The Iron Warrior

“Since before Keirran was born,” Meghan replied, her gaze going distant. “The Oracle came to me not long after I became the Iron Queen and told me that my firstborn child would bring nothing but grief. That Keirran was destined to either unite the courts or destroy them.” She looked down at our hands, still held together. “And that the catalyst...was your death, Ethan. If Keirran killed you, that would be the trigger, the start of the destruction.”

I stared at her in disbelief. Before Keirran was even born. That was years of knowing, years of that dark cloud hanging over her head. She had carried the knowledge that her son might do something horrible for his entire life.

“And now, it’s happened,” Meghan said, her voice flat. “The prophecy has come to pass. Keirran has started something he can never undo, and I must respond, as queen of this land.”

I felt a cold lump settle in my gut, and I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice coming out faint. I was almost afraid of the answer. “Where is Keirran, anyway?”

“No one has seen him since that night,” Meghan replied. “But we have reason to believe he is with the Forgotten.”

The Forgotten. The fey who were slowly fading from existence because no one remembered them anymore. The blood froze in my veins. If I had “died,” then the Veil—the thing that had kept Faery hidden and invisible to humans—was gone. Keirran believed that destroying it would save the Forgotten, providing them with the human belief that they desperately needed to survive, as they had no glamour of their own. But I could only imagine the worldwide terror, chaos and madness that would have ensued if all humankind had suddenly discovered the fey were real.

“What happened?” I asked, looking up at Meghan. She closed her eyes, making dread settle in my stomach. Had Keirran really started a Faery apocalypse? “Was the Veil destroyed?” I choked out. “Can everyone see the fey now?”

“No,” Meghan whispered, making me slump in relief. “It’s not possible to permanently destroy the Veil,” she went on. “Even if the ritual had worked the way it was supposed to, the Veil would have eventually re-formed. But...” She hesitated, her voice going grave. “When you died, the entire Nevernever felt it. There was this surge, this ripple of emotion from the mortal world, the likes of which Faery has never felt before. It went through the courts, the wyldwood, Mag Tuiredh, everywhere. We didn’t know what it was at first, then reports started coming in from the human world. For a few minutes after your death, Ethan, the Veil was gone. For a few minutes...”

“People could see the fey,” I finished in a whisper.

Meghan nodded. “Thankfully, after you revived, the Veil came back quickly, and minutes afterward, everyone forgot what they’d seen. But, in that short time, the human world was in chaos. Many people were injured trying to escape, kill or capture the faeries they came across. Some went mad, or thought they had gone mad. A great many half-breeds were hurt, some even killed, when the humans saw them for what they were. It was only a few minutes, but the event still left its mark. Both our worlds are still recovering, even if one doesn’t know from what.”

I felt sick and tried not to think of what I knew could have happened the night I had died. “Mom and Dad?” I asked in a strangled voice. I never thought I’d have to worry about the ones I left behind in the mortal realm, the normal world, but all bets were off, it seemed. “Where were they that night?”

“They’re fine,” Meghan assured me, sounding relieved herself. “They were both asleep when it happened, and your anti-faery charms kept their house safe. By the time they woke up, everything was mostly back to normal. Though there was a lot of confusion, fear and anger in the days that followed.”

I breathed deep, dispelling the knot of panic in my stomach. At least my family was all right, safe from the faery madness that had apparently swept the world. Though something else nagged at me. Frowning, I raked my fuzzy memories of that night, trying to recall what was real and what was nightmare. There was something I was forgetting...or someone. Keirran and I had gone to Ireland together to meet the Forgotten Queen, but we had left someone else behind...

“Kenzie!” I gasped, feeling my gut knot once more. Kenzie had had the amulet—it had saved her life a few times while we were in the Nevernever—but she’d given it back to me when I’d left her in the hospital that last night. My mind swirled with memories of a slight, defiant girl with dark brown eyes and blue streaks in her hair. Mackenzie St. James had been the third part of our little trio, a girl who bargained with faery queens to gain the Sight, argued with obnoxious talking cats and blatantly refused to stay safely behind in the mortal world. Cheerful, stubborn, relentless, she had followed me into Faery, ignoring all my attempts to keep her at arm’s length, and I had, against all my better judgment, fallen completely in love with her.

