Page 107 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Your parents would be proud of you, Hal,” I say, holding my voice as steady as I can. “You’re a warrior.”

A rare, true smile graces Halima’s lips, and then she grows still.

Chapter 32

Istagger to my feet, my heart broken, but my mind clear. Halima would want me to fight, she would want me make sure Evanthe can’t succeed in destroying this court that Halima gave her life to protect.

Magic flies around me, colliding with the pillars in an explosion of dust, making the ground quake with the eruption of iron from Evanthe and twisting tree roots from Ruskin. Their fight has taken them out of the column circle, dancing around each other in the gloom of the underground chamber. I see her taste for violence isn’t the only thing Cebba’s magic has given Evanthe—as well as the iron shoots, she crafts clouds of darkness, just like her daughter, sending them billowing towards Ruskin.

He waves the magic away with a swipe of his hand, then blocks an iron shoot with a wall of thick tree trunk, sprung up from the ground. I can see he’s pulling his punches, though, still reluctant to hurt his mother, even now. There are no offensive measures from him. He’s holding her off for now, but all it will take is him getting tired or letting his guard slip for an instant…

I can’t let her get any further if that happens.

I turn to the stone, its throbbing power beckoning me in. She’ll find a way through the trials eventually, with or without Ruskin’s help. And then the power of the High Monarch will allow her to pollute this whole kingdom with her iron poison.

But if I can find a way to protect the stone…

In the mountains of Unseelie, Maidar showed me how to tap into the memories of the ore running through the huge peaks. This stone came from those very same mountains. If it has the same seams of augium ore running through it, then maybe I can make contact, find a way to communicate with it, as the fae do when they take the trials.

It feels vaguely sacrilegious, reaching out with my magic to something so ancient and powerful, but I forge ahead, stepping up to its black surface, and searching deep for the metal which will help me find a connection.

The augium sparkles in my mind’s eye, buried inside the stone. I tap into it with my magic, trying to remember what Maidar said about finding the deepest layer of the thing so that I can truly “read” it.

At first the augium reacts easily to me. I get a brief sense of hundreds of hands being laid on this stone so that it can confer power on a line of monarchs stretching back centuries. But almost as soon as it comes to me, the memory is gone, blocked by a wall that resembles the one I built in my own mind in the mountains. Except this time it’s keeping the memories in, not out.

I press against the wall with my magic, but that only seems to strengthen the stone’s resolve to protect itself. I wonder if this is what it was like for Evanthe when she tried to retake the trials. She spoke about the stone resisting her—though her experience seemed a lot more stressful than this.

That’s when I see him: the creature from my nightmares—the Ruskin who only thirsts for blood and darkness, with yellow glowing eyes and a cold, evil heart. He stalks towards me, the stain of crimson on his bared teeth. The urge to run grips me, beating through my body with every thud of my heart.

I want to drive this monster away, to banish him from my life before he can rip it apart. Because that’s what monsters do, isn’t it? He will destroy me if I let him.

That’s a lie.

The voice comes from deep inside of me, fighting over the doubts the stone is trying to stoke.

This is a test.

The idea dances vaguely at the back of my mind, as if something is blocking me from thinking about it. The founding stone wants me to believe this is real, wants me to give in to my deepest fears. But I know that Ruskin is not a monster. I trust him, with my life and with my heart. He’s the person I gave my true name to, knowing he is worthy of that gift. The stone can’t make me forget that, any more than it can make me forget myself. Ruskin is, after all, a part of me. My fated soulmate.

Just like that, the urge to flee from the creature disappears. I stay standing—tall and strong—as the beastly distortion of Ruskin reaches me. It circles me with hungry eyes, its claws out.

“You can’t scare me,” I say. “You’re not him—you’re not real. I know him. I know myself, and I’m not afraid of something that doesn’t exist.”

The creature grins, extending a claw towards my cheek, but I don’t flinch.

Just a test. This is just a test.

I feel the monster’s breath hot on my skin, but choose to stare back at it, waiting for it to accept my point. I blink.

And the creature is gone. Vanished.

The wall that was keeping me out collapses, and the stone’s presence opens up to me. I’m ready for it, immediately reaching through to the presence beyond.

Don’t let Evanthe inscribe her name on the stone, I tell it. I don’t think it can understand words as such, but the power of the stone can certainly pick up the sentiment—how else would it test people so intensely, wheeling out their biggest insecurities and fears? I put the force of my intention behind the message and repeat it.

Don’t let Evanthe inscribe her name on the stone.

I see flashes of memory that I know don’t belong to me: Evanthe, kneeling in front of the stone—and Evanthe, producing iron shoots, snaking them across the floor of this chamber. Then I see the queen again, this time being thrown backwards from the stone, hitting the floor.

---