Page 36 of The Iron Raven

I chuckled, but with a piercing whistle and a billow of black smoke, a rusty, black iron engine pulled into the station and came to a heaving, panting halt beside the platform, leaking steam and puffing like an out-of-breath dragon. Nyx flinched and darted behind me, then peered over my shoulder as the train wheezed and hacked and coughed, sending smoke and bits of soot everywhere.

“What is that?” she muttered, staring at the huge, huffing engine in both wariness and awe. “Some kind of iron monster? Is it alive?”

“That,” I announced, glancing back to grin at her, “is our ride to Mag Tuiredh.”

“That’sthe train? Why didn’t you tell me it was...” Her eyes narrowed. “You just wanted to see my reaction, didn’t you?”

“It would’ve been funny if you tried to stab it—ow.” I winced as she punched me in the ribs. “Still worth it.”

The inside of the train wasn’t exactly crowded, but it wasn’t empty, either. It seemed Mag Tuiredh was a popular destination in the Iron Realm. Iron fey sat alone or in small groups. Curious, wary, and faintly hostile gazes followed us down the aisles, which I did my best to ignore. Finding a relatively quiet corner, I slouched onto a bench with a sigh and put my feet up on the seat across from me. My hooves clattered against the edge of the bench, and I winced. “Oof, that’s going to take some getting used to again. I hope Meghan doesn’t see me and freak out. Hell, I hopeice-boydoesn’t see me and freak out.” I paused. “Wait. No, that would actually be hilarious.”

Nyx, leaning against the window with her arms crossed, glanced down at me. “Who is this ‘ice-boy’ you keep mentioning?”

“The Iron Queen’s husband.” I laced my hands behind my head, affecting a pose of lazy nonchalance, a stark contrast to the sudden bitterness that prickled inside. “Third son of Mab, Queen of the Winter Court. His real name is Ash, but ice-boy fits him so much better. You’ll see when we meet them.”

The train chugged into motion, and soon the lights of Tinkerport faded behind us. As we picked up speed, moving away from the town, a vast, rocky expanse could be seen through the window, jagged cliffs silhouetted against a navy blue sky. The moon hung very low over one of the peaks, and the stars were beginning to disappear. Dawn would soon break over the Iron Kingdom, for which I was glad. After the darkness of the Between and the eternal twilight of the wyldwood, I was ready to see the sun.

I yawned, stretching out on the bench. “Might as well get comfortable,” I told the faery standing at the window. “I’m not sure how long it’ll take us to reach the capital, but Mag Tuiredh is near the center of the Iron Realm, so it could take a while. This might be a good time for a nap.”

“Sleep?” The Forgotten gave me a strange look, lowering her voice. “We’re in the Iron Realm, in a metal box surrounded by dozens of Iron fey. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Suit yourself.” I slouched farther on the bench with a yawn. “But I have the feeling we’re not going to get much rest once we actually get to Mag Tuiredh, so I’m going to relax while we have the chance. Yell if something tries to eat my face off.”

Nyx shook her head but turned away, staring out the window again with her arms crossed.

I leaned back and let my eyes close, shutting out the rest of the world. I wasn’treallythat tired, but I could feel the mire of resentment stir when Nyx mentioned Ash, and I didn’t want to continue talking about it. For the first time in a long time, I felt it was better that I not say anything at all. Hopefully the memories would fade and take these feelings of anger and hostility with them.

The train chugged on into the night. None of the other passengers bothered us; it seemed the rest of the train had either fallen asleep or were keeping to themselves. I dozed, but was aware enough to know Nyx did not sit down the entire time, continuing her silent vigil at the window until dawn.

I felt the moment the sun broke over the distant mountains, the light warming my face and pressing against my eyelids.

A strangled sound made my blood chill. I opened my eyes just in time to see Nyx stagger back from the window. Her face was pale, her eyes glassy and pained. One hand clutched at her chest, then she swayed and fell to her knees on the wooden floor.

“Nyx.” I swung my hooves off the bench and dropped beside her, putting a hand on her arm. The Forgotten shuddered, her skin cold in the faint rays of sunlight streaming through the window, and my alarm grew. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I...I don’t know.” Her voice was a breath, a whisper, as if she couldn’t summon the strength for anything louder. “I feel strange. Weak.” She trembled and pressed a hand to the floor as if the room was spinning. “What is happening to me? Is this...iron sickness?”

My senses prickled. I glanced around to see we weren’t going unnoticed. The faeries on the train who, a few seconds ago, had been dozing or gazing out the window, minding their own business, were starting to stare at us. Eyes turned, heads swung around, and gazes rose to watch us with more than a passing fascination. Glowing, curious, hungry eyes stared at Nyx, making me tense. The denizens of the Iron Realm, though they claimed to be more civilized than Summer or Winter, were still fey. And faeries could sense weakness like a shark smelled blood. I could see that predatory nature awakening in the calculating stares sizing us up, wondering how easy it would be to take us apart. The three steel-trap gnomes sitting toward the end of the car peered over a seat back, their eyes glowing and intense as they watched us.

Okay, it was a good idea to not be here now. “Nyx,” I said, turning back to the Forgotten. Was it my imagination, or did she seem paler than before? Even less substantial than she had been? “Not to alarm you or anything, but we need to get out of here. Can you stand?”

Her jaw clenched, but she nodded jerkily and pushed herself to her feet, swaying a little as she did. “Go,” she told me. “I’m right behind you.”

I stepped into the aisle, smiling dangerously at any Iron faery who met my gaze, daring them to try something. They stayed where they were, though their eyes glittered as they shifted past me to the Forgotten at my back, making my fingers itch for my daggers.

“Don’t look now,” Nyx muttered, her voice low and strained. “But we’re being followed.”

I glanced back and saw that the trio of steel-trap gnomes had slid out of their seat and were trailing us down the aisle like dogs following a wounded cougar, scenting blood but knowing not to get too close. Annoyance flickered, dangerously close to turning into something deadly. At this rate, they were just begging to meet the old Robin Goodfellow, who in his current mood was not inclined to be nice. Unfortunately, if I responded to this threat in any way, it might trigger the rest of the faeries in this car to attack. And in such tight quarters, that could get really messy really fast. If Nyx was at her best, I wouldn’t be concerned. But the Forgotten was clearly suffering from some mysterious affliction, and I was more worried about getting her to safety than giving a bunch of razor-tooth gnomes a permanent case of lockjaw.

I slid open the doors of one car and stepped into the next, which was just as crowded as the first. More faeries looked up from their seats, their attention turning curious and predatory as soon as Nyx stepped through the door.

I kept the vicious smile on my face, my gaze hard and challenging as we continued down the aisle.Go ahead and try something, it said.Give me a reason to cut loose.

As we neared the back of the second car, a large faery slid out of a booth, stepping into the aisle to block our path. He was enormous and muscular, with steely tendons underneath his dark skin and shoulders that filled his leather jacket. Thick dreadlocks hung around his shoulders like a mane, but they were made of twisted cables instead of hair. His eyes were hidden behind reflective sunglasses, but I could feel an intense, searing gaze settle on me.

I stopped and smirked up at him. “Oh hi,” I greeted, feeling Summer glamour surge to my fingertips. “You wouldn’t want to get out of the way, would you?”

“Robin Goodfellow.” The faery’s voice was deep, making the ground rumble under my hooves. “Don’t you recognize me?”

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