Page 37 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Don’t touch her,” Ruskin says, each word an enraged growl.

Lady Petra whimpers, tears tracking down her face. She looks at Ruskin with pure venom, but cries out when the vines tighten their grip around her.

“Walk away,” Ruskin orders. “Or you’ll be joining your son.”

Looking terrified, she manages a nod, and the vines retract. Lady Petra stands there for a moment, massaging her wrists and quivering with loathing. Then Ruskin lets out what can only be called a snarl, and she jumps and scurries away. I feel just the tiniest bit sorry for her as she goes, having nothing but her anger to keep the devastation at bay.

A few fae have paused to observe the scene, but most who are still able to are trying to get as far away from the gallery and the memorial square as possible. Some haven’t gotten far, however, simply collapsing to the floor, while others are stumbling, as if drunk, in random directions. Halima’s there, but despite looking pale and sick herself, she’s powering through, hoisting a fae under each arm to carry them away. I find myself wondering if this court would survive without people like her, so fiercely dedicated to holding it together. Perhaps that fierce devotion is why she can see so clearly where the cracks are.

“We should help,” I say, nodding towards a fae clutching the nearest wall to help him lurch forward a few steps.

“I will,” Ruskin replies, but he doesn’t follow my gaze. Instead, his eyes are fixed on me. “But first, are you all right?”

Before I can stop him, he cups my cheek in his hand, his eyes darting over my face, examining me. I feel heat rise in my cheeks, but I don’t shake him off.

“Thank you,” I say. “I didn’t think she’d go for me like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. I would never let her lay a hand on you.” His eyes burn fiercely at the thought, then soften. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “But we should get going before the iron overpowers you too.” He’s strong, but strength just means he can bear the pain better than the others. It doesn’t stop him from feeling it. Suffering from it. And even with the destruction around me, I feel a prickle of worry for him.

“Don’t tell me you’re concerned for me, Iron Tamer,” he says, but his voice isn’t mocking, more wistful—like he’s voicing a hope. It’s too painful to hear, and I gently remove his hand from my face.

We set about helping the fallen fae up, pairing them with fae who are steadier on their feet to help clear the area faster. As we work, my mind turns over the vivid images of the attack. I’m so used to them being the ones in power, the ones who make others afraid. And even now, I still consider most of the fae dangerous, untrustworthy. Yet the memory of their faces as the iron advanced on them stick with me—the pain and the fear. And beyond all that, the dread. Because we all know now that this could happen again, without anyone being able to do a thing to prevent it. The only weapon that seems to be any use against it…is me.

This isn’t my world, this isn’t my problem to fix, so why is there a voice at the back of my mind, growing stronger by the moment, saying that it is?

Ruskin comes up behind me as I hand a fae over to their human servant.

“I should thank you for saving my subjects,” he murmurs, his closeness and the tone of his voice making it feel too intimate. I spin round.

“I didn’t save them. Not really. The iron’s still there and I took too long to stop the spread.”

“But you’re the only one who could do anything at all. There are many who are only alive now because of you. You mustn’t downplay that.”

He looks down at me in a way that renders me wordless for a moment.

“Once again, Eleanor, the fate of this court finds itself in your hands,” he says, moving closer to me again, until there’s just a whisper of space between us.

I’m exhausted, worn out in all the ways I could imagine, and then some more. At this moment, part of me thinks it would be easier if I just let him in—allow him to step over all my carefully constructed walls. But I need to be smarter than that.

“I know what you’re doing,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “And what is that?”

An hour before all this, I was on my way home, riding towards the gate that would take me away from Faerie forever. And now…

“You’re trying to emphasize all the reasons I should stay,” I say.

“Not all the reasons,” he says, and something in his voice sends a bolt of energy through my body. It dazzles me enough that I let him lift his hand and touch my arm, ghosting his fingers along it with a touch so light it leaves goose bumps in its wake. “Besides, wouldn’t I be a fool if I didn’t? You’re the only who can help us right now. What kind of ruler would I be if I didn’t do what was best for my kingdom?” His hand dances from my wrist up to my face, taking my chin between his fingers. My heart speeds up, and I’m very conscious that he’s touching me like this in front of everyone—and yet he doesn’t seem to care, his eyes locked only on me. “Think of the good you could do, and all the things you could discover. Your power is still so untested.” He lifts my chin, angling it so that he’s looking directly into my eyes. A familiar hunger wakes in me. I can’t pull away.

“I would so dearly love you to stay,” he says, the seductive lilt to his words making my knees weak.

As persuasive as he’s being, as easily as he makes me melt in his hands, I’m able to remember that what Ruskin wants isn’t the same as what I want. Even if he would like me to stay for…other reasons, his priority is the Seelie. Not me. Not our relationship. Those always have to come second to the secrets and machinations he thinks are so necessary. That should be enough to remind me that Ruskin and I are over. If I decided to stay it would be for practical reasons only.

That doesn’t mean it’s safe, though.

It’s not the iron or the deadly politics of the court that I worry about. It’s him. I feel him pulling at my strings, drawing me closer to a dangerous pit of emotions I’m trying to escape.

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