The Iron Queen (The Iron Fey 3)

“When will you leave?” Oberon’s voice held no emotion. I took a quiet breath and hoped I wasn’t sending Ash and Puck straight to their deaths.

“Tonight.” As soon as I said it, I shivered violently and crossed my arms to hide my terror. “The sooner I go, the better. I guess it’s time.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

INTO THE IRON REALM

I folded the blanket carefully and placed it in the pack, next to the packages of dried fruit and nuts and the goatskin of water. Water, food, blanket, bedroll…was there anything else I needed for the camping trip to hell? I could think of a few purely human conveniences I’d kill to have right then—flashlight, aspirin, toilet paper—but Faery refused to humor my half-mortal side, so I’d have to do without.

Behind me, the tent flap opened, and Ash stood there, silhouetted against the tent wall and the eerie red light of the moon. “Ready?”

I flipped the bag shut and fumbled with the ties, cursing softly as my hands shook. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” I muttered, hoping he wouldn’t catch the tremor in my voice. The ties slipped from my fingers again, and I growled a curse.

The tent flaps closed, and a moment later his arms were around me, covering my shaking hands with his own. Closing my eyes, I relaxed into him as he bent close, his breath cool on my neck.

“I don’t want to be their assassin,” I whispered, leaning into him. He didn’t say anything, only fisted his hands over mine, drawing me closer. “I thought…when I killed Machina…I wouldn’t have to do anything like that ever again. I still have nightmares about it.” Sighing, I buried my face in his arm. “I’m not backing out. I know I have to do this, but…I’m not a killer, Ash.”

“I know,” he murmured against my skin. “And you’re not a killer. Look.”

Opening his fists, he held my hands in his, stroking my palms with his thumbs.

“Perfectly clean,” he said. “No stains, no blood. Trust me, if you could see mine…” He sighed and closed his fists again, curling his fingers around my own.

“I would save you from my fate, if I could,” he said, so soft I barely heard him, even as close as we were. “Let me kill the false king. I have so much blood on my hands, it wouldn’t matter.”

“You would do that?”

“If I can.”

I thought about it, content to feel his arms around me. “I guess…as long as the false king dies, it doesn’t matter who kills him, right?” Ash shrugged, but I felt uncomfortable with that decision. This was my quest. I had agreed to kill the false king. The responsibility was mine, and I didn’t want anyone to have to kill for me again, especially Ash.

Although, I still didn’t know how I was going to accomplish any of this when we got there. We didn’t have a magic Witchwood arrow this time. We just had…me. “Let’s not worry about it now,” I said, not wanting to think about it anymore. “We have to reach him first, anyway.”

“Which we’ll never do if you two keep groping each other every two seconds,” Puck announced, entering the room with a swooshing of tent flaps. Blushing, I stepped away from Ash and pretended to check my pack. Puck snorted. “If you two are quite ready,” he said, pushing back the cloth, “we’re all waiting on you.”

We left the tent, stepping into the cold, still night. My breath clouded the air, and sooty flakes landed on my face and hands. On each side, lining the way to the forest, the armies of Summer and Winter watched us leave, hundreds of fey eyes glowing in the darkness. Somewhere in the camp, a wyvern screeched, but other than that, everything was silent.

Mab and Oberon stood at the edge of the crowd, both as still as the trees themselves. Beyond the rulers, the glimmering forest of steel stretched away into darkness.

“We have given you everything we can,” Oberon said as we approached, his solemn voice echoing over the crowds. “From here on, we can only wish you luck, and wait. Everything is up to you now.”

Mab raised a hand, and a goblin stepped out of the crowd to stand before us, dressed in that leafy camouflage that made him look like a bush. “Snigg will take you to the edge of the forest where it becomes the Wasteland proper,” she rasped, her gaze lingering on Ash. “Beyond that, you’re on your own. None of our scouts have ever returned from venturing deeper.”

Oberon was still watching me, his green eyes unreadable in the shadows of his face. It seemed to me that the Erlking looked tired and haggard, but that could simply be a trick of the light. “Be careful, daughter,” he said in a voice meant only for me.

I sighed. That was as much fatherly affection Oberon was going to dole out.

“I will,” I told him, shifting my pack to my other shoulder. “And we won’t fail, I—” I barely stopped myself from saying “I swear,” not knowing whether I could keep that promise. “I won’t give up,” I finished instead. He gave me a brief nod. Ash bowed to his queen, and Puck grinned at Oberon, defiant to the end. I looked down at the goblin.

“Let’s go, Snigg.”

The goblin bobbed and shuffled away into the trees, becoming nearly invisible in the brush. With Ash and Puck at my side, I stepped into the forest, following the bobbing mound of vegetation through the trees, and the camp soon faded behind us.

“I RECOGNIZE THIS,” Ash muttered after several minutes of walking. Following the goblin scout, we ducked and wove around trees whose trunks looked like they’d been covered in mercury, shiny and metallic in the dappled light. “I think I know where we are.”

