Page 25 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Ruskin’s not telling the court about the power change,” I correct her.

Halima’s brows bunch in frustration. “He’s been hiding the fact he’s High King for two centuries. Now he’s going to put a new ruler on the throne and he’s not even going to tell them?”

“Well, she’s not exactly new, and he said it was simpler.” I shrug. “That telling them will cause more disruption than just reinstating Evanthe and putting everything back the way people think it’s been all along.”

Halima is hardly a cheerful person at any time, but now her face is fixed in an expression that seems dour even for her.

“It will certainly be more complicated when the truth gets out. If it’s stability he wants, how do you think the Seelie Court will feel to learn that their ruler has been deceiving them all these years?”

“About the same way I feel?” I offer. Halima ignores me, looking to Destan.

“Do you support this? The continuation of this farce? When I heard Eleanor had awoken Her Majesty, I thought we were done with all this nonsense.”

Destan waves a hand. “I can’t say I dwell much on politics. Ruskin will have critics whatever he decides to do.”

Rather than calming her down, this just seems to make Halima more annoyed. “It’s unwise,” she insists. “If he’s open about the situation now, he remains in control, but if this secrecy is exposed, his enemies will use it to undermine him with the court. A queen who isn’t really a queen. A king who pretends he’s less than he is. No one will understand it, and it will invite dissent.”

“Careful now, Halima,” Destan teases, wagging a finger. “That sounds dangerously like treason from a woman who’s sworn her sword to our king.”

If looks could kill, the one Halima gives Destan would spear him to the wall. The swordswoman turns abruptly, her armor clanking.

“It’s nearly time,” she grunts. “That’s why I came.”

Destan and I exchange bemused looks as we follow her out of the library, but before we pass through the door, Destan stops. He fingers the sleeve of my dress for a moment, tutting. It’s one of mine from home that I changed into before Ruskin and I left for Faerie. It’s plain and was always a bit too thin for the Styrland winters, but in the balmy Seelie Court, it’s just right. Not by Destan’s standards, however.

“I suppose it will have to do,” he says.

I don’t know what the Seelie Court has been told about my return, or my leaving, for that matter. I doubt either Ruskin or any of his close circle have divulged much, and I can sense the gossip furiously formulating on the High Fae’s tongues as I follow Destan and Halima into the orchard that doubles as the dining room of the Seelie Court.

“What’s the official story on Cebba?” I murmur to Destan as we move to the top of the hall, taking our seats in full view of everyone. I note that Ruskin isn’t here yet, and feel grateful for Halima’s intimidating presence by my side.

“She came back. Tried to kill Ruskin. He killed her first,” Destan summarizes with beautiful succinctness.

“Do they know about Fiona?” I whisper, aware that many fae ears are likely straining to hear our conversation.

Destan gives a little shake of his head, looking straight ahead at the gathered court as he replies under his breath. “Rivera and her Hunt friends have been imprisoned for colluding with Cebba. The specifics have been kept…vague.”

“That sounds like Ruskin,” I reply, mostly to myself.

As if speaking his name has summoned him, his tall frame appears in the arched entryway to the orchard. The hubbub of the gathered court dies down at his arrival, all eyes swiveling towards him. I take in the sight of him, the way he’s all muscle and power carefully contained. His broad shoulders taper down into a narrow waist, his stance casually unaffected, yet looking ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The warm breeze catches his thick, dark hair, gently ruffling it, and I have the sudden urge to run my fingers through it, to cup my hands around his strong jaw…

I swallow and try to banish the thoughts that have caught me so off guard. Even with everything that’s passed between us, it seems I still can’t help but find Ruskin mesmerizing.

“Ladies and lords of the Seelie Court,” he says, his voice somehow carrying clear as crystal through the room, despite the softness of his velvety voice. “For two centuries we have been in a state of waiting, missing a crucial piece of ourselves, never quite whole or at peace without our rightful ruler.”

A hum of muttered questions circulates the room. I understand the High Fae’s confusion. I’ve seen Ruskin with his court—he’s usually the most menacing version of himself, playing an unpredictable creature full of threats and malice. He still emanates an intimidating power, holding the room’s attention captive, but for once the sly flash of his teeth makes it seem like he wants to be here. He looks like he’s actually enjoying himself.

“Today that era comes to an end. My mother has awoken from her sleep at last.”

He steps aside to allow Evanthe to enter and the room erupts into gasps. Even I, who expected it, am impressed by her appearance. She’s changed since I saw her, into a high-collared dress of golden brocade, the skirts sweeping wide around her hips and then scooping into a long train behind her. On her head she wears the crown I remember from the apparition in Cebba’s labyrinth—a delicate, tasteful thing that, like many of the items in the Seelie Court, looks grown rather than crafted. When she gets closer, I see that the raised floral designs on her dress are in fact real flowers themselves, pressed to the surface of the material and preserved by magic.

After the initial exclamations of shock, the room is silent as Evanthe proceeds through it. The entire court watches, stunned, as she takes the most central seat at the head of the table where, until now, Ruskin had sat. Once there, she surveys them all, an unexpected expression on her face. She looks pleased to be there, I think, more openly so than Ruskin, and yet mixed in with it is a cool kind of strength—a sense of resolve. It makes me wonder exactly how weakened Evanthe has been by her experience with the iron, and whether she had to gird herself to make her appearance here this evening as we see her now: majestic and utterly self-possessed.

“It is good to see my court again,” she says, meeting the gaze of as many of her subjects as possible. “I have been away too long.”

The court responds with a wave of noise as the High Fae all rush to express their joy at Evanthe’s return, offering up toasts and cheers. Ruskin comes and sits beside me, Destan silently moving along a seat so he can do so. I throw Destan a look, knowing he’s putting us together on purpose, but he just smiles blithely at me and raises his goblet.

I wait patiently for the court’s show to end, knowing that many of these pronouncements and speeches are likely to be less than sincere. Glancing at Ruskin and Evanthe, I imagine they are just as skeptical as I am. We’re all well aware that some of the Seelie present couldn’t care less if Evanthe was on the throne, though I’m sure others are just glad she’s replacing her controversial son. Evanthe doesn’t need to have been around for the last two hundred years to remember that the Seelie High Fae like to play games, and this is one where the queen is suddenly back in the most powerful position on the board. That’s the cue for the fawning and flattery to begin.

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