Heart of Iron

by Ashley Poston

  Or that the Ironblood, for no particular reason, smelled like mint and honey.

  He would not be swayed by a pretty boy.

  The Ironblood had lied. Jax wasn’t sure what he would do once he caught the boy, because everything sounded appealing at the moment. Strangling. Shaking. Dismantling him limb from limb—slowly, to enjoy the moment.

  After all, he was the most merciful of the crew members.

  But when he found Robb trying to hot-wire the skysailer in the cargo bay—and failing—he quickly realized the most he could do was kick the poor boy’s charming ass.

  “The battery’s shorted out, little lord,” he said, surprising the Ironblood in the cockpit. “And we’re far past Iliad’s waystation already. You wouldn’t make it even on the Goddess’s good graces.”

  Robb gave a start—and grabbed for something under the dash—his lightsword—and drew it, stumbling out of the cockpit. The weapon glowed between them like a slice of sunlight, emitting a soft hum. They always looked a good deal prettier than they felt. Superheated, they could slice through anything like a knife through butter.

  Jax raised an eyebrow. “My, what a shiny hello you have there. Found where we hid it, did you?”

  “Let me leave—or I’ll skewer you.”

  “Haven’t you already tried once? Although with a smaller utensil,” he added jokingly, but when the Ironblood didn’t falter, Jax pocketed his hands with a sigh. “Go on then, Valerio. Solani bleed like the rest of you. Skewer me. I’d make a pretty shish kebab.”

  “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  “I know you will.”

  Sweat prickled on the Ironblood’s brow. With the wound in his side, the poor boy could barely stand for long, let alone fight. But he knew how to handle a sword, at least—lightly on the handle, loose like an extension of his arm. He knew to look at his opponent and not the tip of his own sword; he knew the fighting stance, turning sideways to be as small a target as possible. He must’ve been quite a lovely outcast at the Academy. All frills and sweet cologne and a bleeding heart on his sleeve.

  “Why are you running?” Jax asked. “Scared that we’ll kill you for being a Valerio?”

  Robb tightened his grip on his sword.

  “Or,” Jay drawled, “are you afraid we will turn you in? Half a mil coppers is a very pretty picture.”

  “Goddess be damned you will,” the boy snapped. “I’m not going back.”

  “We could just kill you—”

  “Says the one at sword point.”

  “—but I have a feeling you’d be messy.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “Or—now hear me out.” Jax tested his courage and took another step, eyeing the lightsword. “Or you stay here, and we work this out like civilized gentlemen.”

  “Civilized?” the Ironblood scoffed. “You must be kidding me.”

  “We’re perfectly civil, thank you. I’m not the one holding an innocent man at sword point, now am I? But oh, woe, we’re so uncivilized.”

  Robb set his jaw. “You mock me.”

  “Only because you’re being insufferable.”

  “Goddess, why can’t you just let me—”

  Jax heard the dedicated whir of E0S coming down into the cargo bay—probably to check on the solar engine. It did its rounds every hour, but the time must have slipped his mind. He had to act quickly, or else that bot would go straight to the captain like the dutiful little tech it was and unlock that cockpit faster than a jewel thief out of a Cercian mine.

  The sound of E0S distracted Robb for the split second Jax needed.

  He lunged for the lightsword—

  And underestimated the Ironblood.

  Robb jumped away, spinning it behind his back to his other hand, and sliced at him. The sword flashed through the air like a bolt of lightning. Jax cursed—nothing around to block the blade—and raised his arm. Jax saw Robb’s lips parting in surprise a moment before the blade slammed into Jax’s forearm.

  The lightsword bounced off like steel on stone. Sparks lit the air between them.

  Robb stumbled back, perplexed. “What the—”

  “Congratulations—now I’m mad,” Jax said, pushing up his shirt sleeves. He always liked this reveal, vain as it was. Around his wrists were thick, dark bands of what looked like obsidian, reaching all the way to his elbows. He might have inherited his good looks from his mother, but his father had given him the war cuffs. An heirloom.

