Page 110 of The Realm That Falls to Her

“Isn’t it? When it involves boys from our village, dying for a king who doesn’t care a whit for them and who imprisoned me? When it involves my own daughter—fighting for her husband’s kingdom, for her life?”

“That doesn’t mean?—”

But to my shock, Dad cuts me off. “I’ve spent the last decade doing nothing. Walking around like a ghost. It’s time I stood up for something.” The hand around his sword tightens, and he glares out over the battlefield.

My heart twinges at his words—because I can’t argue against them. He’s right. And he looks more alive now than he has for years.

“I agree with you, Dad. But you don’t have to get yourself killed to stand up for what’s right. There are healers here, like Mom.” I point back towards where I saw Atlana and the others set up their tent. “I bet they need help, especially with the iron injuries. Cold iron burns the fae and makes them sick. Pulling out the shards can be as dangerous for the healer as it is for the wounded—but you could do that for them. You can help.”

He wavers, looking from me, to his sword, to the battle.

“Please, Dad,” I beg. “It’s where you can do the most good—and it’s where I won’t be sick with worry about you.”

“All right,” he says.

He lets me pull him up onto Parsley and I escort him back to the healers. Atlana looks so relieved when I offer Dad’s services, that he actually starts believing he really is needed. He squeezes me tight before I go, and then makes one request as I mount Parsley again.

“The Styrlanders…they’re not here of their own accord. I know the fae are fighting for their land, but help our people too, if you can. Albrecht has put them in an impossible position.”

Sparing them might be an impossible task for me, but I promise to do my best. As I ride back out I see Prince Gawain and his men are still clashing with the Unseelie Low Fae, and now some Seelie High Fae too. His numbers have fallen, and Albrecht is still nowhere in sight. Maybe I can convince Gawain to surrender—spare his forces any more loss of life. But even if the human soldiers are taken out of the equation, the iron soldiers will never back down—and somehow there still seems no end to them.

I pat Parsley on the neck. “All right, Parse, time to shine.” The bear roars, and then begins to ram his way through the iron soldiers. I clear swathes of them on either side as I go, parting the sea of iron and leaving piles of crumpled metal in my wake. Once I’m closer to the humans I can see a contingent of Seelie cutting the Styrlanders down like wheat. I recognize one of the Seelie—a big, brawny youth called Axtil who threatened me once with a knife. I watch his face light up with glee as he now uses one to carve a gash into the chest of a Styrland soldier.

“Hey!” I shout. But I don’t even know what to say. Technically, the humans are our enemies, and Axtil has already moved onto another victim. The human he stabbed sways, then begins to slip from his horse. As he does so, he turns his head, and I recognize him.

Dad said they had boys from our village fighting here.

“Thatch!” I urge Parsley forward, not quite managing to catch my onetime suitor before he hits the ground. I dismount, then kneel beside him. Even in the filth of the battlefield, he’s still recognizable as the boy that all the girls in my village used to swoon after, who used to drive me nuts with his constant bragging. He still looks handsome, even with mud and blood staining his blond hair.

The idiot. Of course he signed up for Albrecht’s army. What a waste.

His eyes blink open and focus on me. Immediately, his face twists in fear.

“Get away from me, fae scum!” he growls. He scrabbles weakly for his weapon, managing to lift his sword enough to angle the point towards me. It takes a second to realize he doesn’t recognize me.

“Thatch, it’s me. Eleanor Thorn. From home.”

He gapes, clearly trying to make sense of all the ways I’ve changed. Then the bewilderment on his face turns to anger. He coughs, and flecks of blood spatter onto his chin.

“What have you done to yourself?” he spits, disgusted.

“It’s just magic, Thatch. It’s still me.”

“No it’s not. Traitor.” He coughs again, his breathing growing more labored. “How could you side with them? These monsters?”

“That’s not?—”

“Stay away from me,” he wheezes, trying to crawl out of my reach. But his strength is gone. His head slumps against the earth, and his body stills. Unlike Wistal and Maidar, I never really liked Thatch, and yet this simple, foolish boy has come all the way from Styrland just to die under an unfamiliar sky. The awful futility of it makes tears prick at my eyes again.

A huge black panther leaps past the Seelie to land in front of me, and a moment later, Ruskin stands at my side. Although chaos is still spinning on around us, I grab his hand, not saying a word, just needing to feel him solid and warm beside me.

His fingers tighten around mine as he meets my gaze.

“I found her.”

Chapter 33

Ican tell from his expression it’s not good.

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