Page 69 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“I need to see.”

I climb over the iron, knowing he can’t follow, squeezing through a gap to reach the dining hall. Even though the immediate danger is gone, my heart thuds ominously. I wriggle down past another tendril and realize from a nearby tuft of leaves that I’m fully inside the orchard now. It’s hard to tell; the place is just an explosion of contorted metal now. I search for sense in the chaos, some shape of the space I walked in a week ago. There—a pile of dirt which could’ve been an excavation point, and beside it…

I force myself to look at blue-black arm protruding from the earth, then, across from it, a mess of bloody, matted hair belonging to another miner. I step down between the iron, and my foot nudges a shovel lying in a pool of blood.

They didn’t get out in time.

Would my armor have helped if they’d had it? Would it have protected them, conserved their strength so they could’ve escaped the orchard? They must have been slowed by iron sickness. I could have prevented that.

I feel useless. Worse—I feel like I’m to blame. I crawl back out between the tendrils, hating every last inch of the cold, menacing stuff, stopping to wipe tears from my face on the way.

Ruskin waits for me outside, his face solemn.

“I’m sorry,” I say, even though it’s not him I really want to apologize to. The people who deserve to hear it are beyond me now.

“Ella,” he says softly, taking my chin in his hand. “You did everything you could.”

But I didn’t. I failed. I could have done better, should have—must do better in the future, or we’re all doomed. Who knows where the spread of iron will stop? Will it take over the whole kingdom, poisoning the Seelie population one awful attack at a time? No, I won’t let that happen. I can find a way to fix this. I will.

This section of the palace is empty now, save for the bodies, and Ruskin leads me through it. His complexion tells me he’s had enough of being around the metal too, though he relaxes a little as the shoots of iron taper off.

We pass a courtyard covered by a pergola, where a large group of High Fae has sheltered from the attack.

“The iron has struck again. It seeks to poison us all.” A familiar reedy voice carried above those gathered—Ephor Jorna. “The time has come to heed the prophecies!”

I slow down to listen to what she’s saying, but Ruskin’s hand lands at my back, trying to steer me away. “Leave it,” he says. “You need to rest now.”

I know why he doesn’t want me listening. It’s because some of the fae think I’m responsible for this. I ignore him, pulling away.

“You should go and find your mother,” I say, knowing this is one of the few things that could redirect him. “Make sure Queen Evanthe is okay.”

He immediately looks around for her, brows furrowing when it’s clear she’s not with the huddled mass of fae.

“I’ll be back,” he says, heading down a corridor towards his quarters. The moment he’s out of sight, I step towards the others.

“How long will we sit idly by?” cries Jorna. “How long will we ignore the guidance we’ve been given? The scrolls speak of a curse, and yet we’re not seeking out its root.”

There’s muttering, but no one dares speak aloud the question that Jorna’s words imply: What about the prince and queen, why aren’t they doing anything? To my relief, a voice speaks out above the crowd.

“Just because you aren’t privy to the plans of the monarch, Ephor Jorna, does not mean that no one has started an investigation,” says Halima.

Encouraged noises rise from some of the fae, and Jorna looks suitably cowed.

“My miners can remove the iron,” pipes up Lord Hadeus. “But they certainly can’t undo this curse. We need more than Low Fae to save this court.”

I feel a surge of disgust at his phrasing.

“Your miners are dead, Lord Hadeus,” I spit, drawing the attention of the High Fae. “They were all killed by the iron when they were too overworked and sick from it to escape.”

I stare at him, willing him to show some remorse. He simply looks back at me with empty eyes.

“What about her?” says a fae lord suddenly, pointing at me. “I’ve heard talk that she could be the cause of all this.”

“No,” replies the blue-haired fae lady I’ve seen always chattering at functions. I’m surprised as she comes to my defense. “She is the iron tamer, the one who stopped this cursed thing. I saw it. We all did.”

“How, though?” asks another fae I remember Ruskin addressing as Lady Naniva. “How is she the only one who can affect this magic? A human. Maybe there’s a reason it obeys her,” she adds darkly.

Jorna looks put out that she’s lost the attention of the crowd, and she tries to recapture it now.

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