“Really.” Puck sounded sarcastic. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out, prince. Granted, none of the masses knew how close they were, either, so props for knowing your history.” He snorted. “You can bet both Oberon and Mab knew it, and deliberately didn’t let on. Typical.”

“Why?” I glanced around, seeing nothing unusual—beyond the strangeness of a completely metal forest, anyway. “Where are we?”

“This is Fomorian territory,” Ash said, narrowing his eyes. “We’re heading right for Mag Tuiredh.”

I blinked at Ash. “What’s Mag Tuiredh? What are Fomorians?”

“An ancient race of giants, princess,” Puck answered, ducking a low-hanging branch. “Semiaquatic, clannish and the ugliest bastards you’d ever have the misfortune of seeing. Deformed and twisted, the lot of them. I’m talking onearmed, one-eyed terrors with hooves growing out of their heads, limbs in places they’re not supposed to be. One of their queens even had a set of teeth on each of her—”

“Okay, I think I got it.” I shuddered, skirting a bush with metal thorns growing out of it like needles. “So, are these giant things hostile? Do you think they’ve been killed by the iron?”

“Oh, they were definitely hostile,” Puck continued cheerfully. “In fact, they were so hostile, we had a war with them, long, long ago. I think it was the only other time Summer and Winter cooperated, right prince? Oh, wait, you weren’t even around yet, were you?”

“They’re extinct, Meghan,” Ash said, ignoring Puck. “They’ve been extinct for centuries. Summer and Winter completely wiped them out. Mag Tuiredh was their city. It’s nothing but ruins now, and generally everyone avoids it. It’s an evil place, full of curses and unknown monsters. One of the darker places of the Nevernever.”

“And the perfect place for the new Iron King,” I mused.

We fell silent then, for the trees abruptly fell away and the Iron Kingdom stretched out before us.

I remembered the heart of Machina’s realm, the flat, cracked plateau, spiderwebbed with lava, and the endless railroad that led to the black tower. This was different, a blasted, rocky desert with huge, jagged outcroppings and uneven hills. Looking closer, I saw that some of the hills were huge piles of junk: tires, pipes, smashed cars, rusty barrels, satellite dishes, broken computers and laptops, even the wing of an airplane. Street lamps grew out of the rocky ground or atop distant outcroppings, glimmering faintly in the haze. The corroded red moon, balanced atop two pointed ridges, seemed closer than ever.

“Interesting,” Puck remarked, crossing his arms to his chest. “You know, I used to say Fomorian territory couldn’t get any worse than it was. Nice to know I can still be proven wrong once in a while.”

Ash stepped forward, gazing around the wasteland in silence. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but he was probably remembering our last trip into the Iron Kingdom. I wondered if he was already regretting his promise. Snigg the goblin gave a feeble cough, muttered an apology, and scurried back into the forest the way we’d come, leaving us to our fate. Suddenly alarmed, I looked harder at Ash and Puck, cursing myself for not realizing sooner. We were deep in the Iron Realm now; Ash and Puck would be feeling the effects of the land, the poison that would kill them if those amulets didn’t work.

“Are you two all right? Ash? Look at me.” I grabbed the prince’s arm and turned him toward me, peering into his face. His skin seemed paler than usual, and my stomach twisted. “The amulets aren’t working, are they? I knew it. We should go back.”

“No.” Ash put his hand over mine. “It’s fine, Meghan. They’re working well enough. I can still feel the iron, but it’s bearable. Not like before.”

“Are you sure?” When he nodded, I looked from him to Puck. “What about you?”

Puck shrugged. “It’s no Shiatsu massage, princess, but I’ll live.”

I glared at them. “I know faeries can’t lie, but you two better not be saying that just so I won’t worry.” Neither of them said anything, and my anger rose. “I mean it, you two.”

“Relax, princess.” Puck shrugged defensively. “They’re working, okay? I know I’m not supposed to feel great, but I don’t feel like my insides are about to crawl up my throat, either. I’ll live. I’ve been through worse.”

“And it doesn’t matter.” Ash faced me with an air of stubborn calm. “We’d still be here, regardless. We can’t go back now. Besides, we’re wasting time.”

“I agree,” came another voice, deeper in the Iron Realm. “The protective qualities of your amulets are limited, after all. The longer you stand around doing nothing, the shorter your time becomes.”

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. “Grimalkin,” I sighed, turning around. “Stop hiding. Where are you?”

The cat glanced up from a nearby rock, where nothing had been a second ago. “You,” he purred, regarding us lazily, “are late. Again.”

“Why are you here, Grim?”

“Is it not obvious?” Grimalkin yawned and looked at each of us in turn. “The same reason I am always here, human. To keep you from falling down a dark hole or wandering into a giant spider’s nest.”

“You can’t stay here,” I told him. “The iron will kill you and you don’t have an amulet.”