Page 83 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

Ruskin’s footsteps sound unnaturally loud in the silence. The court is perfectly still as they eagerly watch him travel down to the pit. He looks utterly calm and collected—his back straight and sword held casually at his side, and I can’t help but feel a surge of pride at his bravery. It almost eclipses the apprehension I feel for the upcoming tests—his and my own.

Ruskin positions himself opposite the door, but slightly to one side. Smart, I think to myself. He wants some time to take a look at whatever comes through the gate before it sees him.

A rumbling noise sounds from somewhere below and our audience breaks their silence, starting to erupt into shouts of encouragement or mockery. It seems an even split as to who wants to see Ruskin win and who wants to see him laid low.

The rumbling grows louder, until a figure taller even than Ruskin comes barreling through the gate, shoving it aside with a clang.

For the first time I feel a spike of fear for him.

The creature has the bulging muscles of a strongman, covered all over in thick, coarse black hair. Its head is that of a bull, but with long teeth that resemble tusks, curving down past its retracted lips, bared in a snarl. On top it is crowned with a pair of huge horns, the sharp ends tipped with polished metal, making them glint like arrowheads.

A Minotaur. They’re going to have us fight a Minotaur.

My pulse beats harder for Ruskin as it comes barreling out of the gate, but he’s positioned himself just right to catch the beast by surprise, swiping his sword upwards so that it catches the Minotaur in the shoulder as it passes. The animal releases a bellow that rolls up to us like thunder, pivoting on its hooves more nimbly than I expected, and charging at Ruskin. Its horns are down, aimed right at Ruskin’s heart, but Ruskin throws his blade up and catches them with a clang. I now see the metal on its horns isn’t just for decoration, it acts as armor and weaponry at the same time.

I feel a flash of relief for myself, because it’s given me an idea. I start formulating a plan involving those metal-tipped horns. I’m pretty sure that with a forceful bit of magic, I might be able to incapacitate the beast before it even gets close to me.

Ruskin’s sword is still interlocked with the horns, and he uses the blade to shove the animal backwards, sending it stumbling. The beast comes at him again and Ruskin spins gracefully to meet the Minotaur’s horns once more, the chamber ringing with the clang of metal against metal.

Seeing him like this, it’s clear to me just how easy Ruskin was on me when we were training. The Minotaur is fast and fierce, but Ruskin is a fine match for him. The bull comes at him relentlessly in a stream of vicious charges. But Ruskin keeps driving him back. After a few minutes of brutal assault, however, with the clank of metal and horn filling the cavern, I start to wonder if they’re too evenly matched. Ruskin hasn’t yet gone on the offense, and I worry that he’s starting to tire. The Minotaur’s strikes keep getting closer.

And then it happens—at the next attack the animal manages to graze him, scoring a bloody line into Ruskin’s shoulder with one of his tusks. Ruskin grunts in pain and I imagine I can feel it too, my stomach clenching with the sting of it. But the wound seems to push Ruskin into action, his face twisting in determination. As he throws his hand out, I realize he’s ready to finish this. The floor of the pit erupts, splitting open to make way for a swirl of curling tree branches. They’re lean and wiry, shooting upwards fast enough to catch hold of the Minotaur’s horns and tug it down. The beast jerks its head to snap the branches, but more just spring up in their place, dragging the beast’s head to rest on the ground. And then the branches double, wrapping themselves around the Minotaur as it thrashes, encasing it like a body waiting for burial. Eventually it stops fighting, trapped against the earth with strips of tough, sinewy wood.

Ruskin rests a foot on the fallen animal, looking up from the pit to the gathered court and Lisinder.

“Are you satisfied, Uncle?” he calls, though it sounds more playful than confrontational. Ruskin believes, as I also suspect, that the king can be held to his word.

“For now,” Lisinder replies neutrally, beckoning Ruskin back up the stairs.

I can’t help but draw close to Ruskin once he’s out of the pit. I feel safer now I know he’s safe, even if I still have my own fight to face.

“Did you drag that out on purpose?” I murmur as Ruskin sheathes his sword.

He shrugs. “I had to give them a show, to prove I was worthy.” His eyes glimmer with mischief. “That, and it took me a while to get the trees here. It’s a long way from the mountaintop to down here, and this place hasn’t got a lot of flora to begin with.”

I straighten up, still nervous, but not completely terrified. I’ve seen what my opponent is like now, have some idea of its weaknesses, and a fighting plan of my own.

Then I see movement in the pit below. Low Fae have come out of the gate and are pulling the Minotaur free of Ruskin’s branches, dragging it back out of the pit. Something occurs to me. Something not good.

I look up at Lisinder, my dread rising.

“Will I not face the same test?” I ask, trying to keep the panic from my voice.

The king tilts his head, his yellow eyes gleaming.

“Now where would the challenge be in that?”

Any confidence I had drains away. I have no idea what’s coming through that gate, and only a few days’ worth of weapons training to hold it at bay until I can find a way to beat it with my magic. If it can be beaten. I’ll have a sword, but I don’t have fae strength or speed on my side. Surely, I’m no match for whatever awaits me.

Ruskin must see my expression, because he takes my hand.

“Eleanor, look at me,” he orders as the excited rumble of the crowd begins to build again. Their curiosity was piqued at the news of my powers, and I guess they want to see them in action. Panic spikes within me at the noise, but I try to focus on Ruskin, his eyes boring into mine. “Listen. If it gets too dangerous, I will intervene. I won’t let you get hurt.”

But I can only imagine how the Unseelie Court would react to us violating one of their sacred traditions. I need to do this on my own and I need to win.

Or at least, they need to think I’m doing it on my own.

The idea comes to me in a flash. Ruskin can give me some of his power. He’s done it before. Yes, that time in the tent it wasn’t consciously, but if I asked him, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard for him to manage it again. Especially if he knows I need it to survive.

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