The Iron Daughter (9 page)

I longed to hold him. I wanted to melt into him and feel his arms around me, but his last words hung between us like a barbed-wire fence. “Are you all right?” I whispered. He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured. “I don't know if we'll get another chance to stop after this. You should rest while you can.”

“I'm not tired.”

He didn't press the issue, but stood there watching me with a weary, sorrowful expression. I gazed back, wishing I could bridge the distance between us, not knowing how to reach him.

An awkward silence filled the room. Words hovered on the tip of my tongue, wanting to burst out, but I knew Ash didn't want to hear them. I teetered between silence and confession, knowing I would be spurned, still wanting to try. Ash stood quietly, his gaze wandering about the room. A couple times he, too, seemed about to say something, only to fall silent, stabbing his fingers through his hair. When words finally did come, we both spoke at the same time.

“Ash—”

“Meghan, I—”

Someone pounded on the door, making us both jump. “Prince Ash!” a squeaky voice shouted from the other side. “Are you there? Sweetfinger is downstairs, waiting for you.”

“Tell him I'm on my way,” Ash replied, and pushed himself off the door. “Wait here,” he told me. “It should be safe. Lock the door and try to get some rest.” He opened the door, revealing a leering goblin on the other side, and closed it softly behind him.

I sat down on one of the beds, which reeked of beer and dirty straw, and stared at the door for a long time.

 

T
HEN
I
WAS BEING
shaken awake. I blinked in the darkness; someone had put a black cloth over the caged light and the room was swathed in shadow. Sleep made my eyelids heavy and awkward, but I cracked them open to focus on the blurred form above me. Ash sat on the edge of the mattress, silver eyes bright in the gloom, holding me gently by the shoulders.

“Meghan,” he murmured, “wake up. It's time.”

Exhaustion pulled at me. I'd been more tired than I thought, and my thoughts swirled muzzily. Seeing I was awake, Ash started to rise off the bed, but I slid forward and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“No,” I murmured, my voice still groggy with sleep. “Stay.”

He shivered, and his hands came to rest over mine. “You're not making this any easier,” he whispered into the darkness.

“Don't care,” I slurred, tightening my hold on him. He sighed and half turned in my arms, smoothing the hair from my cheek.

“Why am I so drawn to you?” he muttered, almost to himself. “Why is it so hard to let go? I thought…at first…it was Ariella, that you remind me of so much. But it's not.” Though he didn't smile, his eyes lightened a shade. “You're far more stubborn than she ever was.”

I sniffed. “That's like the pot calling the kettle black,” I whispered, and a faint, tiny grin finally crossed his face, before his expression clouded and he lowered his head, touching his forehead to mine.

“What do you want of me, Meghan?” he asked, a low thread of anguish flickering below the surface. Tears blurred my vision, all the fear and heartache of the past few days rising to the surface.

“Just you,” I whispered. “I just want you.”

He closed his eyes. “I can't do that.”

“Why not?” I demanded. His face swam above me, blurring with tears, but I refused to release him to wipe my eyes. My desperation grew. “Who cares what the courts say?” I challenged. “We could meet in secret. You could come to my world, no one will see us there.”

He shook his head. “Mab already knows. Do you think she would let us get away with it? You saw how well she reacted in the throne room.” I sniffled, burying my face in his side, as his fingers gently combed my hair. I didn't want to let him go. I wanted to curl into him and stay there forever.

“Please,” I whispered desperately, not caring about pride anymore. “Don't do this. We can find a way around the courts. Please.” I bit my lip as a shiver went through him, and I held him tighter. “I love you, Ash.”

“Meghan.” Ash's voice was tormented. “You don't…know me at all. You don't know what I've done…the blood on my hands, both faery and mortal.” He stopped, taking a breath to compose himself. “When Ariella died, everything inside me froze. It was only through hunting—killing—that I could feel anything again. I cared for nothing, not even myself. I threw myself into fights I thought I would lose, if only to feel the pain of a sword blow, the claws tearing me apart.”

I shivered and clung to him, remembering the scars across
his back and shoulders. I could imagine him fighting, his eyes dead and cold, hoping that something would finally get lucky and kill him.

