace?” Erik asked, making his voice sound worried. He put a hand on her shoulder “Do you need to sit?”

She slapped him away. “Next time you touch me, I will break your fingers.”

And Erik grinned.

Drawing her dress up, she excused herself from the ballroom as a rush of disbelieving murmurs followed in her wake.

Uncouth, wild, they said.

The Royal Captain fell into her shadow so quietly, she almost didn’t realize. Ana followed the lanterns back to her room in the South Tower.

“Your Grace,” Viera said, for the first time her even tone spiked with worry, “are you all right? Did something happen with Lord Valerio?”

Ana fled into her room and slammed the door before her guard could come inside and finally there was silence. She breathed in the stillness, rubbing her knuckles where Erik Valerio had ground them together, blinking to keep the tears in her eyes.

Erik Valerio was wrong. She knew in her heart he was wrong, but still his words hounded her. He’s wrong, she repeated as she sank to the ground. Her gown crinkled—

Machivalle’s note!

The answer he couldn’t tell her.

She took it out of her dress pocket, and with her fingers still shaking, she unfolded the piece of paper.

His name, the note read, was D09.





Di


“Di, calm down.” Siege’s voice pierced through the fury burning in his wires. He stalked through the hallway, hands bunched into fists. Calm down? How could he?

The way that Ironblood—Erik Valerio—looked at her like he wanted to break her—he could not stand the thoughts in his head. All the ways he wanted to kill that reeking sack of human flesh—all the ways he could—

“Di,” the captain repeated.

I am trying, he replied, but he could not seem to zero out his anger.

Nothing in this illogical body would listen. He was angry, but he was also confused. When they had danced, all he wanted to do was keep dancing. And kiss her. He wanted to kiss her so badly—it must have been a glitch.