Page 106 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“I’m afraid that under Ruskin’s rule, things have gotten out of control. I know you’ve seen it yourself. He doesn’t know how to guide our people. If left unchecked, his decisions could lead to another war. A civil conflict that could tear this kingdom apart.”

My heart beats a frantic rhythm in my chest as Halima looks like she’s actually listening to Evanthe, considering her words. Of course, I realize, Halima won’t listen to me. She thinks I’m a distraction—that Ruskin has been making reckless and dangerous decisions, and that I’m to blame.

I look to Ruskin, but he says nothing, as if he thinks the cause is already lost with our friend. As if he couldn’t imagine a world where anyone would pick him as a ruler over his mother.

Evanthe steps towards the swordswoman, holding out her hands welcomingly.

“I can make sure this kingdom is returned to order without a single weapon needing to be lifted.”

Halima bows her head, her voice its usual solemn tone. “Your Highness, you’re right. I have indeed taken a vow to protect this realm against all threats, and I will uphold it until my dying day.”

I feel my heart start to break.

Then Halima lifts her sword and slashes it upwards.

The queen screams in shock, jumping back, but of course she’s not quick enough. Halima is a master swordswoman, and she’s left a deep gash from Evanthe’s left breast all the way up to her shoulder. Evanthe falls back against one of the pillars as the sliced flesh gapes horribly and blood blooms across her dress. A look of blank confusion flashes across her features as she tries to process the pain.

I don’t waste the moment, throwing myself towards Ruskin, who is sinking to his knees, his face ashen.

“Ruskin. Rus,” I murmur, putting my mouth to his ear in a mirror of the way he spoke to me on the mountain. “Stay with me. I need to tell you something.”

The clash of metal behind me tells me Evanthe is now battling Halima, but I’m confident the swordswoman has us covered. Ruskin’s eyes brighten at the sound of my voice, but he still looks so terribly drained. I take a deep breath and give him the lifeline that can save him.

“My true name is Lunasworn,” I whisper.

It’s like releasing a burden I didn’t even know I’d been carrying, opening a door that had been holding back a flood. Magic hums around us and Ruskin meets my gaze, lifting a hand to my cheek to let me know he’s heard me. Then I pour my magic into him.

I’d been afraid that I wouldn’t know what to do, but it just comes naturally, like breathing. I take my power and channel it, pushing along a connection that wasn’t there before, an open passage that links me to him like a bridge.

I watch the magic work before my eyes, restoring his color. In mere seconds he’s ready to rip his hands free of the broken bindings, standing up and pulling me with him.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice clear and strong again. An aura of magic brews around him like a vast storm, and I’m filled with hope.

The sound of metal puncturing metal rings in the air.

I turn and see Evanthe kneeling in front of Halima. Blood is still pouring from the queen’s chest, which rises and falls in an erratic rhythm. But there’s a sick look of determination on her face. Halima, meanwhile, is standing perfectly still… because a thick tendril of iron has pierced straight through her armor, impaling her heart.

I don’t know what sound I make, something between a scream and a strangled version of Halima’s name. I immediately summon my remaining magic to wrench the iron spike from her body. My friend falls to the floor with a thud, her sword clattering beside her.

Ruskin turns on Evanthe, and I feel the rush of power around us that tells me he’s about to make her regret ever waking up. I don’t care, though. The sound of magic fizzing and exploding is secondary to the gurgling breaths of Halima as I kneel beside her on the floor.

“Halima, Hal,” I say, fat tears sliding down my face. “Hold on, we’ll get you a healer.”

“No point,” Halima chokes. “Too much damage.”

She’s a professional. She knows she’s done for, and I see that realization shining in her eyes, shaping her usually stoic features.

“Tell me what I can do,” I say. She always has some practical advice, some straightforward solution. But for once, she doesn’t give me a direct answer.

“I’ve been stubborn,” she says, fighting for each word. Her hand clutches at thin air, and I realize what she wants. I pull her sword closer, folding her fingers around the handle, so she can feel the comfort of the pommel. “I’m sorry…I don’t think you’re a distraction, Eleanor.”

I push back tears, trying to be brave for her—like her.

“I knew you didn’t mean it,” I say.

“It will be your job now, Eleanor… You have to watch his back.”

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Her breaths are shallower now. Watching her struggle, when she’d always seemed so invincible, is almost too much to bear. I search around for something to tell her, something to send her into the next world with some peace.

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