“Then you came along,” he muttered, touching my wet cheek, “and suddenly…I don't know. It was like I was seeing things for the first time again. When I saw you with Puck, the day you came to the Nevernever…”

“The day you tried to kill us,” I reminded him.

He winced, nodding. “I thought fate was playing a cruel joke on me. That a girl, who could have been Ariella's shadow, was keeping company with my sworn enemy—it was too much. I wanted to kill you both.” He sighed. “But, then I met you at Elysium, and…” He closed his eyes. “And everything I thought I'd lost forever came trickling back. It was maddening. I thought about killing you several times during Elysium, just to stop what I knew would be my downfall. I didn't want this, to feel anything, especially with a half-human girl who was the daughter of the Summer King.” He snorted ruefully, shaking his head. “From the moment you stepped into the Nevernever, you've been my undoing. I should never have agreed to that contract.”

I sucked in a breath. “Why?”

He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, his voice gentler than before. “Because no matter what I feel, I can't fight centuries of rules and traditions, and neither can you.”

“We could try—”

“You don't know the courts,” Ash continued softly. “You haven't been in Faery long enough to know what could happen, but I do. I've seen it, centuries of it. Even if we get the scepter back, even if we manage to stop the war, we'll still be on opposite sides. Nothing will change that, no matter how much you wish it wasn't so. No matter how much
I
wish it was different.”

I didn't answer, too miserable to comment. His voice, though filled with regret, was resolved. He had made up his mind, and I wouldn't be changing it.

A strange peace settled through me, or perhaps my despair finally gave in to resignation.
So, this is it
, I thought, as numbness spread through my body, easing the sharp pain in my chest.
This is what breaking up is like.
Although, I was sure “breaking up” was the wrong expression. It seemed much too common and trivial for what was happening.

“Come on.” Ash pried my hands from his waist and stood up. “We should go. Sweetfinger and I made a deal. He'll get us out of the city through the goblin tunnels that run beneath it. We'll need to hurry—Rowan's Thornguards are still scouring the streets for us.”

“Ash,” I said, struggling upright. “Wait. Just one more thing, before we go.”

He frowned warily. “What do you want?”

I rose from the bed, my heart thudding in my chest. “Kiss me,” I whispered, and saw his eyebrows arc in surprise. “Just once more,” I pleaded, “and I promise it will be the last time. I'll be able to forget you after that.” A bald-faced lie. Even if I turned ninety, lost my mind and forgot everything else, the memory of the Winter prince would be a shining beacon that would never fade.

He hesitated, unsure, and I tried to make my tone light. “Last time, I swear.” I met his gaze and tried for a smile. “It's the least you can do. I didn't get a proper breakup, you know.”

Ash still wavered, looking torn. His eyes flicked to the door, and for a moment I thought he would walk away, leaving me to shrivel into a mortified heap. But then he let out a quiet sigh, and his shoulders slumped in resignation.

Meeting my gaze, he took one step forward, drew me into his arms, and brushed his lips to mine.

I think our last kiss was meant to be quick and chaste, but after the first touch of his lips fire leaped up and roared through my belly. My fingers yanked him close, digging into his back, and his arms crushed me to him as if wanting to meld us together. I knotted my fingers in his hair and bit down on his bottom lip, making him groan. His lips parted, and my tongue swept in to dance with his. There was nothing sweet or gentle in our last kiss; it was filled with sorrow and desperation, of the bitter knowledge that we could've had something perfect, but it just wasn't meant to be.

It ended much too soon. Ash pulled away, eyes bright, shaking with desire and passion. Both our hearts were thudding wildly, and Ash's fingers were digging painfully into my shoulders. “Don't ask me this again,” he rasped, and I was too breathless to answer.

He released me and stalked through the door without looking back. I took a deep breath, halting the tears crawling up my throat, and followed.

A goblin waited for us at the foot of the stairs, his mouth pulled into a toothy grin that showed missing fangs and gold teeth. He was decked out in jewelry: rings, ear studs, necklaces, even a gold nose ring. A milky glass eye sparkled as he turned to me, rubbing his claws and grinning like a gleeful shark.

“Ah, this is princess that turned prince traitor,” he hissed, eyeing me up and down. “And now they need goblin tunnels out of city, good, good.” He gestured with a ring-encrusted hand. “No time to speak. We leave now, before guards show up, ask too many questions. Need anything before we go, traitor prince?”

