Page 66 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Yes,” I pant.

“You were amazing.” The earnestness in his voice warms me. He is not as sparse with his praise as Halima, but his often comes with strings attached. Now, at least, I can hear the simple gratitude in his voice.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Thorn,” Evanthe says, offering me a courteous nod. “Now we can proceed.”

I sense her eagerness to get the ritual started. It must feel strange to no longer be High Queen. Maybe she secretly agrees with Ruskin that things will be better when she wears the crown again, though she seems too diplomatic to say it aloud.

I step back, looking over my shoulder as I try to figure out how in the world I’m supposed to get out of this maze. It occurs to me that I should have laid down some wire that I could use to trace my way back out—but it’s too late for that now. Maybe if I concentrate on the metal tools in my workshop, I can use them as a sort of beacon to guide me back? It seems as good an option as any, but before I can give it a try, Ruskin catches my hand.

“Stay,” he says.

“What?” I stare at him, confused. “But everyone keeps going on about how secretive this thing is,” I say.

“It is. But I want you to stay. You’ve seen the stone now anyway, and this ceremony wouldn’t be happening without you.”

He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “I heard what you said, Ella. I want to include you more. Let me.”

I look over his shoulder at Evanthe. How does she feel about this? I can’t imagine she’s pleased her son has just invited a random human to watch one of their most private and sacred traditions. Sure enough, I see her face is conflicted—not angry, but not happy either.

“You need to ask your mother,” I mutter to Ruskin. “I won’t stay if she’s not comfortable with it.”

Ruskin nods and turns to speak with her. They step away for a moment, and I stand there, shifting awkwardly, as they have a conversation I can’t hear. But it’s only a minute or so later that Ruskin looks over and smiles at me. It’s one of his rare, genuine grins, and it quite dazzles me for a few seconds.

“It’s all right,” he says, crossing back over to me and taking my hand. “Trust me.”

I blink up at him, thinking about just how much I want to be able to trust him. I glance again at Evanthe, but she’s stepping towards the circle of columns, eyes on what stands in the center. I wonder what made her say yes so quickly, and then blush when it occurs to me she must know I’m something—someone—to Ruskin. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise.

Ruskin squeezes my hand and leads me towards the circle. We step through together, towards the central pillar. It’s huge, much taller than those that surround it. I look up and see where it disappears through a hole in the ceiling, darkness swallowing it up.

“Where does it go?” I ask.

“Up through the palace to the throne room,” Ruskin murmurs.

The ground in front of the pillar is inlaid with an eight-pointed star. Not just any star—the sun, I realize—a symbol of the Seelie Court.

There, protruding from the base of the of pillar like a huge step, is a massive block that stands out from the warm sand-colored rock surrounding it. It’s black as night, the bottomless surface swallowing up light—and I wonder where it came from, because it is so unlike everything else I have seen in the Seelie Kingdom.

By now, I’m used to feeling the magic in the air when I’m around someone or something that’s especially powerful, but this is beyond anything I’ve ever felt. As soon as we’re inside the circle, I can feel the stone’s power emanating from it, hitting me in the chest like deep throbs of sound.

“It’s time, Ruskin,” Evanthe says. He drops my hand and goes to kneel in front of the stone. Evanthe sweeps behind him in her glittering dress, placing an elegant hand on his shoulder. I crane my neck to see without moving nearer. I can sense that this is as close as I should come.

Ruskin lays his palm on the stone, closing his eyes, and the stone’s power throbs harder, like a heartbeat echoing around me. A scraping noise cuts through the air and a shaft of light pierces the darkness of the stone. It moves, and in its wake carves out letters one by one in the black surface, like a soldering iron burning a pattern into wood.

I recognize the name the shaft of light carves: Solskir. Ruskin’s true name. I realize his touch has revealed the hidden inscription that marks him out as High King.

But the beam of light keeps moving past the final letter, beginning to carve out another name.

G…a…t…i…

The inscription stops abruptly there, though I sense the name is not done. The beam of light flickers and crackles, then crosses through the four letters almost violently. I realize what they must be: the beginnings of Cebba’s true name, when she managed to get so close to taking the power of the High Monarch, and turning the stone to her will. I shiver at the thought, but Evanthe bends to trace her fingers lightly over the mangled name, and I wonder what she’s thinking. How strange it must be to wake up and learn not only of the death of your daughter but of her betrayal of everything you hold dear.

“Will you strike off your name?” Evanthe asks Ruskin. “It will be easier for you to do it. The stone dislikes unnecessary conflict.”

I listen carefully, fascinated, noting the way she talks about the stone like it’s alive.

“I think we should wait,” Ruskin says.

“For what?” Evanthe asks. I think I detect a note of concern in her voice.

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