Heart of Iron

by Ashley Poston

  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.

  She was so much more than he remembered, and he was exponentially less.

  He needed to find another way to explain who he was. She thought he was here to kill her. She had called him Rasovant’s Metal—he wanted to take a shower to scrub the filth of those words away.

  But anger would make him careless. That, at least, helped the rational part of him calm the rest.

  “Could you go find the exit code for the moonbay?” he asked E0S once he’d calmed down enough to think clearly. “You should be able to access it from the security station in the East Tower, at the end,” he added, recalling the map of the palace.

  E0S bleeped and whirled away.

  If he kept down this hallway, it should lead straight to the South Tower, where Ana’s rooms were located.

  As he passed another corridor, he heard a sharp shriek—like nails on a chalkboard.

  He winced, slowing to a stop.

  It was the same noise as on the Tsarina.

  Tilting his head to listen, he turned toward the signal. Across the hall. He followed it. Yes, he was sure it was the same signal—the same frequency. It came from an inconspicuous door tucked into the corner of the hallway.

  He touched the keypad, feeling for the microchip inside.

  With a twist of his wrist, he visualized the data inside it and put it into the correct order. The keypad clicked green.

  The door slid open and stepped inside, locking it again with a flick of his hand.

  The sound was stronger now, crackling like a mistuned radio frequency.

  The room looked like a study of some sort.

  It was small and cluttered, with inlaid bookshelves holding massive tomes. Books written in Erosian, the Ilidian tongue, Cercian—even Solani, he realized as he ran his fingers over the strange letters on the spines.

  Separating the books sat old globes.

  He spun Eros, and somehow he already knew it creaked.

  This was the Iron Adviser’s study—Lord Rasovant’s. He was not sure how he knew, but he was certain of it. Perhaps, when he was a Metal at the palace, he had been one of the Iron Adviser’s assistants. Perhaps he had helped the old man in the lab—the lab. Down the North Tower, at the end—

  He quickly stopped the globe.

  A Royal Guard’s uniform hung from a peg on the wall, not worn in years. Royal badges and medals adorned the breast pockets of someone quite accomplished. The Adviser had never been in the Royal Guard.

  A node of information ignited in the back of his head, culling data records from the newsfeeds. While Rasovant had not been in the Royal Guard, his son had. It was around the same time Emperor Nicholii II served. Why had Rasovant kept his son’s uniform after twenty years?

  A cold, strange feeling grew in his chest, but he rubbed it away.

  Captain? he ventured through the comm-link. No response—except that grating, popping sound. Curious, Di moved around the desk to the sleeping holo-screen.

  The signal became stronger, pulsing, jarring.

  “Metalhead, your signal’s dropping. Hello? –lo?”

  The screen flickered, and words typed out across the blank screen. They chilled him to his metal bones.

  YOU SHOULD HAVE LET HER BURN.

  He stumbled away from the desk, knocking over the Eros globe. It smashed on the floor.

  “Metalhead? Hello? Sunshine, turn me up louder,” Siege’s voice pierced through the signal’s shriek. “Di?”

  The sound in his head turned scraping, red, glaring—pain spiked through his programs. There was no doubt now—he knew this terrible sound like a dead man knew his murderer.

  It is here, he told the captain, hurrying to the door. The program that infected the ship.

  “Are you sure?”

  Impossibly—

  Through the noise in his head, his audio sensors alerted him to the sound of distant footsteps. Thirty, no, thirty-five feet away. Walking quickly. There were no other rooms on this end of the hallway. Whoever it was, was heading here.

  “I’m trapped,” he said aloud.

  The realization stabbed him like sharp needles in the back of his neck. If they caught him, they would arrest him, and there was an 83.47 percent chance that they would find out he was not quite human.

  The HIVE might be a mercy after what they would do to him.

  He tried to think of a plan, but the signal scraped across his thoughts like claws. Focus, he thought, but he could not—this was not like him.

  He should not be distracted by a signal.

  “I cannot think,” he told the captain. “I cannot—”

  “Di, calm down,” Siege said. “Use that metal head of yours. I know you can. You’re the smartest boy I know.”

  “I do not have many options—”

  “THINK.”

  He swallowed fearfully. Think. Hiding in the study was a poor choice—there was nowhere to hide. The bookshelves were impenetrable. But if he left now, he would be caught. He did not know—how was he supposed to—

  He searched the room for something—anything—that could help.

  Think.

  What if . . .

  His eyes strayed back to the Royal Guard uniform hanging from the peg.

  The footsteps were fifteen feet away and closing. This had a 32 percent chance of success, but what other option did he have? This was Ana-level reckless.

  Fitting, really.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and trousers and laced up the boots, shoving his stolen clothes under the desk.

  His processors recalculated his chances of success again.

