A Kiss of Iron

Contents Content Warnings Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Epilogue Author Note Acknowledgements Also by Clare Sager – Set in the Sabreverse About the Author Content Warnings Please note this book contains themes of an adult nature, including the following content: Violence and murder. References to child abuse (mentions of and trauma from aggression in childhood home; flashback to emotionally abusive incident). Threat of sexual assault. Killing of an animal (brief reference from childhood with little detail). Fat shaming (from secondary characters). For the women who are, behind their smiles, fucking furious. Pearlwort to save you from the faeries. Pearlwort to guard your heart. ALBIONIC FOLKLORE 1 The moon was a sliver in the sky, a few days from disappearing altogether—a few nights from the Wild Hunt riding. It gave me enough light to see by as my sabrecat, Vespera, picked through the undergrowth in silence. I rolled my hips with her gait, keeping my thighs loose: I didn’t need speed from her, yet. Her ears flicked and her black coat gleamed, a stark contrast to how dull my red hair had grown this past year. Beyond the trees and their shadows, the road was grey in the moonlight. And empty. I scowled and touched the butt of my pistol, like that would bring the prey I hunted. If we wanted something more than cabbage and courgette on our plates next week, it needed to. We were down to the last of the flour, and I hadn’t tasted meat in weeks. If I were a decent hunter, I’d come out in the day with bow and arrow. But that was a big if. I was a great shot, but an abysmal hunter. The butler, Horwich, had been passable, bringing rabbits to the table on the regular, but a slip on the ice last winter had ended his hunting career. So instead, I rode at night seeking a different kind of quarry, one that frequented balls… Like the one this evening. Once upon a time, the Viscountess Lady Katherine Ferrers had been invited to everything, but not anymore. She’d stopped accepting invitations so many years ago, drawing rooms were no longer abuzz with speculation. It had been a long while since anyone had called me lady anything. It was just Kat now. Still, I got to hear about these things. And although I couldn’t attend parties—wearing the same tatty gown every time would win me nothing but sneers—I could make use of them. And this way was much more practical. I cocked my head. Was that a sound? With a gloved hand to her shoulder, I stilled Vespera and held my breath, listening. At first, I was sure I must’ve imagined it. Wishful thinking. But a distant pounding thrummed through the air, felt more than heard, and beneath me Vespera coiled like a spring. After all these years, the adrenaline still kicked through me, making my skin tingle and my heart hammer. This was the only time I broke the rules, even my own. They were simple. Some places and actions were safe. Home. Tending our vegetables. Grooming Vespera. And other places and actions weren’t safe: almost everywhere and everything else. I didn’t go there or do those. Except for when I rode at night. Because it was less dangerous than the alternative, which was losing my home. Besides, I was clever about it. I crept through the night, and I knew all the best routes for escape. I hid behind a hood and mask. And I’d have wagered my sabrecat was faster than any other in Albion. There were a lot of reasons I’d never been caught. Thank the gods. After all, the sentence for highway robbery was death, especially for the infamous Wicked Lady, as the papers called her—called me. Thirty seconds after the initial thrum of paws on the road, came the squeak and rumble of a carriage in movement. Partygoers heading home. Drunk and tired. And with any luck, their coachman had entertained himself with a hip flask—that would make my job easier. Squeezing my thighs, I eased Vespera to the very edge of the forest. We’d wait here until the last possible moment when I’d block their way, pistols drawn— A shriek pierced the night. The air in my lungs stilled. Even Vespera, so well-trained for any situation or surprise, lifted her head. It almost sounded like a person. Almost. But I knew that sound. A fox. I peered out along the road. My quarry was a coach pulled by four sabrecats—that meant money. Lots of money. They could afford to pay my toll. Again, the screech raked through the forest’s darkness. Shit. If the coachman thought it was a woman screaming, he’d turn back. And then there would be no toll. This would all have been for nothing. Yes, there would be other nights, but tonight? It was my best bet—the lords and ladies travelling from the ball would be dripping in jewels. Although I wouldn’t get their full value from my fence, I’d get enough. With