Page 8 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

It’s too late to turn back now, though. One of them lifts their arm to hail us, and it’s clear we’ve been seen.

“What are we going to do?” Dad whispers to me. I shake my head. How I wish that sometimes he would have the answers. But that spark and drive in him went out when Mom died. For a long time, the burden of making decisions for our family has fallen to me. It’s my job to keep us safe, and so far I’ve let Dad down. They beat him before because of me. They might do even worse to him now, if I don’t cooperate. But cooperating would mean going back to Albrecht, and that would be…no. That’s not an option. I try to think as Sanna’s donkey pulls us slowly closer to the soldiers.

“We don’t know they’re looking for me. Maybe it’s something unrelated,” I say under my breath, but the hope in my voice sounds false even to my ears. I adjust my hood, despite knowing it won’t help if we’re put under any real scrutiny.

“You do the talking,” I say. “I shouldn’t draw attention.”

As we get closer, I examine the soldiers’ clothes and equipment. I have one weapon in my arsenal, and that’s the unexpected ability I picked up in Faerie—the magic Tesha told me doesn’t come from this realm. But I’ve only tried it in Faerie, in an atmosphere thick with magic. And so far, it only works on gold. I’m disappointed, but hardly surprised, when I don’t see anything in gold on the soldiers. Men of their class don’t exactly go around decked out in the stuff.

But there is other metal, lots of it, from their stirrups to their swords. A thought sparks. Maybe…

“What’s the matter, sirs?” Dad greets them, doing a good job of sounding calm.

“We’re looking for a fugitive of the king,” the captain of the soldiers says as his horse shifts on its feet. His eyes are already on me and I realize almost immediately that there’s no way we’re avoiding suspicion here. If there’s any chance that I’m the right person, they’ll take me to the castle just in case, and then I’ll be back where I was.

Unless I can stop them. And there might be a way.

When I was imprisoned by Cebba I managed to turn another metal into gold. I can’t make that happen here—I would need to be holding something already made of gold, and have direct access to the metal on the soldiers, and that’s not possible right now. But aside from that there was a moment, just a brief one, where I thought I could manipulate regular metal in the same way I could its yellow counterpart. If there’s even a chance I was right about that, then it’s worth trying now. Between my freedom and my father, I have everything to lose, and I’m not going down without a fight.

I don’t hear what Dad says next, but I assume he’s trying to concoct some cover story for me. While he talks, I focus on the sword at the captain’s side, pouring my fear and desperation for survival into the mental connection.

Iron. It comes to me clear as the sun still climbing in the sky. Though the captain’s sword is sheathed, I somehow know exactly what it’s made of, and the reveal startles me. Iron hasn’t been used for centuries for weapons of this sort. Everyone uses steel. Unless this soldier is carrying around an antique, he’s been armed with an iron sword for a reason.

I don’t have time to discover if I can do more than read its composition, because in the next moment the captain unsheathes it and points the blade directly at me.

“It’s her, the Gold Weaver. Take her to the castle.”

“No!” Dad grabs the reins from me, yanking them hard enough to startle Parsley and set her braying. She charges forward a few feet, making the soldiers horses rear and scatter, but then she’s slowing as quickly as she bolted and the soldiers are closing back in around us.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I say in a soothing voice, still trying to come up with a solution before he ends up getting hurt again. “Let’s just?—”

My empty assurances die in my throat as there’s a scream from one of the soldiers at the back of group. He disappears from view, as if he’s been snatched from his horse and the others startle, looking around for the threat. Then a cry goes up that lifts my heart and squeezes it tight all at once…

“It’s Blackcoat!”

Chapter 3

Ruskin Blackcoat, the name I’ve been avoiding, silencing in my own mind, ever since leaving his realm behind. A sickening swirl of emotions threatens to overwhelm me, but my discomfort is nothing compared to the soldiers’ fear. They frantically back their horses up, heads jerking around for the source of the danger. I catch a glimpse of one of them lying on the ground, his neck at an odd angle, then look away as his horse panics and tramples over him. Another scream pierces the morning air.

They’re right to be terrified.

“Remember your weapons, for God’s sake!” the captain barks as he spins his horse around, putting his back to us in the cart. “He cannot withstand them!”

The fear of the soldiers is palpable around us, I can almost taste it on my tongue, and yet in that moment I feel afraid for another.

“Ruskin!” I shout into the air, not knowing where to direct it. “They have iron!”

The captain looks at me with betrayal in his eyes, but I ignore him. I’ve seen what cold iron can do to the fae. I wouldn’t set up anyone for that kind of torture.

There’s another cracking of bones and a horse’s shrieking whinny. I see a flash of black as the rows of soldiers thin. One swings his sword just in time to connect with the dark figure, only to have his weapon yanked from his hand.

Ruskin appears in front of the cart, standing between us and the captain, holding the iron sword he just liberated.

He doesn’t look at me, but I can’t help but stare at him. All the anger, all the pain, comes rushing back to me, hitting me like a tidal wave. And yet, he’s magnificent as ever, tall and strong, pulsing with power as he drags his bright, Unseelie eyes across the sword he’s holding.

“And what exactly is this supposed to do again?” he asks, balancing the blade across his palm. The captain’s eyes widen in horror. It’s not the right kind of iron, I realize, not the secret formula that makes it fatal to fae. Albrecht must’ve believed the stories and thought regular old iron would be enough to stop this fae demon from besting his men again.

As the captain begins to comprehend just how much danger they’re in, my own relief takes on a fearful edge. I open my mouth to say something—to warn the humans just like I warned Ruskin—but the fae prince is too fast.

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