Ash looked pained, but shook his head. The goblin cackled, gold teeth flashing in the dim light. “Yes, good! Follow me, then.”

The Ring

Sweetfinger led us out a back door of the tavern and along the edge of the lake. Past the docks, the ground dropped away sharply to a narrow coastline of jagged rock and stone. Hugging the breaker wall, we followed Sweetfinger to the water's edge, where two burlier goblins waited inside a small wooden boat.

“Quickly, quickly,” Sweetfinger said, urging us inside. We took a cautious seat between the two hench-goblins, who picked up the oars as Sweetfinger shoved us into the water and leaped in. As they rowed us farther from shore, he turned to us with an apologetic smile.

“Goblin tunnels aren't far from here,” he said, fingering one of his rings. “Only goblins know where they are, and only goblins are allowed to see them and live. Used to be, payment would be your lovely eyes, but times change. Point is, you not goblin, you cannot see our secret tunnels. Rules, you know. So sorry.”

“Understood,” Ash muttered as a goblin slid behind him and pulled a blindfold over his eyes. I jumped as a black cloth covered my eyes as well, plunging me into darkness.

We drifted for a long while, the only sounds being the rhythmic sloshing of the oars in the water and Sweetfinger's occasional comment to his thugs. Ash's body was tense against mine, muscles coiled bands under his skin. The air grew colder, and I heard the squeaking of bats somewhere above us. The boat bumped and scraped against rocks, and a foul stench crept into the air, smelling of dung and rotten meat. Snickers and cackling laughter echoed in the darkness, and clawed feet skittered over the rocks.

Then, the noises and smells faded, and we floated in silence for a time. I heard Sweetfinger and his guards muttering among themselves, and it made me very nervous. Finally, the boat bumped against solid ground, and someone pulled it ashore.

I pulled off the blindfold and blinked in the dim light. We were in a small cave with a pebbly floor, bones and trash scattered about the room. In the distance, a circle of light glimmered invitingly. I breathed a sigh of relief. We'd made it.

Sweetfinger leered at us as Ash helped me out of the boat. “As promised,” he said, gesturing to the exit at the back of the room. “Safe passage out of city. Now, I believe traitor prince owes me something, yes?” He held out a jewel-encrusted claw, and Ash dropped a small leather pouch into his waiting hand.

“Tell no one you've seen us,” Ash said as the two hench-goblins shoved the boat back into the water.

“I'm afraid it's too late for that, Your Highness,” came a harsh, gravelly voice at the other end of the cave. We spun, Ash's hand on his sword, as four Thornguards stepped into view, their boots crunching over the stones.

“Very intelligent, not going through the regular trods, Ash,” said one guard. His armor was thornier than the others', the
barbs on his shoulders bristling like giant porcupine quills. “Mab has them all well guarded, but you knew that, didn't you? Unfortunately, Rowan already bribed every smuggler in the city by the time you found this one. Goblins are such disgusting opportunists, aren't they?”

Furious, I glared back at Sweetfinger, but the boat was already well out of reach, Sweetfinger grinning at me from the bow.

“Sorry, Princess,” the goblin cackled. “Prince's offer was good. Other prince's offer was better. Nothing personal, yes?” He waved, and the boat drifted away into the dark. An icy stone settled in the pit of my stomach, and I turned back to the guards.

As one, the Thornguards drew their weapons. Their swords were spiky and black, with long thorns running the length of the blade, looking as sharp as razors.

“Stand down, Edgebriar,” Ash commanded. He hadn't drawn his sword yet, but his posture was tense. “I don't want to fight you. You can walk away from this and Rowan would never know. We're not returning to the city.”

“I'm afraid we weren't ordered to return you to the city, or Mab,” Edgebriar said with the barest of smirks. “You see, Rowan knows you're going after the scepter, and he can't allow that. The new king wants the half-breed alive, but I'm afraid we're going to have to kill you, Prince. Like Sweetfinger said, it's nothing personal.”

For a second, I didn't know who he was talking about. Then it hit me like a punch in the stomach. The new king. The new
Iron King.
They were working for the Iron Kingdom. Rowan must've let Tertius and the wiremen into the palace. He let them kill Sage and take the scepter, and convinced Mab that the Iron fey were not a threat!