I’d told her as much, the night Keirran and I had gone to Ireland to meet the Forgotten Queen. We’d had to leave her behind because Keirran had picked a fight—with Titania, of all faeries, the freaking queen of the Summer Court—and Kenzie had gotten caught in the middle. I remembered my whispered confession that night in her hospital room, remembered my promise to return, and felt like throwing up. How much time had passed in the real world? Was Kenzie all right? Was she still waiting for me?

Or had she moved on, convinced that Faery had swallowed me whole once more, and I wasn’t coming back this time?

“Where’s Kenzie?” I asked Meghan, who gave me a concerned look. “She was in the hospital the night I left with Keirran. Is she all right? Where is she now?”

Meghan sighed. “I don’t know, Ethan,” she said, making my pulse spike with worry. “I wasn’t aware the girl was injured. Had I known, I would have sent someone to check up on her. But between you and Keirran and the upcoming war, I haven’t had time to think of much else. I’m sorry.”

“War? What war?”

For a moment, Meghan seemed to stare right through me, her expression one of guilt, anger and grief. But then she rose, and the persona of the Iron Queen filled the room, composed and resolved, making the air crackle with power.

“The Forgotten Queen has grown strong enough to invade the Nevernever.” Meghan answered calmly, though her eyes were hard. “Her army of Forgotten have left the mortal realm and have crossed into the wyldwood. There is to be a council tomorrow night in Tir Na Nog to decide what must be done. If it is to be war, we are at a disadvantage.”

“Why?”

She paused, a thread of anguish creeping into her voice as she answered, turning my stomach inside out.

“Because Keirran is leading them.”

CHAPTER THREE

CRASHING THE UNSEELIE COUNCIL

I stared out the window as the carriage rattled through the streets of Mag Tuiredh, the Victorian steampunk city of the Iron fey. The wide cobblestone streets teemed with faeries, and the dying evening sun glinted off bright metal, copper, wire and clockwork, mostly from the fey themselves. Gremlins skittered over the walls and towers, flashing neon blue grins. A trio of wraiths made of rags and iron cables fluttered across the street, leaving the smell of battery acid in their wake. A green-skinned faery in coattails and a top hat paused at a corner and bowed his head as we passed, a rusty clockwork hound sitting patiently beside him.

Glitch, Meghan’s first lieutenant, sat across from me, the strands of neon lightning in his hair making the walls of the carriage flicker like a strobe light. It was giving me a headache, and I’d already been feeling kinda sick. Between Meghan’s news last night and the nagging dread about where we were going now, I could probably puke with very little effort.

Also, I was still recovering from being run through with a sword. That might’ve had something to do with it.

“Are you well, Prince Ethan?” Glitch asked, regarding me with concern.

I glanced his way, trying not to be sullen. The slight faery lounged in the opposite corner, watching my every move. Like all Gentry, Glitch looked young, no older than me, though I knew he’d been in the Iron Realm since before Meghan became queen. I also knew Meghan put him here to babysit me, and, though it wasn’t his fault, I resented being under the watch of some punky-looking faery with purple plasma-globe hair.

“Yeah.” I sighed, staring out the window again. “I’m fine.” I wanted to tell him not to call me prince, but it would do no good. I was the queen’s brother. Therefore, at least to the faeries of Mag Tuiredh, I was a prince.

Although, where we were headed, I doubted even being the Iron Queen’s brother would do me any good.

Tir Na Nog. The Winter Court, home of Queen Mab and the Unseelie fey. And the last place I wanted to find myself in the Nevernever. All of Faery was dangerous, of course; even Meghan’s kingdom was not completely safe, but it paled in comparison to Mab’s realm. The Iron fey were a weird, quirky, eccentric bunch; They could be annoying, They could be deadly, but from what I’d seen, They wouldn’t rip your face off just for the fun of it. The same could not be said for the Unseelie Court, which boasted entertaining things like goblins, redcaps and ogres. And all the dark, twisted creatures you did not want to meet in a dark alley or under your bed.

