Copper Ravens (9 page)

8

I
t didn't take all that much longer for the silverkin to sort themselves out and, wouldn't you know it, they were immediately back to their energetic little selves. Instead of taking time to recover, they were off sweeping floors, straightening drapes, and making tea by the gallon. Despite their recent adventure in slumberland, they were apparently none the worse for wear. About the only thing the little guys were doing differently was giving my mother a wide, respectful berth. That was a very, very smart move on their part.

As for me, I couldn't stop staring at them. Each and every 'kin, from Shep on down to the littlest sweeper, now bore flowing copper spirals across their arms and legs. The calm, rational portion of my brain understood that these new copper sigils had only appeared because of my exposure to their sparks, nothing more. Still, I took it as a sign that I finally belonged in the Otherworld.

“Of course you belong,” Micah said, when I shared why I was smiling. We had remained in the garden long after Mom and Sadie had gone inside, and we were contentedly watching the silverkin harvest fruit. After all the hubbub of this afternoon, there needed to be pie in my future. “My Sara, the Whispering Dell is your home as much as mine.”

“It's not.” I hadn't meant to sound so whiney. “You were born here. I'm from another world—
literally
, another world. It's not like I fit in.”

Micah laughed, a warm, rumbling sound. “Does anyone ‘fit' in the Otherworld?” he asked, while his arm made a sweeping gesture, encompassing both the manor and the lands beyond. “I have servants of metal rather than flesh and blood, and a nymph resides in my pool. Beyond the pool is a wood witch, who would strangle me as soon as greet me good morning. My village is populated with all manner of Elementals and beasts, and more than a few Mundanes. We are none of us alike.”

I smiled and leaned against his shoulder. “I suppose you have a point.” He accepted his win gracefully and kissed my hair. “I just like seeing something of me here. Everything's so silver.”

“What would you like?” Micah asked. “To be copper, that is.”

“Anything?”

“For my Sara, anything.”

“Hmm.” I considered my request carefully, not wanting to waste what might be my only redecorating opportunity on something frivolous. Maybe a spiral staircase of polished copper would enhance the place, or that roof I'd once coveted? Before I came up with any good ideas, we heard yet another commotion, this one coming from the opposite side of the garden. I really needed to start chucking salt over my shoulder to ward off these sorts of days.

Micah leapt up and ran toward the noise. I followed close behind, but we both halted when we saw the source of this latest uproar. Of course, it was Max, who was fending off a gang of iron warriors.

“Max!” I shrieked.

“They followed me!” he yelled, ducking to avoid a punch. There were four—no, make that
five
—iron warriors surrounding my brother, with the remains of two others lying nearby. The warriors were huge, monstrous creations, each one of them tall and broad, with a mouthful of teeth like broken saw blades. Not to mention, all of their punches were death blows.

Max, by comparison, was positively puny. I'd like to say that my brother was holding his own against the mob, but, well-honed as his abilities might be, he could only disable one iron man at a time. The warriors had apparently caught on to his weakness, for while one attacked him head-on, the others closed in from behind, harrying him and getting in those cheap shots that added up to blood loss and exhaustion.

I had no idea what to do or how to help my brother, when all at once, the iron warriors stopped moving and became little more than metal sculptures decorating the garden. Max's confused face let me know that he hadn't engineered this turn of events. Since I knew that I hadn't done anything but jump up and down and flap my arms, I glanced to the side. I flinched when I saw Micah's outstretched hand, his silver eyes boiling in fury.

“They followed you?” Micah said, his voice rumbling like a volcano moments before the eruption. “Where did they follow you from?”

“The village,” Max said. I realized that he couldn't move either, also thanks to my consort. I'd never seen Micah so angry, and I was amazed that he could hold all six individuals completely immobile. I was awed by his control, his strength, and more than a bit frightened. “Sara and I saw one the other day—”

“The one whose spark was taken by the pixie,” I interjected.

“And you went looking for more,” Micah deduced. When Max remained silent, Micah continued, “You sought out the henchmen of my greatest enemy, and
led them to my home?”

“I wanted to know who they work for now!” Max shouted. “I thought—”

“No, Max, you did not think.” Micah approached the warriors, and their heads creaked around to face him. “Whom do you serve?” he demanded of the iron men.

“The Iron Queen,” they answered in unison.

“Are you aware that she is dead?”

“It does not matter,” replied the one who'd lunged at Max. “She created us, and we will carry out her will.”

“Will anything deter you from this course?”

“Nothing, unless we are remade.”

Micah nodded, then squeezed his hand closed. The warrior's mouth clamped inward on itself, his jaw crushed and dented so badly that he might never speak again.

“As he stated,” Micah continued, as he turned to face my brother, “any metal creatures created by Ferra are honor bound to carry out their mistress' commands. Do you know anything of honor, Max?” Max opened his mouth, but Micah didn't give him the chance to reply. “No, of course you don't. Otherwise, you would not have acted so foolishly. You would not have acted so
recklessly
and brought danger to your family's doorstep.” Micah stepped before Max, using his advantage of height to stare down at him. “Had you bothered to ask me, I would have told you that, like as not, any iron warrior would attempt to kill a Raven on sight.
Any
Raven, your sisters and mother included. I do know more of the ways of metal than you, boy.”

I could see Max fuming, but he knew he was wrong. The evidence lay heaped up around him like a supernatural scrap yard. “I just thought—”

“We have already established that you do not think,” Micah spoke over him. “I do understand. You wanted to prove yourself the hero. You failed.” Now Micah leaned into Max's face, not stopping until he was a hair's breadth away from him. “My patience with you grows thin. Take care that it doesn't grow thinner.”

With that, Micah turned and walked toward the manor, with me following. Of course, Max couldn't just let us go.

