Page 22 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“It seems that you have become friends.”

Ruskin appears, for once, unsure what to say. I answer for him, glad of my ability to gloss over the truth.

“Yes, good friends, my Lady. Ruskin helped me solve a problem of my own back in Styrland, and, of course, I was happy to return the favor.”

Ruskin gives me a look, and I know he’s remembering exactly how unhappy I was to do both of the tasks he’s asked of me.

Evanthe’s smile widens.

“Well, Ruskin, I see two hundred years have changed your outlook. I couldn’t get you to give humanity the time of day when I was trying to draft my treaty.”

“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that,” Ruskin says, shifting uncomfortably. I don’t immediately understand what Evanthe is referencing, but Ruskin’s reaction piques my interest.

“A treaty, my Lady?” I ask, aiming for polite curiosity.

“Yes. That was why I went to Styrland at first. I’d been eager to build bridges with the humans as I had done with our Unseelie kin. Ruskin was utterly against the idea, convinced that I was wasting my time reaching out to a society he deemed so…different to ours. But in his defense, most of the Seelie Court felt the same. And he’s clearly changed his mind since then.”

She studies me with a knowing glint in her eye. I suspect she’s already guessed there may be more between us than just friendship, and I hardly disprove the theory when I glare at Ruskin.

“Was ‘different’ the exact word you used, my Lord?” I emphasize the formal address, trying to balance my anger with making a good impression in front of Evanthe.

“No,” Ruskin says, and I can tell he’s weighing up how honest to be. He could dodge answering the question fully—but he seems to realize, entirely correctly, that that would only make me angrier. “I believe I said ‘inferior.’”

I nod, my suspicions confirmed. So not only did he genuinely believe my people were lesser than his, but he—like Cebba—wanted to stop his mother making peace with them. Cebba went about it in a more violent and destructive way by damning the leader of Styrland and her own mother, but Ruskin’s stance still hurts.

“Let’s not forget that soon after that, I decided a treaty with the human realm was a sensible proposition after all.” Ruskin’s tone is clipped, like he thinks this offsets any guilt on his part, like the past is something that can just be brushed away. But I think those old opinions aren’t as far gone as he’s trying to imply.

It would explain why it’s so easy for him to make his deals with humans, to kill those soldiers back in Styrland like they were no more than livestock. It would all make sense, if he values human lives less than fae ones. It’s hard to imagine you can really shake centuries of prejudice just like that. And even if there’s one, notable exception, in his ranking of our value, knowing Ruskin probably considers me more important than the rest of my species doesn’t really make me feel better.

“It seems much has changed in my absence,” Evanthe says evenly. I think she’s trying to diplomatically banish the awkward silence now stalling the conversation. From everything I’ve heard about her, from Ruskin and others, she’s the epitome of what you’d want in a queen—regal and fair.

“And much is about to change again,” Ruskin says. “The court will be overjoyed when they hear of your recovery. We can throw a banquet this evening to announce it.”

I’ve never heard of Ruskin actually looking forward to dining with the Seelie Court, but he seems even more excited by the idea than Evanthe. I notice dark shadows under her pretty eyes, and guess that she still feels a bit fragile after her ordeal.

“So soon?” I ask, hoping to hint to Ruskin that maybe he should let his mother rest.

Ruskin’s face shifts with understanding.

“I know it seems abrupt, but it’s important for stability that the court learns the High Queen has returned from the woman herself.”

“Except I’m not High Queen anymore,” Evanthe interjects. I guess Ruskin has explained to her how he had to remove her to put his name on the founding stone. No doubt she could feel it herself—the lack of connection she used to have with the realm.

“Only in the technical sense,” he says.

“You’re not planning on telling them?” I ask, finding myself surprised. I knew that he’d kept up the ruse all this time that he was the prince, not the king, but that was because he’d wanted to avoid divisions in the court, knowing there were some who would object to a half-Unseelie king. Now seems like the time to come clean, when he can assure everyone that Evanthe will be taking back over the throne.

“There’s no need,” Ruskin says confidently. “The transition of power will be smoother if they believe there is no transition, just mother returning to her rightful spot on the throne. After all,” he says, addressing Evanthe, “we will reinstate you on the stone soon enough, once you’ve got your strength back.”

“And my lack of High Monarch powers in the meantime?” she asks, sounding skeptical. “Won’t the court be suspicious?”

“We can attribute that to you still needing time to regain full strength after your ordeal. That’s true, at least.”

Something crosses Evanthe’s face, then disappears again, and I sense Evanthe has doubts, though I don’t know if they’re about the deception, the banquet, or her own capabilities after her attack.

“I imagine you may want a moment to yourself now, my Lady, to let it all sink in?” I suggest.

She throws me a grateful look. “Yes, thank you, Miss Thorn. I think that would be wise.”

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