Page 100 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“You don’t think it’s worth staying, to try to clear your name?” I ask.

“Why?” says Ruskin, his voice flat as he turns away from me. “These aren’t my people, and I have nothing to prove to them.”

It hurts to hear him say it, because even if it’s not technically a lie, I know it’s not how he truly feels. Nevertheless, when I think of the ferocity of the attack, how Ruskin was so unhinged and bloodthirsty, I wonder if this is the best place for him anyway. Perhaps I was wrong about him needing to find balance. Perhaps all we were meant to get out of this trip was a stronger version of my magic. All I know is that when we leave the Unseelie Court, I can’t help but think we leave unfinished business too.

Chapter 30

“Not far now,” Ruskin assures me as we wind through the trees.

We traveled as quickly as we could, both of us eager to get back to Seelie. As we tracked the way across the border, I thought about how our time at the Unseelie Court has untethered us, so that even the chaos of the Seelie Kingdom seems preferable. At least I have some idea of where we stand there, and while I hope we’re leaving Unseelie having gained something, every now and again Ruskin turns towards me and I catch a flash of that person he was during the attack. I know I still love him, I know I’d trust him with my life, and yet I still harbor this fear, burning quietly but persistently, about that side of him. It’s an obstacle I know I need to find a way to work through, because we’ve come too far and been through too much for it to keep haunting me like this. I can only hope it will be easier to dispel when we’re back on more familiar territory.

I believe we’re both relieved when the towers of the Seelie Court come into view over the treetops of the Emerald Forest. We pick up the pace on our horses—even I’m getting the hang of it after days of straight travel—and trot onwards.

I expected the animals to be eager for home and the comforts of their stables, but while they move faster now that we’re nearly there, I can’t help noticing that they seem restless, anxious—shaking their heads and whinnying as if there’s a predator on their heels. I’m on the alert for an angry gryphon or hungry troll, but their skittishness worsens after we leave the forest, and the nearer we are to the palace.

The problem is obvious the moment we crest a hill and see the front of the building.

A fat, gray tendril of iron snakes its way out of the main entrance, and it’s not alone. Out of windows and on balconies more iron juts, dark and terrible, in twisting shoots and jagged shards. My stomach drops. It reminds me of the explosion of silver I created in the valley when clumps of metal impaled Ruskin’s bower. The palace and connected court look like that shelter, only on a huge scale.

Even from here, I can sense the evil radiating off the metal. Ruskin and I share an appalled look.

We shouldn’t have left.

We urge our horses into a gallop. I no longer care about the risk of falling off. I’m much more afraid of what we’ll find inside. But before we can leave the hill behind, a group of High Fae on their own horses ride up. They block our way to the palace, forcing us to pull up short, and my stomach twists when I see Hadeus at the head of the group.

“What’s going on here?” Ruskin demands.

“The prophecy has come to pass, Your Highness,” says Jorna, who urges her horse to the front of the other riders. She still has the same wild-eyed look about her, only now with a triumphant edge, I think. She’s pleased to have been proven right. “The court has been purged, and the Seelie have been forced to flee.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering if this woman will ever fully make sense.

Hadeus answers, ignoring me entirely and addressing Ruskin. “She means that half of us have abandoned the court entirely, Your Highness, unable to live under these conditions.”

I look towards the palace, my dread mounting. “I can help,” I say. “Let me inspect the iron and?—”

“No.” Hadeus cuts me off. “You must stay away.”

“I’d watch your manners, Lord Hadeus,” Ruskin says, a dangerous tone in his voice.

Hadeus draws his horse back a few steps, as if instinctively feeling the need to put distance between him and Ruskin, but he doesn’t apologize. If anything, I’d say he looks affronted.

“Hasn’t she done enough?” he says, jerking his head at me and then at the iron-pocked palace behind him.

“Eleanor has done nothing but try to help this court,” Ruskin snaps.

“If you please, my Lord,” says Jorna, looking between all of us imploringly, “Things have only gotten worse since the day she first came here. I believe the prophecy demands that we purge any poisons from?—”

“Eleanor is not a poison,” Ruskin growls. Jorna falls silent, looking cowed, but the other High Fae exchange knowing looks, and my anger and shame feel like they could burn me up, hearing myself being talked about like this.

“How can you be sure?”

The words are out of Hadeus’s mouth before I think he’s fully considered them. A vine immediately shoots up from the ground, startling his horse so that it rears up. The plant wraps itself around Hadeus’s wrist, yanking it up behind his back so he’s forced to lean forward in his saddle, desperately trying to steady his horse with one hand.

“I told you to watch your manners, Swallowtail,” says Ruskin coolly.

“This realm cannot thrive with such unnaturalness in it,” Hadeus spits, his voice tight from speaking at an awkward angle. “The ephor said it herself.”

Jorna’s eyes widen in alarm, and she shakes her head, looking nervously between Hadeus and Ruskin. Whatever she might have said—whatever she might actually believe—it’s clear she doesn’t want to be lumped in with the rest of them in Ruskin’s view. Not when he’s standing right in front of her.

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