You wanted this, I reminded myself. You insisted on coming. You argued with Meghan to be here. This is your own damn fault.

A lump settled in my stomach as I remembered the heated words from this morning and the hasty actions that led to this trip.

* * *

“Sire, you’re not supposed to be up.”

I glared at the faery in the long white coat, wondering if he had been lurking outside my door, waiting to pounce as soon as I got out of bed. It was early afternoon, and I’d already been poked, prodded and fussed over far longer than I thought was necessary. Meghan was off ruling the Iron Realm, so I had been left to the mercy of several attentive but annoying healer fey, who swarmed around me with needles and thermometers, asking multiple times if I was in any pain. My repeated assurances that I was fine seemed only to convince them that I was not. Finally, after deciding for themselves that I was in no danger of dying a second time, the swarm had left me, with firm instructions to stay in bed and not push myself.

Yeah, like that was going to happen.

“I’m fine,” I told this new healer, who arched his bushy eyebrows at me, making me wince. I’m fine seemed to be their code for I’m really feeling quite awful and need immediate medical attention. “Where are my clothes?” I went on, hoping to stall him from calling the rest of the swarm. “I don’t need to rest—I need to talk to my sister. Where is she?”

He gave me a dubious look. I glowered back. Truthfully, I wasn’t feeling the greatest. My legs were shaking, and just standing up was making the room sway, a side effect from being horizontal the past several weeks, I guessed. But I couldn’t lie there like a vegetable while so many things were happening around me. Last night, after Meghan had dropped that bombshell about Keirran, the healer swarm had arrived, preventing me from asking the ten thousand questions swirling through my head. I’d tried waiting until they left to resume talking to my sister, but whatever faery concoction they made me drink must’ve been a sleeping potion of some kind, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up.

I didn’t need more sleep. I needed to know what was going on, with Keirran, the Forgotten and the entire Nevernever. I needed to contact my parents, let them know I was all right.

And Kenzie. My insides churned. Where was she now? What had happened to her in the time I’d been gone? Was she still waiting for me? Or had she given me up for dead and moved on, returning to her old, normal life, one without dangerous faeries and deadly magic?

A chill crept up my spine, and I almost dropped onto the bed again. One month in Faery likely meant several had passed in the real world. How long had it been since I last saw Kenzie, lying in that hospital room? Her illness...

The cold spread to all parts of my body, and I was suddenly torn between curling into a ball on the bed and punching the walls until my knuckles were bloody. What if...what if she’d never left that hospital? What if I went back home, and Mackenzie St. James was no longer there?

“Sire.” The healer stepped forward, a note of concern in his voice. “You really should lie down. You’ve gone quite pale.”

“No,” I rasped, waving him off. I’d done enough sleeping, and I couldn’t get home to see Kenzie now. I had to get out and do something before I drove myself nuts. “I’m fine. I just...need to find my sister.”

He blinked. “Her Majesty is in the war room with the prince consort and her advisers. But they’re in a private meeting and have ordered that no one disturb them. Are you sure you don’t want to lie down, rest a bit?”

I left him sputtering protests and walked into the hallway, pausing a moment to get my bearings. I had no idea where the war room was and didn’t think the healer would give me directions. An Iron knight, tall and imposing in full plate armor, shot me a sideways look from where he stood at the end of the hall, but the stern face and large sword made me nervous. A gremlin, bat-eared and razor-toothed, peered down from a chandelier and gave me a sharklike grin, but I was not going to waste time trying to have a sane conversation with a gremlin. Two packrats—short, hunched faeries carrying enormous mounds of junk on their backs—waddled down the hall, chittering in their strange, squeaky language, and I pushed myself off the frame.

“Hey,” I called. “Wait a second.” They stopped and blinked up at me as I stepped in front of them. “I need to find my sister. Where’s the war room?”

They cocked their heads, and I wondered if this had been a good idea after all. I knew they could understand me, but I didn’t speak packrat and didn’t have time for a game of charades in the middle of the Iron Palace. “I don’t need a detailed map,” I went on. “Just point me in the right direction.”