  Twenty-three percent.

  Fifteen.

  That definitely was not helping.

  He switched off the calculations. He did not have time to listen to them.

  The uniform smelled strange—musty. And, so subtly—sage. The memory of standing in front of a long mirror, pinning badges onto his chest, straightening his collar. The fit of it snug around his shoulders, the itchiness of the sleeves. Lord Rasovant clapping him on the shoulder. Murmured words. Proud.

  A wave of dizziness swarmed over him, and he steadied himself against a shelf. That was not a Metal memory—not his. Was it?

  Pushing the memory down, he retied his hair and pushed it up into his hat, the screeching so loud he had to concentrate on walking.

 
He pressed his hand against the door and reached his consciousness into the keypad’s microchip again, forcing it to malfunction. The microchip gave a small pop, and his fingers twitched with the static. The door opened, and he hurried out.

  It snapped closed again as—

  Lord Rasovant turned the corner, coattails fluttering, his attention on the holo-pad in his hand.

  Di quickly angled his face away as he passed Rasovant, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. The Adviser did not even look up.

  “There has been a breach in security,” the Adviser told someone through a comm-link on his holo-pad. “Yes, lock the perimeter. Lord Tvani was found in the east garden, unconscious. I don’t care how you find the intruder, just find . . .” His voice faded as he closed himself into his study.

  Captain, I escaped, but I think I have been found out.

  “Goddess’s spark,” she cursed. “We’ll figure something else out. I have contacts I can—”

  No. If the malware is here, then I am not leaving without Ana, Di replied sternly.

  He broke out into a jog toward the South Tower. The uniform boots made almost soundless clips on the marble tile. He couldn’t escape the study quickly enough, but the scent of sage followed him like a haunting melody.

  Robb

  Robb hurried toward his mother’s chambers, feigning an upset stomach to not alarm the Messiers standing guard. Then again, he could probably punch one and they wouldn’t move. He hadn’t seen a single one so much as twitch.

  Where is the HIVE? he wondered absently. Does it have a central stationary base? What does it look l—

  A Royal Guard rounded the corner, and they slammed into each other. Robb stumbled back.

  “Watch where you’re—”

  The guard looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded.

  Robb’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, don’t I know—”

  Suddenly, the guard shoved him against the wall, pressing a forearm against his neck. Robb squeaked in protest. This was not how he’d imagined tonight going at all.

  “You brought her here, you put her in danger—after all she did for you on the Dossier,” the guard hissed, dark eyes flickering white.

  Realization hit Robb like a punch in the stomach. Goddess’s spark. “D09,” he wheezed, tugging at the humanoid Metal’s arm to try and get in a breath. “You’re mad—”

  “Mad? Robb, I am furious.”

  “Let me”—gasp—“explain!”

  “With that silver tongue of yours?”

  The Metal was literally squeezing the breath out of him. Robb tapped on his arm to try and get him to let go. His ears rang with the dizzying pressure building in his skull. “I brought you . . . back!”

  D09’s face pinched, and he let go.

  Robb dropped to his knees, coughing. “Goddess you’re strong.”

  “You? You put me in this body?” the not-Metal asked. Viewing it on a gurney was one thing, but to actually see the body moving was another. He looked—weirdly, strangely—human. And stood taller than Robb, too.

  He rubbed his neck. “I didn’t think it worked. . . . Kind of wished it didn’t now—”

  “Why did you do this to me?”

  Robb squinted up at the human Metal . . . person. “I thought you’d be thankful? Say, ‘Hey, Robb, thanks for saving my life! I appreciate it.’”

  “Thankful?” the Metal scoffed. “I am a great many things at the moment—”

  “I realized.”

  “—but thankful is not one of them.”

  Robb turned his eyes to the ceiling and took a deep, deep breath. “So you’d rather be dead?”

  “Metals do not die.”

  “Well, the way everyone mourned you, you’d think differently.”

  The Metal opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, frustrated. He took off his uniform cap and ran a hand through his hair, as if he was nervous.

  Robb frowned, sort of hating that D09 had better hair than him. And where had he gotten a Royal Guard uniform, anyway?

  “Robb,” D09 finally said, choosing his words carefully, “humor me for a minute, will you? You uploaded me into a new body without my knowledge. I had no instructions, no tutorials, nothing. I have had to learn it all. Can you imagine that?”

  Robb blinked. “Every day.”

  D09 gave him a withering look. “You mock me.”

  “As much as I can,” he agreed, absently stretching up his hand, and the Metal pulled him to his feet. “I didn’t have much time to think before I uploaded you, okay? I knew my mother was coming, and I didn’t see any other choice. I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I just did it. I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve been saying that a lot recently.”

