Page 6 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

But either way it’s mine—mine to know, for better or worse.

I realize Tesha is watching me expectantly.

“Can you tell me what it is?” I ask.

“Tesha can tell her. For a price.”

“I already brought you a chicken,” I say hopefully.

“A higher price,” she says, a calculating tilt to her head.

My body chills a little, though perhaps I should’ve expected this.

“I see you really are part fae after all.” I’m unable to keep the coldness from my voice. Though I’ve had enough of fae deals and trickery to last a lifetime, here I am, considering striking yet another bargain.

“All right, then, what do you want?” I ask bluntly.

Tesha runs her fingers along the grooves in the floor, averting her gaze.

“A favor.” She turns to me, lifting her hands to her sides. “Tesha will save it for the right time.”

“That’s it? You can’t be more specific?”

“She will be able to help Tesha one day,” she says to me firmly. “Tesha only asks for that help.”

I don’t trust this strange creature that seems trapped between two worlds, two identities, but I also don’t think she has a reason to wish me harm or try to trap me. I consider the offer, constructing some wording that might put me in a safer position to agree.

“This favor—it cannot be a matter of life or death. And it cannot directly harm another, including myself. Those are my terms.” This covers the biggest hazards, at least.

She blinks and nods. “Tesha agrees. She will tell her the true name.”

She rises and crosses to the fireplace. I watch, fascinated, as she pulls out a bowl from a precarious tower of crockery and fills it with water from a jug, then places it in front of the fire. She goes to a chest of drawers next, pulling out a glinting piece of metal I realize is a needle once she’s holding it in front of the firelight. I watch as she pricks her finger with it and lets a crimson droplet fall into the bowl.

She holds the needle to the fire, sterilizing it, then turns to me.

“Now her,” she says, holding out the needle.

“For the ritual? Why does it need your blood too?”

“It needs fae blood. And hers.” She gestures with the needle again.

I kneel down so the bowl is sat between us and oblige, pricking my finger. As my blood swirls pink ribbons into the water, Tesha mutters words in a language I don’t understand. The old tongue, I guess.

Though the windows are all closed a gust of wind suddenly lances through the house, causing the flames to flare. As the air rushes past my ears I hear it, a whisper I somehow know is meant for me:

Lunasworn.

It feels like someone I’ve known all my life is calling for me, the echo the word leaves in my ears at once new and utterly familiar. I study the letters of it in my head, wrapping my mind around the shape of the word in an intimate embrace.

As the wind ebbs and the flames resume their usual crackling, I look to Tesha.

“Did you hear that too?”

Tesha nods. “The two in the ritual hear it.”

“But I thought true names were secret?” In Faerie it seemed like you were the only one who’d know your true name, but I realize now that’s impossible. A baby could hardly perform this ritual alone.

“The one who performs the ritual is…” She mutters a word in what I think must be the old tongue. I wonder for the first time if Tesha was born here, and where her parents came from.

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