The Iron Crown (The Darkest Court)

“Do you hear me, lad? You will sort this out. It’s gone on long enough.”

Properly chastised, I don’t speak up again. He waits a moment longer, then turns and rejoins the others. They ride away, leaving Lugh and me alone with nothing but the wide fields around us and the rapidly darkening sky above.

Once the sound of hoofbeats is gone, Lugh shifts on his bedroll. Of course the bastard was awake the whole time. “They like to meddle.”

“They worry about us.”

Lugh turns toward me, his brow pinched with irritation. “Do you want to talk?”

“No,” I admit. Lugh huffs and starts to roll away again, but freezes when I add, “But we need to.”

I wait, heart in my throat, and wonder if he’s as tired of this as I am. He must be, because a moment later, he grumbles, “If you start breakfast, I’ll start packing our shit up.”

It doesn’t take us long to find ourselves sitting across from each other, pointedly watching the fire’s flames while we quietly down our portion of the food and wait for the water to boil. I keep expecting Lugh to speak first, to accuse me of whatever he wants so I’ll have an opening to speak my side, but it doesn’t come. He just sits there, brooding, while I prepare our tea in equal misery.

When I hand Lugh his cup, he takes a breath of the fragrant steam rising up and his body tenses. “Peppermint?” he asks, the word strangely hoarse.

“For the headaches,” I murmur. “I haven’t been sleeping well and I know you haven’t either.”

Like that, he softens. A sigh escapes him and he drags a hand through his hair. We sip our tea and watch the fire burn down. I’m halfway done with my cup when Lugh asks, “Did it scare you? What I did in the village?”

I don’t even have to think about my response. “No.”

“Then why are you so angry with me for it? Because of the iron? I was careful, and—”

“No, Lugh. It wasn’t about the iron.” I remember my reaction that day and wince. “Well, maybe a little.”

“The shades then? I’ve seen them my whole life. I don’t think I can just make it stop.”

I clutch my mug tightly and wonder how words can fail me so easily when I’m not performing for others. “I’m not asking you to stop. That’s not who you are.”

“Then what’s this about, Keir?” He sounds exhausted, resigned in a way I don’t like.

“The shade who helped you find that blade... Did it reach out to you for help like the others you’ve talked about?”

He nods. “Yes. It offered to help and I chose to let it share those memories—”

“That’s why I was angry,” I interrupt. “You chose to let it in. You chose to let it do something to your body that you couldn’t control. That could hurt you.”

Lugh pauses, cup halfway to his mouth, eyes narrowed as he examines me. He points a finger toward my waist. “And how is that different than you using the belt? You give in to it the same way.”

Gods, it hurts to explain. It hurts to bare these little bits of myself, even to Lugh, who knows me better than anyone. After so long hiding everything, admitting this feels like treason. Feels like I’m crossing a line that she may use to separate us.

“Your mother offered me the belt because, as a human, I would be too weak to protect you in the future.”

Lugh’s eyes widen and the cup trembles as he lowers his hand, resting his arm on his knee as he stares at me. “What?”

“She and I discussed it after the incident with the lindworm. You were with the healers and she found me waiting outside. She said by saving you, I’d finally proven my worth. And she said if I wanted to stay by your side, I needed to become stronger.”

“I didn’t know. At the ceremony she acted like it was a reward—”

“There was no reason to tell anyone otherwise.” I take a breath and watch the last of the sticks in the fire collapse into a pile. “I chose to take the belt, Lugh. I chose it because it meant we would be together. Every time I use it, every time I give in, it’s to keep my promise of staying with you.”

Lugh, for all his self-effacement about his lack of intelligence, is not a stupid man. He doesn’t make me say what we both know—that his choice in the village was for a different reason. “Oh,” he mumbles at long last. “I... Oh.”

“You’re a prince of the Unseelie Court. You serve as the Sluagh’s Horned King. You have responsibilities I don’t, and never will, have. I may struggle to understand why you do things. I may get angry, but I won’t leave until you ask it of me. I just want you to be safe.” I finally look up from the fire and find Lugh’s hazel eyes already fixed on me. I can’t ask him to give up his magick. I can’t ask him to stop helping those who need him. And I would rather be with him, worrying about him, fearing for his safety, protecting him when I can, than choose to leave him.

“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” he says at last, so softly I almost miss it.