  Robb stared at the cuffs.

  Jax thumped his finger against one. “Tempered black glass, terribly sturdy, and oh so very uncivilized—”

  “Shut up!” Robb swung again.

  Jax raised his wrist. Deflected the attack. He couldn’t keep this up forever—and judging by the thin sheen of sweat on Robb’s pale face, the Ironblood couldn’t either. Jax was actually amazed he hadn’t passed out already, or pulled a stitch.

  The Ironblood was either very determined or very, very stupid.

  “How are you a Valerio, anyway?” Jax asked, hoping to distract the Ironblood—or at least get him angry enough to make a mistake. All Jax needed was one. “I bet your mother is ashamed.”

  “She’ll never be happy!” Robb swirled his sword around in his grip and put his weight into it this time.

  The lightsword clashed with the black glass, sparks hissing between them. Robb leaned in, much stronger than he looked, but Jax did, too. One slip and the lightsword would graze past his cuffs and slice off his arm. He wouldn’t look too dashing without an arm, he didn’t think. His elbow ached.

  “If you leave in that skysailer, Siege will hunt you down,” Jax said, struggling in their stalemate. The lightsword was so close, he could feel the heat against his skin. “And when she catches you? No one will save you.”

  “I don’t need saving.” Robb’s hot breath fell against his lips. Their faces were so close Jax could see the fire burning in the Ironblood’s sky-colored eyes, and his skin prickled.

  “We all need to be saved, Lord Valerio.” Jax bent closer, an electric, warping energy between them. “You just have to choose who you want saving you.”

  In a single motion, he looped his leg around Robb’s and jerked his feet out from under him. The Ironblood fell onto his back with a yelp. The lightsword skittered away underneath a crate and flickered out.

  “Am I interrupting?” asked a voice.

  Both boys glanced toward the entrance.

  D09 stood in the doorway, holding E0S hostage under his arm, downturned so the little bot couldn’t see anything and tattle back to the captain. So D09 had managed to override the lock on the cockpit. Of course he had. D09 was a computer, after all.

  Behind Jax, he could hear the Ironblood struggling to his feet again. You should’ve stayed down, little lord.

  Jax told D09, “Give me a moment?”

  Then he turned to the Ironblood and coldcocked him right in that smug, perfect jaw of his, sending him back to the ground. The Ironblood didn’t get back up.

  “All right,” Jax said, and tugged at his worn leather gloves. “Take him to the captain. I’m done.”

  As the Metal came over and grabbed Robb by the arm, Jax turned away to fix the mess of wires in the skysailer.

  Robb

  Robb awoke with a sudden pain in his side. Sharp. Throbbing. He sucked in a hiss, jerking to sit up, only to realize that he was already sitting upright in a chair. He really needed to stop waking up like this. Could it be, just once, from a really nice dream?

  He shifted to alleviate some of the pain, becoming distinctly aware of the burning sensation in his wrist too.

  The tracking chip.

  He quickly pressed his wrist against his thigh so no one would notice the telltale glow of the activated chip. A signal on its own wavelength, manufactured so that no other radar could pick it up. Jax thought Lady Valerio didn’t care about her second son—but he was mistaken. She cared too much about her legacy to lose him.

  Goddess’s spark, not yet. Not ye
t.

  He blinked the blurriness out of his eyes.

  The room was dark, rust colored, with a holographic map of the kingdom rotating on the corner of the desk, throwing stars onto the walls. Siege’s hair lit up the room like an inferno. He squinted at the brightness, the ringing in his ears loud enough to make his head feel thick.

  “He had this in his pocket, Captain,” the Metal said, extending the iron ore. It didn’t rust in Metal hands. Well, obviously it didn’t—but it was still peculiar. By the Goddess’s scriptures, whoever the crown didn’t rust for was destined for the Iron Throne.

  Oh, the kingdom would combust into rage if a Metal claimed that right.

  The captain’s eyebrows shot up as she took the ore. “An iron ore? Where’d you get this, son?”

