Page 72 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Which suggests things will only get worse until we find a way for you to stop the iron eruptions once and for all.”

Just like that, he’s putting the fate of his court in my hands. I feel the weight of it now, made all the heavier by my memories of the miners lying dead in the orchard, of Lady’s Petra’s son, pierced through. What if it’s Destan or Halima who can’t escape the iron next time? How could I ever forgive myself if they got hurt? There is cruelty in this court, but goodness too, and I can’t accept that this must be its fate—curse or not.

“All right,” I say. “I guess we’re going to the Unseelie Court.”

I hate horse riding. At a distance, the huge steeds of the fae are beautiful—majestic. But up here on their back is a different matter. I’m way too far from solid ground for one thing, and after four hours of riding, I’m so damn uncomfortable. I have a sudden yearning for Parsley, Sana’s donkey, and her cart. Even at high speeds they were more comfortable than this.

I shift in my saddle for what feels like the hundredth time, but it’s a lost cause. I’m just repositioning myself from one aching section of my behind to another. I sigh.

“Lean back a little,” Ruskin says, without looking at me. “You don’t need to be so poker straight all the time.”

“Oh, but I do, in case this animal decides it’s spotted something unfriendly in the woods and bolts.”

I peer into the leaves around us. Echoing voices and quiet giggles tell me we’re not truly alone—you never are in the forest—but so far Ruskin’s seemed confident that we’re safe.

And you’re not so vulnerable now, I remind myself. I can wield metal, I’ve had training and the sword I’ve been practicing with is currently firmly fixed to my hip—along with a knife in my boot and some bits and bobs of metal stuffed in my pockets. There’s no sense in not being prepared; I’ve learned that the hard way living in the palace, let alone setting out for more dangerous territory.

Leaving the Seelie Court behind was still harder than I expected, though. Evanthe accepted news of our departure with her usual grace. I don’t know if it will be easier or more difficult for her, keeping up appearances that she’s still High Queen without Ruskin around, but she insisted she was up to the challenge. At first, Destan thought we’d lost our minds when we told him, telling us we wouldn’t come back with our heads. Then he suddenly stopped as a thought seemed to occur to him. By the time we left he was eyeing Ruskin and me in a way I didn’t like, and then bid us goodbye while muttering something under his breath about the benefits of ‘alone time.’ I think my subsequent glare bounced right off him.

Halima on the other hand…

She was furious about our leaving. What made it worse was that her anger was stoic, professional—as if she was disappointed in us as much as she was angry. She waited outside the stables as we saddled up, her expression stormy, but she calmly stood to attention when Ruskin gave out her orders.

“If the situation worsens and you need us to return as soon as possible, send a coded message with a warded crow.”

For all his practice at ignoring other people’s feelings, Ruskin wasn’t fully able to brush off Halima’s. Instead, he clapped her on the back and told her that all this was for the best.

“Nothing is for the best, when a swordswoman isn’t allowed to fulfill her oath,” she bit out.

“I told you, you’re too conspicuous. I’m sorry, Hal.” Ruskin’s eyes were bright with sadness. He didn’t want this bitter parting, I could see that. But Halima was, for once, determined to express herself.

“Who will protect you in enemy territory? Who will protect the court from the curse?” she demanded.

“We don’t even know if there is a curse,” I pointed out.

Halima then turned her stare on me and I couldn’t help but quail. She didn’t say much after that, but watched Ruskin and I leave like she was watching her respect for us disintegrate into dust. It was enough to have me questioning whether leaving the Seelie Kingdom is the right thing to do…but I agreed to Ruskin’s plan, and I can’t back out of it now.

“How long until we get there?” I ask Ruskin, trying to distract myself.

“Nearly two days’ ride. Maybe longer, depending on our welcome committee.”

“Meaning?”

“If we can keep a low profile, avoid run-ins with anyone, then we’ll get to the court in good time.”

“You think that’s likely to happen?”

He looks over his shoulder at me, yellow cat eyes gleaming. We’re not in Unseelie territory yet, but Ruskin already has his more beastly features out. Apparently, with his horns and claws and fangs, he looks like any other Unseelie High Fae. Not that I have much of a point of comparison.

“The Unseelie are quicker to challenge. It’s their way—the fastest path to resolution, according to them.”

I notice the hint of irony in his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe the truth of it.

“Was your father like that?” I ask, wondering if he’ll refuse to answer the question. Every mention of Lucan up to this point has only ever been in passing.

“I don’t remember a lot about him. He died when I was young, but people tell me he was not exactly what the Seelie Court expected when they heard their queen was marrying an Unseelie prince. He didn’t fit the brutal picture of the Unseelie they had. According to my mother he was direct, open, and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. What I’ve heard most about him is that he was devoted to her. They might have married to secure the peace treaty, but they fell in love. I think my father would have done anything for her—would’ve turned his back on the Unseelie altogether if she’d asked him. As it was, I think he curbed a lot of his Unseelie tendencies while living at the Seelie Court.”

“Do you mind me asking how he died?”

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