They held a short, squeaky conversation with many head bobs and hand gestures, before turning and beckoning me to follow. Relieved, I trailed the faeries down several long, winding hallways, passing knights, gremlins and countless other Iron fey. They stared at me with varying degrees of curiosity, wariness and awe. As if I was the monster, the thing out of place.

I supposed I was.

Finally, they took me through a wide-open doorway into an antechamber I’d seen once before, large and airy, with a massive iron chair at the end of a long carpet. Meghan’s throne room. It was mostly empty now, only a few Iron knights standing in corners and one wire nymph polishing the steps of the dais. The packrats hung back in the doorway but pointed across the chamber to another door on the far wall, guarded by a single Iron knight. I smiled and nodded, letting them know I was grateful without thanking them outright. I didn’t know the particular rules of the Iron Court, but saying the words thank you in Faery was generally a no-no. The packrats smiled back, chittered something I didn’t understand and waddled away.

I took a deep breath, clearing the faint light-headedness, and walked across the throne room to the door on the other side. The Iron knight watched me approach, narrow face impassive, and didn’t move. I raised my chin and tried to sound authoritative, like I was supposed to be here.

“I need to see my sister. It’s important.”

He stared at me long enough to make me wonder if I was going to be escorted back to my room “for my own protection,” before he bowed his head and calmly stepped aside. Trying not to shake with relief, I walked through the door and followed a short hall until it ended at another door, this one unguarded. Carefully, I tested the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it turned easily in my palm, and familiar voices drifted through the crack as I eased the door open.

“And you are certain it was him?” said a low voice that I recognized instantly, making my hackles rise. Of course, he would be here. I caught myself, trying to banish the feelings of anger and resentment toward that particular faery. They were just habit now, part of the lingering grief from when I’d thought he had stolen my sister from me. It wasn’t Ash’s fault that Meghan never came home. She loved him, and she had chosen to stay in the Nevernever, to become the Iron Queen. I was tired of being angry, tired of the bitterness that ate at me from the inside. I didn’t like the thought that I had died hating part of my family.

“Yes, sire.” This second voice shook a bit, as if its owner would rather be anywhere else. “I saw him myself. He was with a small contingent of Forgotten, in the wyldwood. Right outside Arcadia’s borders.”

“Scouting the area.”

“I believe so, sire. Though, when we tried following them, they disappeared. It’s as if they vanished into thin air.”

“So, it’s true.” This from Meghan, her voice grief-stricken, resigned, furious and terrifying all at once. “The Forgotten intend to attack the courts. I’ll have to tell Oberon that the Forgotten are practically on their doorstep, and that Keirran...” She trailed off, took a deep breath. “Glitch, send patrols to all our borders. Tell them to be on the lookout for Keirran and to report any sightings immediately. If they do see Keirran, do not attempt to talk to him. Until we know his intentions and why he remains with the Forgotten, we have to treat Keirran as a potential threat. Is that understood?”

There was a general murmur of consent, though Glitch’s voice, angry and frustrated, chimed in a moment later. “Why is he doing this?” the first lieutenant almost snarled. “This is his home. Why is he throwing everything away to side with the enemy?”

“Because he thinks he’s saving them,” I answered, stepping into the room.

Instantly, a table of about ten faeries straightened and turned toward me. Meghan was standing at the head with a tall faery in black close beside her. His silver eyes met mine across the room, cool and assessing, and I gave a small nod.

“Ethan,” Meghan said, a note of weary disapproval in her voice. “You are not supposed to be up right now.”

“Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me.” I walked to the table, clenching my jaw to keep the pain from my face, to appear perfectly normal. The fey watched me curiously, but it was Meghan’s gaze I sought, meeting her blue eyes as I reached the table and put a hand against the surface to steady myself.

“I know Keirran,” I said, speaking to Meghan but addressing them all. “I was with him when he went to the Lady. The Forgotten Queen. He...he really wanted to save them, the exiles and the Forgotten, from ceasing to exist.” My gaze went to Ash, standing quietly beside the queen, and for a moment, I wondered if I should reveal the other reason Keirran had wanted to help. That, long ago, Ash had gone through the place where all the Forgotten went to die, and unknowingly woken up the Lady.

