Page 99 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“Solskir, I said stop.”

The growl fades.

“Put away your claws. You’re not going to hurt anyone else.” My voice does a poor job of sounding commanding, but Ruskin obeys.

“Good,” I say, softening my tone. “Now come back to me. Solskir. Ruskin. Remember who you are.”

I risk taking another step forward, tentatively raising my arm until my hand is touching his cheek. Slowly, so slowly that I become aware of my own heartbeat in my ears, I lean up. Ruskin lets me, his lids hooding over his dark eyes as I press my lips to his.

At first, I don’t think he knows what to do with the kiss, but I persist, gently pressing, reassuring him that he can let me in. I dart my tongue out, lightly tracing it across his lips, and he releases something between a sigh and growl—yearning and unease battling each other. I hope that if I can just make him feel safe, this wild side of him will stop fighting for dominance.

“This isn’t you,” I murmur, sliding my arms cautiously around him, all the while wondering if I’m dancing with my own death.

But at last, he awakens under my touch, his arms sliding around me. He presses into the kiss, opening up to me, and our mouths find their old rhythm of give and take. Just like that, we feel right again, two pieces fitting together in harmony, and I can sense the shift in him as his body relaxes around me, like a taut bowstring that’s finally been released.

I gently draw back and see his pupils swell, returning to their normal size. It seems like now he can really see me.

“Ella,” he says. His throat is croaky from growling. He looks around himself, bewildered, his eyes widening as they take in the dead bodies.

“They enchanted you,” I explain. “You didn’t know what you were doing. It was just some old Unseelie magic, meant to?—”

“Bring out the true beast within,” Ruskin says. He steps back from me, looking horrified, and for the first time in days he removes his Unseelie features, trading the horns, sharp teeth, and cat eyes for the face of a Seelie High Fae. “Yes, I remember now,” he says, his voice tainted with bitterness. “Maidar explained moon orbs to me as a child. I should have known.”

My heartbeat finally slows, and I take a ragged breath, trying to process what just happened. There, standing among his bloody victims, I experience a surge of guilt—because as Ruskin changes his features, I actually feel relieved. When the moon orb took control of him, he was just like that monster from my nightmares—the hateful creature standing over a pile of slain bodies. Even if I knew I had to act, do what I could to bring him back, the sight of him gripped my body with the same fear that has me waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat.

I was terrified of him. Of Ruskin, the person who’s supposed to be my one true partner in this world. And I know it’s irrational, yet the memory of that feeling too easily feeds off my existing unease.

Then I remember that kiss, the way he responded to me whispering his name, how every touch between us reminds me of the undeniable connection we share. It’s as if my body is always calling to his, looking to be returned to its rightful place by his side. Is that part of him—the one that draws me closer, and makes me feel utterly cherished and safe—enough to chase away the other, more dangerous part? If I’m truly honest with myself, I still don’t know.

“Moon orb or not, you’ve placed me in a difficult position, Nephew.”

Lisinder receives us in his private chambers again, but he’s far from welcoming. His anger is even sharper than the wary hostility he showed us when we first arrived at court. He paces the room like a restless animal, eyebrows knitted in a permanent frown.

“I assure you, Uncle, causing you trouble with your court is one of the last things I wanted.”

“And yet here we are,” Lisinder shoots back. “Do you know how many Unseelie I have baying for your head?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, and the king notices.

“They won’t get it from me,” he says roughly. “But I can understand their anger. A foreign prince murdering our own? It rather stinks of the Riverwings again.”

“It’s not murder if he was tricked into it,” I argue, rather bravely, I think, considering Lisinder’s outrage. “They brought this on themselves.”

“Yes, Cragfoot vouches for you on that score. But don’t think everyone is as easily convinced as I am. As it is, I think your time here has run its course,” he says bluntly.

Ruskin inclines his head. “I agree.”

Maidar might have taken the time to confirm our story, but he’s in no fit state to keep training me. With our sudden unpopularity added into that mix, it seems we really have no reason to stay. It’s more uncomfortable than I expected, having Lisinder’s opinion of us lowered. His frustrated gaze carries an unpleasant weight as he stands before us.

“I suggest you leave now, this evening. The factions against you won’t waste time trying to challenge you again, and I’d rather avoid having to officially pardon you. Kin or not, it won’t sit well with them,” he says grimly.

I glance at Ruskin, wondering what’s going through his mind. A few nights ago he was starting to feel at home with this man and his family, but now his uncle is asking us to leave like thieves in the night. If I were Ruskin, I might feel angry or even ashamed, but there’s no telling what is going through his mind. He has his mask on, his stoic face giving nothing away as Lisinder waits for an answer.

“We will leave tonight, Uncle, as you wish.”

“It’s for the best,” the king adds, though it has a hollow ring to it.

As we step out of his chambers, I feel a stab of anger at the injustice of it all.

---