“You think you're big, bad Micah, and want us all to bow down to you,” my idiot brother shouted. “Well, you're not so powerful!”

Micah halted, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he raised his hand. Amazingly, all seven of the iron warriors lifted into the air, screaming as they were crushed together like a giant wad of aluminum foil, the sound like a thousand rusty grates being dragged shut. Micah flicked his wrist, and, like a corrupted shooting star, the iron blob sped away across the sky.

“Where did you send them?” I asked, my voice and hands shaking. Each warrior must have weighed as much as a small car, and Micah had just flung seven of them away without even breaking a sweat.

“Ferra's castle,” Micah replied, “where they belong.”

The Iron Court was miles away from the Whispering Dell. Miles and miles…I wrapped my arm around Micah's waist and coaxed him inside the manor. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Max standing among the huge ruts in the lawn, the carefully tended flowers that had been trampled down to nothing. With wide eyes and a bloodless face, he stared at the destruction he'd caused. Maybe Micah's lesson in humility had taught him a thing or two.

Then again, this was Max.

However Max had taken it, I wanted him and Micah as far apart as possible; while I didn't think Micah would do anything that would harm Max, I understood how close Max had just come to being thrown out on his ear. Who knows what kind of trouble Max would stir up as a homeless derelict in the Otherworld? I led Micah across the atrium, where we passed the newly reminted silverkin as they polished the stairs, and up to our rooms. Once the door was shut, Micah's hard exterior crumbled away and he sat heavily, his head in his hands.

“I'm sorry,” I murmured, perching on the arm of his chair. For the second time that day, I rubbed his mark. “I'll talk to Max.”

“How could he have led them here, to our home?” Micah mumbled. “Why did he go looking for them?”

“Max probably didn't mean to bring them here,” I said. “I'm sure he just got in way over his head and needed help.” The image of the iron warriors flying across the sky bubbled up in my mind, and I couldn't help but smile. “I had no idea you were so strong.”

“I'm not,” he replied. “I was furious.”

I slid around, balancing myself before him on the arms of the chair. “Max is pretty lucky he's my brother, huh?”

At that, Micah laughed. “He is. Which makes the message I received this morning all the more perplexing.”

“Message?” I let go of the arms and slid onto Micah's lap.

“Our queen has decided to make a formal appearance,” Micah replied. “All of the Inheritors should be present, and we of metal shall formally pledge ourselves to her.”

“Everyone of metal?” I asked.

“Not every last being. Your sister will, yes, as will all the rulers.”

“So, not me, then.” Once more, everyone was interested in Sadie and Micah, not poor, pathetic, “just a consort” Sara.

“Yes, you.” Micah smoothed back my hair, his hand coming to rest on the nape of my neck. “You and I are as one.”

“I don't rule anything,” I whined, but Micah silenced me with a kiss. I think he was tired of hearing that same old complaint.

“Hush. We are going, you and I and your sister.” I noticed that he omitted Max's name. Smart.

“Will those of iron be there?”

“That is not likely. They are somewhat disgraced at the moment. When a new iron ruler emerges, they will first need to make reparations to Oriana, if such reparations are even possible.” Micah tightened his arms around me. “You will be quite safe in the Gold Court, my love, of that I am certain.”

I laid my head on his shoulder, not voicing my thoughts. Safe from iron, yes, but what about all the other Elementals?

9

M
icah and I remained in our rooms for the rest of that day and into the evening, though he balked when I described us as hiding from my family. He claimed that the true reason for our seclusion was that he had missed me, and how could I argue with that? Besides, I did like having him all to myself.

Of course, I couldn't just enjoy our time alone. “So, did you see all of that junk in the atrium?” I ventured. We'd been sitting at the table before the window, playing chess. He was even letting me win.

“You mean the gifts from others of copper, supporting you as their ruler?” Micah countered, without even looking up from the board.

“Um. Yeah.” I stared at the chess pieces, wishing one of the bishops or rooks would offer some advice. They didn't. “Can we make the gifts stop?”

“In my experience, love, gifts are given according to the giver's preference, not the recipient's.” Micah moved a pawn, then he grabbed my hands. “Do you think you'd not rule well?”

“I think random fake office work doesn't qualify me to do anything but alphabetize reports,” I mumbled, being that I'd only ever been given busy work in my position at REES. “Can't they support someone who knows what she's doing?” I looked at him, my next words almost as desperate as I felt. “What should I do?”

Micah rose and scooped me into his arms, settling us onto the window seat. I loved it when he carried me, but I always told him I'd rather he didn't. If he knew how much I enjoyed it, my feet would never touch the ground again. “You truly do not wish to rule?” he asked.

“I truly do not.”

“Then we shall learn who else wishes to be leader of copper, and we shall support them.”

I blew out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. “We can do that? It's that simple?”

“Yes and yes.”

I laid my head on Micah's shoulder, relieved beyond words. “You're brilliant. I love you.”

“Only for my mind?”

I glanced at his face; there was that grin, the one that only made appearances when we were alone. I'd move mountains for that grin. “Maybe for a few other things, too.”

The next morning found Micah still in full-on Corbeau avoidance mode. He had instructed the silverkin to deliver breakfast to our rooms, and while I enjoy having my coffee in bed as much as the next gal, all this sulking was getting a little old. I tried to distract Micah out of his funk by asking him about Oriana's impending appearance and trying to learn a few details about what would surely be quite the event. I only asked for basic information, like who was expected to attend, what we should be wearing, would anyone be handing out pronunciation guides for all those multi-syllable names, things like that. My Micah had other ideas and suggested that instead of spending the day inside discussing such dry matters, we head on down to the village and visit the smithy.