  His jaw hurt to move, and he tasted blood in his mouth from where Jax had knocked him good. “How long was I out?”

  “Ten minutes and twenty-seven seconds,” replied D09.

  “Now where’d you get this?” pressed the captain.

  Robb gave her a flat look.

  “Ah, so we answer your questions but you don’t answer ours? Typical Valerio,” she added under her breath, and waved her hand to dismiss D09. “Give us a minute.”

  The Metal did, but Robb noticed another face in the doorway.

  “You too,” the captain said to Ana, who was hovering just outside. “Don’t think I don’t see you there.”

  “But Captain—”

  “Out.”

  He couldn’t meet Ana’s withering glare. She had trusted him, stuck up for him against her own crewmates. A Valerio shouldn’t care, he reminded himself. Valerios didn’t care.

  Sulking, Ana closed the door behind her.

  And left him alone with the homicidal captain. Siege was terrifying even without her bandolier and golden-trimmed murder coat. In a plain nightshirt and breeches, she still looked like the walking emblem of death.

  “So, why Aragon?” she asked, rolling the iron ore between her fingers. Rust came off, painting her fingertips a reddish brown.

  He shrugged.

  “Start talking or I’ll cut off your ears first. Then your lips. Then your nose—”

  “What am I supposed to say? Sir,” he added.

  “You’re a Valerio,” she replied, setting down the iron ore. “Let’s start with that. The younger, right? You can’t be more than, what, fourteen?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “You should be graduating from the Academy, so why aren’t you there?”

  I was kicked out, he thought, remembering the weight of his shame as his peers stood against the banisters and watched him leave the great hall. The look of pity from the professors, the sneers from the other students. It seemed that even with perfect test scores, the Academy frowned upon low attendance. He spent too much time sneaking away to find some clue—any clue—to his father’s whereabouts. He told himself he didn’t care that the Academy kicked him out.

  And when he found his father, it wouldn’t matter what anyone else thought, either.

  “With all due respect, why do you care?” He tried to keep his voice level, to stop the shaking, but it was impossible. He was so close to answers, and now he was going to be spaced because these pirates weren’t as dumb as he’d hoped. “I’m a Valerio, so I doubt you’ll believe whatever I say. You already have your ideas about me.”

  “Same can be said about us. Your brother’s about to be Emperor, and we’re the thorn in his side. I have communications with at least half a dozen other vessels in the same line of work, and they all report to me. You’ve got your ruler, and your kingdom, and your crown, and we’ve got ours. Me. And life’d be a lot sweeter if the kingdom got rid of me. So how do I know you aren’t trying to bring me in? Or kill me? I’m right here, so what’s stopped you?”

  Well, that was a simple answer. “I don’t care about the kingdom.”

  “But it’s your legacy—”

  “My brother’s legacy,” he corrected. “Not mine.”

  “And what would your father say about that?” asked the captain, as if she knew what he would and wouldn’t approve of. Who was she, a criminal, to judge?

  A muscle in his jaw twitched.

  She went on. “He was killed in the Rebellion, wasn’t he? You would’ve been, what, ten?”

  “They never found a body.”

  “Never found the bodies of the Armorov boys either, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t mixed in with the ashes,” replied the captain. “Your father could’ve burned in the palace, too.”

  The carelessness in her voice made Robb fist his hands to control his anger, the pain in his side becoming a numb throb. “He didn’t—I know he didn’t. The Tsarina was the only ship docked in the moonbay that wasn’t accounted for after the Rebellion. If there’s a chance he took that ship . . . if he’s still on it . . . if he escaped . . .” His words caught in his throat, because this was his hope. This was what helped him sleep at night, the thought that his father hadn’t burned, that he had survived. “My father didn’t die in the palace, sir. I will bet my life on it.”

  “You’re stubborn like your father,” she replied offhandedly, putting her elbows on the desk. She steepled her fingers. “But now Ana’s the most wanted criminal in the kingdom and we’ve got half a million coppers on our head.”