  “That is usually what happens when you mess up,” replied the redhead. “Now excuse me—”

  Robb caught him by the forearm. “Wait. When my father left the palace, he took the Tsarina for a reason. He helped you save Ana, right? Do you know who set the fire? What set the fire?”

  “I cannot remember.”

  “Think, D09—”

  “Di,” he absently corrected, shrugging off Robb’s hand, “and I cannot remember.”

  “Try a little harder!”

  A muscle in the Metal’s jaw fluttered. Oh, good Goddess, this was too human for him. “I said I cannot—”

  A floating metal box screeched around a corner, pursued by a Messier.

  Robb’s jaw went slack. “Is that . . . ?”

  “Yes,” Di deadpanned.

  E0S beeped and slammed into Di’s chest, cowering into his arms. Di wrapped his arms around the bot protectively, as if it was his pet.

  The Messier came to a stop in front of them. It lowered its blazing blue gaze to the bot. “Thank you. Will you please hand over—”

  Di punched his free hand into the Messier’s chest, twisted, and pulled back. Its memory core came out with a sigh of wires and optics. He crushed it in his grip, and the Messier’s eyes dulled. It slumped to the floor.

  “Goddess.” Robb gave the Metal an incredulous look. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

  Di shook his free hand as if the impact had actually hurt. “It was chasing my can opener.”

  The small bot bleeped in agreement and flew out of Di’s arm, swirling around him.

  Di cocked his head. “Other Messiers are coming. Ten, perhaps twelve.” He narrowed a glare at the bot. “You got into trouble. I told you to find the exit code for the moonbay, not trouble.”

  It bleeped sadly in reply.

  Robb hoped he had heard right. “Moonbay codes? So you have a way out?”

  “Of course. Riggs parked a skysailer at the docks. Why?”

  “Because Jax is here in the palace, and I need to get him out before my mother does something terrible. I didn’t have a way to do that until you. You’re here for Ana, right?”

  Di looked annoyed. “No, I am here to tour the palace.”

  “Sarcasm, not the time.”

  “Sorry, the literary device is still new to me. I need to get Ana out of here—tonight. The malware is here. I can hear it—I just saw it.”

  “You what?”

  “It was terrifying,” he said, and turned his attention down the long hallway. Robb could hear the Messiers coming now, their boots clomping on the marble floor in striking precision. He stepped over the smashed Messier and followed Di down the hallway. The bot swirled around them, as if it was happy.

  Di glanced over to him. “I will meet you at the docks in three hours and twenty-seven minutes, unless something goes wrong.”

  “Why three hours and twenty-seven minutes?”

  “Because that is when the moonbay resets its docking permissions,” he replied as they came to an intersecting hallway. They stopped. Di was to go one way to Ana’s room, and he the other.

  “How do you know that?” Robb asked.

  “The bot told me.”

  “. . . Right. Three hours and twenty-seven minutes, and if you’re not there?”


  “Leave without me.”

  He didn’t like the idea, but he nodded anyway. Di could find his own way out—he’d found his own way in, after all.

  Robb started for his mother’s room—where he hoped Jax was being kept—when he heard his name called. He looked over his shoulder.

  The redhead smiled, and it was such a human moment, Robb faltered. “Thank you, Robb.”

  “For what?”

  “Saving me.”

  Then Ana’s Metal turned the corner and was gone.

  Jax

  These four walls were going to drive him mad.

  He tried another combination on the keypad, but it blinked red again. He kicked the door—and the Valerio guard on the other side kicked back. Ana could be dying right now for all he knew. By Erik’s knuckle-ringed hand.

  And here he was, locked up in Lady Valerio’s private chambers like a pet! Oh, if his father was alive, he would’ve had a field day with Jax’s predicament now.

  This is what happens when you try to defy your stars, he would say.

  The doorknob rattled, and he quickly retreated, raising his hands to fight.

  But it was the lady herself, followed by three of her private guards. “I hear you’ve been trying to escape,” she chided, taking a seat on the floral fainting couch. “Is my hospitality not good enough for you?”

  One of the Valerio guards waved a small remote beside Jax’s collar, and the incessant humming quieted.

  Jax rubbed his throat above the collar. “I don’t like being locked places,” he replied, his voice brittle and hoarse. It hurt to talk.

  “I doubt many do,” she replied, and dismissed the guards. They left him alone in the room with this madwoman.

  Jax shifted his weight from one foot to the other, growing anxious because there was only one reason why she’d come back from the gala.

  “So, you want me to read your stars?” Jax asked, trying to keep his voice level.

  The woman surveyed Jax. “I do not believe in magic, or superstitions, or some ‘Great Dark.’ I believe in what I can see. But my sons mean a great deal to me, and I aim to give them the best life I can. So, yes. Use whatever unholy power you have to read my future. To read my son’s legacy.”

  Singular or plural? It was hard to tell.