Page 24 of The Iron Raven

I knew the incident Ash was referring to, of course. But...it hadn’t happened this way. Or had it? I couldn’t remember, and after a moment, it didn’t matter.

The shadow took a step toward me, raising his glowing sword, and the flicker of unease disappeared.

“Put me down?” I snickered and tensed to spring into action. “We’ll see about that. Come on then, ice-boy,” I mocked. “You want to get rid of me? You and the entire Nevernever. Let’s see if you get any luckier than the last faery who tried.”

The shadow lunged at me, sword raised high. I sprang forward, and around us, the seasons changed as we fought. Winter to Spring, Summer to Autumn, our blades clashed against one another as lightning flickered and snow fell from the clouds. Back and forth we went, neither giving an inch, sword and daggers seeking to end the other’s life. A cycle that would never end. And all the while, his words echoed around us, flat and accusing, filled with hate.

You killed her.

She’s dead because of you.

No one wants you alive.

I was a fool to ever trust you.

Snarling, I leaped into the air, coming down with a flurry of vicious blows, and drove the shadow back a few paces, though he parried every one of them. Panting, we broke apart and circled one another like wolves, looking for an opening.

“She never loved you.”

My steps faltered, a cold lance going through my stomach. Ash wasn’t talking about Ariella now. Lowering my arms, I stared at him, hating the Winter prince for bringing it up. For throwing that cold truth in my face.

“In fact,” the shadow went on, “she barely tolerated you. The only thing you were good for was keeping her alive those first days in the Nevernever. As soon as she found out who she really was, that she was the daughter of the Summer King, she knew you weren’t good enough for her. That’s why she chose me.”

I bared my teeth in a grin, gripping my daggers so hard my knuckles throbbed. “Don’t tell me things I already know, ice-boy,” I snarled, and lunged at him.

“Robin!”

I jerked awake with a start, the swirling battle, the raging emotions, and Ash’s voice fading into the ether as I opened my eyes. The wrinkled face of the gnome peered up at me, the look on her face one of exasperation and concern. She held a clay mug in one hand, tendrils of steam coiling from the top and fading into the darkness.

“Back with us, then?” she asked as I blinked the last of the sleep from my eyes. For some reason, my heart was pounding against my ribs, making me frown. Had I been dreaming? That was weird; the fey didn’t normally dream unless some kind of magic was in effect, a spell or a curse of some kind. What had I even been dreaming about? Everything was flashes, blips, and images I couldn’t quite remember.

Something hot slid down my cheek, stinging my eyes.

“Robin,” the gnome said again. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?”

“Hmph, as I thought,” the gnome went on. “You’re exhausted. Don’t think I didn’t see those nasty bruises across your face. Something really kicked you around, didn’t it? Here.” She pushed the mug at me. “Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”

“Appreciate it,” I muttered, taking the offered mug. The steam burned my nostrils, smelling of herbs and lavender as I took a sip. “How’s our good Forgotten?”

“Resting at the moment.” Stacey shook her head. “Nasty business, those wounds. Deeper than I first thought. Whatever you ran afoul of, it’s not something I’d want to see around here. So...” She gave me a hard stare from behind her glasses. “Answer me this, Robin. Whatever that creature was, whatever monstrosity you ran into, was it also responsible for the return of the old Goodfellow?”

I choked a bit on the hot liquid, snorting it up my nose. “Ow. What? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play me for a fool, Robin.” Stacey sighed, waiting until my eyes had stopped watering and I could give her my full attention. “I’ve known you a long time. I remember the old days, the days when the name Goodfellow was a curse among mortals and fey alike. I know this...” she twirled a stubby finger at my forehead “...isn’t who you want to be any longer. Or if it is, thenthatRobin Goodfellow is someone I really don’t want to see in my clinic. Or anywhere in the Nevernever. So, what happened?”

It was my turn to sigh. “I don’t know,” I muttered, setting the mug down. “I didn’t choose to be like this. Trust me, I did not wake up this morning thinking, ‘You know what would be fun? Being an evil asshole again, that would be fun.’ When we were fighting that creature, it got in a lucky shot and stabbed me. The next thing I knew... Well, I’d say I was horny, but I’ve already made that joke.”

“So, the monster did this to you.”

“Yeah, but here’s the scary part.” I paused, mulling over my next words carefully. “It’s not like I’ve changed into something I’m not. I mean, obviously it’s been a while. I didn’t have horns this afternoon, so there’s that. But what I’m feeling now...it’s like I’m turning back into who I used to be. The part that was buried.”

“Mmm.” Stacey looked grave. “Well, whatever you do, be careful, Robin. There are many in the Nevernever who would not be pleased to see the old you return. And many who would be quite terrified. Enough to wish you harm.”

“Yeah, I get that. But you wanna know the really scary part?” I felt a grin cross my face, one of my old ones, wide and vicious and completely without humor. “I’m struggling with whether or not I should care.”

“About what?” asked a new voice.

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