Ash's face went blank with shock. “No,” he said, as the
blood drained from his face. “No, Rowan wouldn't sell us out. Not to them. What have you done?”

“We can't stop the Iron Kingdom,” Edgebriar continued, his voice earnest. “The old ways have become obsolete. Mab can't protect us any longer. It is time to ally ourselves with the stronger power, to become greater than we are. Rowan will lead us to a new era, one where we will fear nothing. Not the touch of iron, not the fading of human imagination, nothing! Let the oldbloods wallow in their ancient traditions. They will fall soon, and we will rise up to take their place.”

“Rowan will destroy us,” Ash said grimly. “This war only hastens our destruction. If Summer and Winter stood together, we could stop the Iron Kingdom.”

“For how long?” Edgebriar demanded, punctuating his words with a savage swing of his blade. “The humans dream their technology, their grand sweeping visions, and forget us. We can't turn back the clock, but we
can
evolve to survive. I will show you what I mean.” He ripped off his gauntlet, holding up his bare hand. On his third finger, an iron ring gleamed in the light. The entire digit was blackened and shriveled, and my stomach turned as he shook his fist triumphantly. “Look!” he demanded. “Look at me! I do not fear the touch of iron, of progress. It burns me now, but soon I will be able to use it freely, like the humans. Soon, I will be like them.”

“You're dying, Edgebriar.” Ash's voice was full of horror and pity. “It's killing you slowly, and you don't even realize it.”

“No! After the war, when both sides are weak and open, the Iron fey will sweep in and destroy all traces of the old. There will be no more Summer or Winter. There will be no more courts. There will be only the Iron Kingdom, and those strong enough to stand with it.”

I stared at him. “Rowan let the Iron fey into the palace, didn't he?” I whispered, and his fevered gaze turned on me.
“He sent them to steal the scepter, and he let them kill his own brother. How can you work for such a bastard? Can't you see he's using you?”

“Be silent, half-breed.” Edgebriar glared at me. “Insult my prince again, and I will cut out your tongue and feed it to my hounds. Rowan is the only one who cares for the future of Tir Na Nog.”

Ash shook his head. “Rowan wants power, and would sacrifice his entire court to achieve it. You don't have to be responsible for his insanity, Edgebriar. Let us pass. We can end this war, and if Summer stands with us, we can find a way to deal with the Iron Kingdom.”

Edgebriar's face didn't change. “We have our orders, Prince Ash. We will be taking the half-breed with us, but I'm afraid your journey ends here. Rowan made it quite clear that he did not want you returning to Mab, for any reason.” He gestured to the knights behind him, and they began to close in. “I apologize for the location. A prince's tomb should be a grander affair.”

I backed away, knowing the violence that was coming next. For the millionth time, I tried desperately to do
something
with my glamour; pull up a root to trip the knights, throw a glowy ball of light to distract them, anything. It was like hitting a glass wall. I
knew
my power was on the other side, but I couldn't access it.

Ash faced the approaching knights calmly, though I could sense muscles coiling beneath his skin. “Rowan doesn't know me as well as he thinks,” he murmured, seemingly unconcerned with the jagged blades closing in on him, “otherwise he never would've made such a mistake.”

Edgebriar smiled, leering at Ash from behind the trio of knights, content to let his guards engage the Winter prince. “And what mistake would that be?”

“There's only four of you.”

His arm whipped out, sending a flurry of ice shards at the oncoming Thornguards. The knights flinched, throwing up their arms to protect their faces, and Ash lunged into their midst.

The first one didn't stand a chance. Ash's blade sheared through his armor, and the faery crumpled before he could even raise his sword. Where he fell, his spiky armor seemed to unravel, flaring out into thick black briars, thorns curling into the air. In seconds, the faery's body had turned into a giant thornbush, growing right out of the rocks. A metal band glinted on one of the branches.

The screech of blades focused me on the current battle. I couldn't see Edgebriar, but the other two Thornguards had Ash pressed into a corner and were hounding him mercilessly. Ash parried and spun, blocking their attacks, his blade a blue-white streak through the air. I glanced around and picked up a fist-sized rock from the edge of the water. Maybe I couldn't throw fireballs, but that couldn't stop me from hurling other things.