  “To be frank, sir, she’s the one who stole from me. I bought those coordinates fairly. None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t followed me to my family’s garden. So pardon me, but I think she deserves it.”

  “Then why did you help her? On Astoria?”

  He didn’t know why he had saved Ana. It was something a good Ironblood wouldn’t do. “I needed those coordinates,” he heard himself saying. It sounded truthful enough.

  “I would’ve let you bleed out in some back alley of Nevaeh if I were her—”

  “Then space me already,” Robb snapped. “You think you’re better because you cheat and steal from Ironbloods, but you’re no different than us. You just do it under different colors. So if you’re going to kill me, do it.”

  Now he definitely was going to be spaced, jettisoned out and bounced against the wing tip of this shithole of a ship. Fear stung in his throat, feeling a lot like the telltale sign of tears.

  The captain stared at him for a long moment and then sat back in her creaky leather chair. “We’ll be arriving in three hours to the Tsarina. Best you get some shut-eye before we get there.”

  His fear became a cold knot in his stomach. “You’re . . . letting me live?”

  “We aren’t all like you Ironbloods, Robbert Valerio. Sometimes, people make mistakes,” she replied, and his cheeks burned in embarrassment. She held out the iron ore. “But a word of warning: if you ever decide to take someone else’s last name again, make sure you don’t already have one first.”

  Nodding, Robb took the ore, wrist burning from the chip. He should tell her about it—

  But if he did, he would be off this ship faster than he could blink, and then he wouldn’t be any closer than he was before to finding his father. And besides, he was sure this terrifying captain and her crew could take on a few Valerio soldiers.

  Of course they could.

  Whoever his mother sent couldn’t be that close behind.

  I have time, he told himself, and for the moment he believed it, his side aching a little more with each passing moment. It was a different kind of pain this time. Sore. Shuddering. It hurt to breathe. He put his hand against his side instinctively.

  He escaped the captain’s quarters as quickly as he could, not seeing Ana eavesdropping by the doorway until it was too late. They collided, and the rock went skittering across the floor.

  “Sorry—ow, ow, ow—” he hissed, clutching his wounded side, before he remembered the iron ore. “Shit, where did it—”

  “This?” She picked it up.

  “Oh, careful, it . . .” His words trailed off. The iron ore didn’t rust against her fingers.

&
nbsp; A chill raced down his spine.

  Was her hand artificial? It looked real enough, and a cut on her finger looked recent, freshly scabbed over.

  He studied her, trying to jog some long-repressed memory from his childhood, waiting to recognize her—or for her to recognize him.

  If the Tsarina had escaped—if his father had escaped . . .

  He racked his brain to remember the princess. He’d always played with her older brothers, so their paths had never crossed much. Dark hair. Golden-brown eyes. Always running around barefoot.

  He would have recognized her, wouldn’t he?

  Ana eased away from him. “You okay?”

  “I—I’m fine,” he quickly replied, looking away. It was just a trick. What were the odds? He shook his head, holding out his hand for the ore. “Just . . . wishing I wasn’t a Valerio right about now.”

  Her mouth twitched. “At least you’ve got a last name.”

  “You don’t?”

  “The captain found me and Di in an escape pod. I don’t remember much.” She handed the ore back. Still, her fingers had no rust on them, while the ore left a trail of burnt red across his skin. “My parents were ship traders. The captain said they died in a mercenary attack.”

  “Oh.” So she was not the lost princess. The princess had died—the entire royal family had. “I’m—I’m terribly sorry.” He put the ore back into his pocket, other hand still holding tight to his side, and leaned against the wall as she left for the crew’s quarters.

  His head was buzzing too much to think, a jumbled, tumbling mess. There was a girl on this ship who didn’t rust. A ship merchant’s daughter who didn’t rust.

  He sucked in another painful breath. Had he pulled a stitch?

  Jax emerged from the stairwell, tugging his ponytail, until he noticed Robb leaning against the wall. He quirked a silvery eyebrow. “The captain let you off easy, did she?”