Page 1 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

Chapter 1

“Hold on, Dad, we’re nearly there.”

The cart judders, its old axles not built for the way we hurtle down the uneven road. Parsley, the donkey I’ve commandeered from my friend Sanna, gives an unhappy snort, and I know she’s probably going as fast as she can too. But it still doesn’t feel fast enough.

I glance over my shoulder to check that the jolt didn’t disturb Dad. He’s still lying unconscious in the back, his head lolling to one side. It means the three-inch gash across his forehead is on full display, bracketed by a stream of blood reaching down his face.

I can still see in my mind’s eye the awful way his body lay slumped in his chair when I arrived at our cottage only to discover it ransacked. I’d been traveling for two weeks, and yet my feet forgot all their weariness as I’d rushed to his side. I didn’t know enough about head wounds to treat him; I only knew it wasn’t a good sign when he could only slur a few words to me before passing out.

The trees lining the road are thin and give way to the houses of our neighboring village. Eventually, we reach one house in particular—the home of the only person I know who might be able to help Dad. I tug on Parsley’s reins to slow her and, in one swift motion, leap from the cart, throwing myself at the door. My fist pounds on the wood until the door swings open to reveal Ruth, the woman who’s been our region’s main healer since Mom died.

I watch her eyes flash in recognition as I pull back the hood of my cloak, then her normally calm, friendly face twists in a way I struggle to recognize.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says, her voice unexpectedly harsh as she glances over my shoulder, checking to see who might’ve witnessed my arrival.

“What do you mean?” Ruth and I have known each other for years. Her mother, much older than mine, was a medicine woman who used to work with Mom on difficult cases back in the day. Sometimes we’d sit at the same table as they worked, me just a child, and Ruth watching her mother with careful eyes, taking everything in for the day she’d step into her shoes.

“The king’s looking for you,” Ruth explains under her breath. “We’re supposed to report any sightings of the ‘Gold Weaver.’” She shakes her head. “I can’t get caught up in this.”

When Ruth goes to close the door, I block it with my foot.

“It’s Dad,” I say, gesturing back to the cart where he’s just visible, curled up and wrapped in whatever blankets I could salvage from the cottage. “And you took an oath.”

At the sight of someone in need of help, Ruth looks torn. She bites her lip—weighing up the danger, I think—then she sighs deeply.

“All right, come in, quickly. I’ll have Danny carry him in.”

Ruth shoos her husband from the room once he’s laid Dad carefully down on the work bench inside.

“You better hope no one saw you,” she says as she unrolls a kit of surgical instruments and collects some glass bottles from a cupboard. “What happened?”

“Albrecht’s men,” I say through gritted teeth, my anger helping blunt some of my fear as she examines Dad’s injury. “Before he blacked out, Dad said something about them coming looking for me and my research. The whole house was wrecked.” I feel like kicking something, recalling how callously they’d torn the house apart—our windows smashed in and the door torn from its hinges. Digging through drawers and looking for papers, I could understand. But making our house unlivable when there’s still at least another month of winter…that was just meanness. Cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

“I thought I’d been careful enough on the road, but I suppose even just a woman traveling on her own was enough to start rumors about me being…back in the area,” I finish vaguely.

At first Ruth says nothing and I tense, wondering if I’ve made her change her mind about helping us. Maybe she’s about to throw us out. But she just pulls out a white cloth and opens a bottle that smells strongly of alcohol. As she starts to clean Dad’s wound, I feel her eyes slide across to me.

“Last I heard, you were set to be married to Albrecht,” she murmurs.

“That’s true,” I say. My voice is low, and I keep my eyes on Dad, trying not to give away any emotion. Thinking about my almost-wedding makes me think about my escape, which makes me think of…him. And I don’t want to think about him.

“Then you disappeared.”

When I say nothing, she forges ahead.

“Some people said you’d been killed—by Albrecht or one of your experiments. But then gossip spread from the castle, whispers that the fair folk were involved.”

“What else did these whispers say?” I ask, trying to sound neutral. I hadn’t dared ask any strangers on my travels for news in case it drew suspicion.

“They said you’d been taken by Ruskin Blackcoat.”

I freeze. It’s like she’s pierced me with the point of a knife. For two long weeks, I’ve tried to keep that name from my mind, tried to banish all thoughts of the handsome fae prince that it conjures. I’d done pretty well too. Since I stepped through the Monarch Gate, which took me from the realm of Faerie back into the damp, gray world of my homeland, I’ve kept at bay any thought of why I left. But now hearing his name brings it all rushing back.

“I wasn’t taken,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “I made a deal.”

Her hand stills, and she turns fully towards me.

“A deal? With Blackcoat? Eleanor, how could you be so?—”

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