Page 87 of The Realm That Falls to Her

He considers this, staring at the water so hard I think he might be trying to part it.

“I don’t think so. I have never enjoyed killing, but at the time, it seemed to be the only way to keep greater evils at bay. My perspective is different now.” He meets my gaze. “You have changed me too, Ella. What I once thought was necessary and inevitable has been turned upside down.”

It’s not a firm “no,” but maybe that’s too much to ask. I think of who he was back then, in the memory I saw. Young and grief-stricken and furious, with no rulebook for how to handle those feelings in anything but the most extreme way. What did he do other than what every fae would have expected? He would probably have been praised by everyone for the way he dealt with the king. Even in the Unseelie Court, which seemed so much warmer and more sincere to me than the Seelie, no one would have shied away from the violence he showed. It isn’t fair to expect him to have started living up to my standards centuries before he had any idea that I existed.

All I can do was make it clear where I stand now, where I draw the lines—what I won’t be able tolerate from him ever again. But I’ve done that already, haven’t I? If he crosses the line, he knows I’ll walk away, even if it breaks my heart to do it. So the only question is whether the past, on its own, is enough to make me leave—whether I’m so sure that he’s still violent and remorseless that there’s no point in waiting, since that side of him is bound to come out again sooner or later. Is that what I believe? Or is the Ruskin I know, the Ruskin I love, someone I can trust?

I don’t want to let his past define him, and I won’t let my fears define me. Until and unless he proves me wrong, my place is here at his side.

I step closer and take his hand.

Chapter 26

The midday light shortens the shadows of the trees as we ride through the Emerald Forest. I hear Destan inhale deeply and sigh, and when I look over he has a little smile on his face. I raise my eyebrows at him.

“What?” he says, defensive. “It’s good to be home. Don’t you realize how damp and earthy the Unseelie Court smelled?”

He’s right. In contrast, the Seelie Kingdom is as fragrant as a flower shop.

“I seem to remember you didn’t hate everything about Unseelie,” I say suggestively, thinking of a certain Unseelie maid.

“What are you talking about?” Ruskin asks, riding up between us. Destan’s look demands my silence.

“Oh, just the friends we made in Unseelie,” I say with a grin. Ruskin seems about to say something, when General Sunshard up ahead turns her horse to signal to us.

“We’re nearing the liaison point,” she says when we catch up to her. “We should dismount and proceed on foot, or the resistance might mistake us for the Hunt.”

I shudder at the thought of those maniacs having free rein again, and clumsily slide down from my steed. Soon the banks of the river come into view. Lord Sunshard lifts his hands to his mouth and makes a noise uncannily like a crow. There’s a moment’s silence, and then the cawing is returned, and two figures appear from behind the trees to our left.

One of them is short, an imp I recognize who supplies food to the palace. The other is taller and has skin the texture of shells.

“Kaline?” I say, bewildered. My maid from the palace doesn’t look herself at all. Her seaweed-like hair is pale and bedraggled, and she has a crack across her cheek as if something struck her there.

“Your Highness, Eleanor Thorn.” She curtseys to us, though it looks reluctant, and the imp follows suit, introducing himself as Gapir.

“What happened?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

Kaline hushes me.

“We can’t talk here,” says the imp, glancing around him. “Too many eyes.”

They lead us down to the riverbank and stop. I look curiously at the rushing waters, my eyes narrowing as I spot a specific patch that’s moving strangely.

The surface breaks and a thin, greenish-gray figure emerges. Its frog-like face stares out at us. It’s a nixie—a type of low fae who guards the river. And not just any nixie. I’m sure this is one I’ve met before.

“You!” I say, remembering when this creature tried to trick me with its riddle games when I was fleeing the Hunt. I’m pretty sure if I lost it was going to eat me.

“You,” it croaks wetly back, glaring at me with bulbous eyes.

“You two know each other?” Destan asks weakly.

“Let’s just say we’ve had a run-in before,” I tell him. To be fair, I tricked the nixie back, promising it gold I then threw into the river, but that seemed reasonable when I was fleeing for my life.

“Well, whatever happened, we have bigger problems now,” Gapir says, mostly directing his words to the nixie. The creature shrugs in acceptance and opens its mouth. It’s full of sharp teeth, just like I remember. Then it starts to recite.

“A ring of gold I wear upon my head,

A fist of iron I use in honor’s stead,

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