I decided against it. The damage was already done, and accusing Ash of this whole mess wouldn’t help anything. Besides, it didn’t excuse Keirran’s actions. I was done helping him; even this, explaining why the prince was with the Forgotten, was to help my sister understand her son’s douchy behavior. Keirran was family, but he was not my friend. I’d tried to help, I had stuck my neck out for him, and he had literally stabbed me in the back. I could excuse a lot, but not that. If I ever saw my nephew again, I was going to kick his ass.

“Save them?” Glitch shook his head, making the lightning in his hair flicker. “By waging war on the other courts? By threatening his own kingdom, his own family? Why? How will that accomplish anything?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Meghan’s voice was steely and resigned at the same time. “What matters is that Keirran and an army of Forgotten are moving on the Nevernever. We must take this news to Tir Na Nog, to the war council of Summer and Winter. If the Forgotten do intend to attack, we must be prepared.” Her gaze went around the table and fastened on Glitch. “Make ready the army,” she ordered, and Glitch snapped to attention. “We depart for the Winter Court first thing tomorrow. Dismissed.”

The crowd of fey bowed and departed the room, leaving me alone with the rulers of Mag Tuiredh.

When the door closed, Meghan put both hands on the table and bowed her head with a shaky sigh. “So, it really is happening,” she murmured. “The prophecy has come to pass. I really am going to wage war against my son.”

I didn’t know what to say, if I should even say anything, but Ash moved close, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We don’t know that yet,” he said gently. Meghan’s hand came up to clutch his, as if he was a lifeline keeping her from drowning. “We don’t know how far gone he is,” Ash continued, “or what he might have promised. Perhaps there is still time to talk to him.”

“He killed Ethan, Ash!” Meghan spun on him, as if she’d forgotten I was standing right there. “In cold blood. He stabbed him, sacrificed him, to make way for these Forgotten. I never thought...” She covered her face with one hand. “Even after the prophecy, and the Oracle’s warning, I never thought he would do it. What’s happened to him, Ash? We did everything we could to prevent this, and now...”

Ash held Meghan’s shoulders and peered down at her with intense silver eyes. “Nothing is certain yet,” he told her. “Ethan is alive, and neither Keirran nor the Forgotten have attacked. We can fix this, Meghan, I swear it. There is still time.”

“Um...” I ventured, reminding them that I was still in the room. They turned, giving me somber looks, and I swallowed hard. “I might have an idea,” I said, wondering if they thought of me as an intruder, a human pest who had no stake in this war. I thought Meghan might order me back to my room to “rest,” but she only nodded for me to go on.

“Keirran is trying to save the Forgotten and the exiles,” I continued. “Tearing away the Veil was supposed to stop them from Fading into nothingness. For some reason, he thinks he’s responsible for the Forgotten. And...he’s trying to save Annwyl, too.” Annwyl, his exiled love from the Summer Court, had been Fading away, as well. In fact, this whole stupid mess started because Keirran was trying to find a cure for her. “We even went to Arcadia to ask Titania to lift her exile,” I went on, and noted Meghan’s and Ash’s grave looks as they probably guessed how that little endeavor had gone. “When she refused, Keirran flipped out and attacked her. He was pretty desperate at that point, I think. But, maybe if the courts can come to some kind of accord with the Forgotten and let Annwyl come home, Keirran will back down.”

I wondered what the hell I was doing, defending Keirran like this. If he was with the Forgotten and marching to wage war on the courts, let him deal with the mess he had caused. Let him see the consequences of his actions.

It’s not for Keirran, I thought fiercely. I’m not defending him; I’m trying to help my sister prevent a faery war from breaking out. Keirran, the Forgotten and the Lady can go to hell, but if Meghan has to fight her own son, it will destroy her.

Meghan nodded and seemed to regain some of her composure. “The council tomorrow is to decide if Keirran and the Forgotten are truly a threat,” she said, sounding thoughtful. “If we can keep Summer and Winter from declaring war, perhaps that will allow us enough time to find Keirran. We still don’t know what the Lady really wants. If all she wishes is for her people to survive, then maybe we can work something out. Something that will allow the Forgotten to exist within Faery and not Fade away.”