Please don't hit Ash,
I thought, winding back for the throw.

The first rock thumped off the back of a knight, doing nothing, but the second struck the side of his head, making him flinch for just a moment. It was enough. Ash's blade whipped out, ripping through his chest. The knight crumpled without a sound, and brambles erupted from his armor, covering the body in a cocoon of thorns.

I gave a shout of triumph, but a dark shape filled my vision. Edgebriar stepped out of invisibility and reached for me with taloned fingers. I tried to dodge, but the Thornguard latched on to my wrist and yanked me to him, twisting my arm behind my back. As I gasped in pain, his other arm came up to circle my throat. I squirmed and kicked at him, but only jabbed myself on his spiny armor as his arm tightened and cut off my air.

An explosion of brambles signaled the end of the last knight, and Ash came striding through the hedge toward us, a cold, murderous gleam in his eye.

“Stay where you are, Prince,” Edgebriar spat, and pressed a cold black dagger against my cheek. “Not another step, or I will gouge out her pretty eyes. The Iron King doesn't care if she's a bit damaged when she comes to him.”

Ash stopped, lowering his blade, his eyes never leaving the knight. Edgebriar's chokehold loosened just the tiniest bit, and I sucked in a much-needed breath, trying to be calm. This close, the knight smelled of sweat and leather, and something sharper, metallic. The ring on his hand glinted against his blackened finger as he held the knife point to my face.

“Now,” Edgebriar panted, locking gazes with Ash, “I want you to put down your sword and swear you will not follow us.” When Ash didn't move, Edgebriar stabbed the point of the knife into my cheek, just enough to draw blood. I gasped at the sudden pain, and Ash tensed. “I won't ask you again, Your Highness,” Edgebriar growled. “You've lost this battle. Put down your sword, and promise you will not follow us.”

“Edgebriar.” Ash's voice was as cold as frozen steel. “Rowan has poisoned your mind, as surely as that iron is poisoning your insides. You can still walk away from this. Let me take the princess back to Arcadia, and then we can warn Mab about the Iron King and Rowan.”

“It's too late.” Edgebriar shook his head wildly. “They're already coming. You can't stop them, Ash. No one can.” He chuckled, a note of madness coming to the surface, and tightened his stranglehold on my neck.
“All the king's army and all the king's men,”
he whispered, waving the knife in front of my eyes,
“came to Faery on the day it would end.”

All right, enough was enough. Edgebriar had lost it; he had
taken a long walk off the short end. I had to do
something.
But without a weapon or glamour, what could I do?

Blood was trickling down my face, oozing a path over my skin like a giant red tear. My cheek throbbed, and pain brought everything into sharp focus. In my mind, I saw the metal ring glowing white, pulsing with energy. I felt the glamour around it, but it was different from anything I'd felt before—cold and colorless. Was this…iron glamour? Could I use it as the fey used the wilder magic of dreams and emotion? The ring shimmered, fluid and alive, eager to be worked upon. To be shaped into something new.

Tighten,
I thought, and the metal band responded instantly, biting into the skin. Edgebriar jerked, looking startled, and I squeezed harder, twisting the ring so that it cut into his flesh, drawing blood. It hissed where it touched, and Edgebriar howled, jerking his arm from my neck as if burned. I twisted from his grasp and shoved him away.

Ash lunged for Edgebriar. The Thornguard saw him coming and at the last second went for his sword, too late. Ash stepped within his guard and plunged the blade through his chest, so hard that it erupted out the knight's back.

Edgebriar staggered and fell away, hitting the water with a loud splash. He stared at the blood on his chest, than gazed up at us, his eyes blank and confused. “You don't…understand,” he gurgled, as Ash looked down on him sadly. “We were going to become…like them. Rowan…promised us. He promised…”

Then his eyes rolled up in his head, and thorny creepers slithered over his body, hiding him from view.

I shuddered, torn between throwing up and bursting into tears. Strange how all my time in the Winter Court still hadn't desensitized me to blood and death. I felt Ash's gaze on me, curious and wary, like a stranger's.

“What did you do to him?”

I shook my head. The strange glamour was already fading, like it had never been. My body trembled from the aftermath of shock and adrenaline. “I don't know.”