Page 114 of The Realm That Falls to Her

It nearly breaks my concentration, but I risk glancing at Ruskin. He’s no longer on the ground, but standing tall, if with all his weight on one leg while the other still bleeds. He’s watching Evanthe clutch her chest—he knows what I’m doing.

My magic continues to root out the iron. Without the shadows to protect it, the jagged shard isn’t hard to locate, lodged deep inside the soft walls of the muscle. I begin to break it down into tiny parts like I did before, drawing it from her system.

“Don’t do it, Miss Thorn,” she barks, an edge to her voice that tells me she can feel what’s happening. “You’ll be dooming this kingdom.”

I ignore her, extracting the tiny flecks of metal from the very pores of her skin, eradicating every speck of it from her body.

“That’s it,” I say to Ruskin, and his eyes look bright with emotion. “It’s all gone. There’s nothing left.”

His face is solemn as he begins to limp towards Evanthe.

“Mother, it’s all right,” he says, approaching the spot where she’s still trapped by the earth. “The iron’s all been removed. You’re free.”

Evanthe blinks at him for a moment, then lifts her hand, stretching it out to him. He hesitates, unsure whether to trust her, and her face hardens.

“Seelie will never be free without a firm hand to guide it. It will never change, Ruskin. That court will rot from the inside out without me?—”

Ruskin’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. I suddenly wonder if that outstretched hand wasn’t another attempt to conjure iron to attack Ruskin. She can’t do it anymore—that power was taken from her when I removed the last speck of the metal.

Yet Evanthe has access to other powers.

The ground around her erupts. The plants that twist out of the ground are black as the vines of Interra, as terrifying as the ones that tried to tear apart my memories and my mind. Their huge, creaking roots, conjured using Evanthe’s High Queen power, push the ground aside, growing at such a rate that Evanthe’s able to grab hold of one to pull herself free.

She straightens, turning amid the sprouting trees?—

And freezes, a look of surprise fixed to her face.

Ruskin withdraws his sword from his mother’s torso. His face is wracked with sorrow, and he throws his blade aside to catch her before she slumps to the ground. The bewildered expression is still there on her features, but her face looks softer than I’ve ever seen it outside of Ruskin’s memories, the shadows clearing from her eyes so you can see the green of them again.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Ruskin whispers. “I should’ve let you go the first time, but I was too afraid. That was my fault. You can rest now.”

As he gently lays her down, Evanthe’s chestnut hair splays out across the black roots like a crown.

Chapter 34

The grass of the battlefield isn’t visible anymore, covered by layer upon layer of fallen iron armor. The enchanted soldiers, no longer animated by Evanthe’s power, fell where they stood. All that’s left is a sea of metal forged with blood and black magic, of no use to anyone. Ruskin and I dismount from Parsley standing at the edge of the scene, watching as the Unseelie and Seelie collect their dead. I can see from here the healers of both courts walking among them, searching for anyone they can still save.

There’s a shout hailing us as three horses ride up—Elias and Jasand, flanking Lisinder. The Unseelie king has a fresh scar above his eye and a bandage around his middle, but he looks strong and untroubled as he halts his horse.

“They collapsed only fifteen minutes ago.” He nods to the empty suits of armor. “I take it Queen Evanthe is no more?”

I look to Ruskin, knowing it’s his loss to acknowledge.

“My mother is dead,” Ruskin says. “But in truth, she died long ago. The woman slain on the banks of Irnua was someone else entirely.” He straightens, as if expecting an argument from his uncle. But the Unseelie king simply nods.

“The real Queen Evanthe, like my brother, would be proud of what we did today. Of how two courts came together to save the Faerie realm.”

“Once upon a time, collaboration between the courts like this was all they wanted,” Ruskin says.

“And they would be proud of their son too, Nephew,” Lisinder continues, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it before.

Ruskin bows his head. “Thank you, Uncle, for everything.”

Elias leans in to murmur to his king.

“Indeed,” Lisinder says. “There is much to do, including beginning to dispose of all this.” He gestures to the cold iron.

“This battlefield is on Seelie territory,” Ruskin says with a note of surprise. “So you needn’t worry about that.”

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