The Iron Knight

CHAPTER FIFTEEN THE TESTING GROUNDS

Ariella found the stairs. We made our way down the narrow, crumbling path to the bottom of the cliff, gazing out into the void. A rock floated past my face; I tapped it and sent it spinning away into space.

“The end of the Nevernever,” Ariella mused, her silver hair floating around her like a bright cloud. She sounded sad again, and I wanted to comfort her, but restrained myself. “How many have been here, I wonder? How many have seen what we’re seeing?”

“How many have dropped off the edge and are drifting through space right now?” Puck added, peering over the end of the cliff while hanging on to a sickly tree trunk growing from the rocks. “I keep expecting a skeleton to float by. Or maybe they just keep falling forever?”

“Let’s not find out,” I said, turning to the castle, feeling it beckon me like a distant siren call. “The Testing Grounds are our goal—we’re going to reach it without anyone falling off the edge of the world or drifting through space. Watch out for each other, and be careful.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me, ice-boy. Gravity isn’t so much of a problem when you’re a bird.” Puck glanced at me and sighed in mock aggravation. “Someday, I have got to teach you people how to fly.”

A river of floating rocks stood between us and the castle. Grimalkin strode up to one and looked back at us, twitching his tail.

“I will meet you at the castle,” he stated, and hopped lightly onto one of the rocks. It spun lazily, easily holding the cat’s weight. Grimalkin blinked at us as the rock drifted away. “I trust you can make it to our destination without me for once,” he said, and headed for the castle, leaping from rock to rock with the inborn grace of a cat.

“You know, sometimes I just hate him,” Puck grumbled.

I stepped onto one of the rocks, bracing myself as it tilted slightly, but it appeared to hold my weight well enough. “Come on,” I said, holding out a hand for Ariella. She took it, and I pulled her up beside me, though she didn’t meet my eyes. “We’re almost there.”

We picked our way over the treacherous terrain, leaping from rock to rock, trying not to look down. I glanced back once and saw the door of the temple jutting from the face of a cliff, and that cliff sprang from a wall of briars, stretching away to either side, farther than I could see. It emphasized the vast infinity of this part of the world and made me feel very small.

“I wonder if anything lives out here,” Puck mused as we crossed a shattered stone bridge, twirling aimlessly through space. “I thought the End of the World was supposed to be filled with monsters and here there be dragons and things like that. I don’t see any … oh.”

I knew by the tone of his voice that I wasn’t going to like what I saw next. “Don’t tell me.” I sighed without turning around. “There’s some sort of huge monster out there, and now it’s coming toward us.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Puck sounded faintly breathless. “And, uh, you probably don’t want to look down, either.”

I peered over the side of the bridge.

At first, I thought I was looking at a continent floating beneath us; I could see lakes and trees and even a few houses scattered about. But then the continent twisted around with a flash of scales and teeth and drifted toward us, a leviathan so huge it defied belief. It spiraled up beside the bridge, a mountain of scales and fins and flippers, rising out of the void. Its eye was like a small moon, pale and all-seeing, but we were insects beneath its gaze, dust mites, too microscopic for it to know we were there. An entire city was perched on its back, gleaming white towers standing at the edge of a glistening lake. Smaller creatures, as big as whales, swam beside it, looking like minnows compared to its bulk. As we stood gaping at it, unable to move or look away, it twisted lazily through the air and continued into the etherealness of space.

For a long moment, we could only stare after it, hardly able to process what we had seen. Finally, Ariella drew in a shaky breath and shook her head in disbelief. “That … was …” She seemed unable to find the right description.

“Incredible,” I finished softly, still gazing after the creature, and no one disagreed with me. Not even Puck.

“Here there be dragons,” he murmured in an awed voice.

Gathering my wits, I took a step back. “Come on,” I said, glancing at the others, who seemed a little dazed. “Let’s find the Testing Grounds and get this over with so we can go home.”

Leaping carefully from rock to rock, wary now of the monsters at the End of the World, we finally reached the gates of the castle. Past a courtyard filled with statues and twisted trees of a kind I’d never seen before, up another flight of steps flanked by snarling gargoyles, Grimalkin waited for us at the hallway into the castle.

He was not alone. A familiar robed, hooded figure stood beside him, watching us as we walked up the stairs.

“You have come far,” the Guardian intoned, nodding his head. “Few have made it to this point, and fewer still can keep their sanity intact at the End of the World. But your journey is not yet over, knight. The trials await, and they will be more harrowing than anything you have encountered thus far. No one has ever survived what you are about to face. I give you one last chance to depart, to turn around and leave this place alive and whole. But know this—if you leave, you will remember nothing of what brought you here. You will never find the End of the World again. What is your decision?”

“I’ve come this far,” I said without hesitation. “I’m not backing out now. Bring on your tests. When I leave this place, it will be as a human with a soul, or not at all.”

The Guardian nodded. “If that is your choice.” It swept out an arm, and a ripple of power went through the air, freezing me in place. “Let it be known, before these witnesses, that the former Winter prince Ash has accepted the trials of the Guardian, the prize for completing the tests being a mortal soul.” It lowered its arm, and I could move again. “Your first trial begins when dawn touches the outside world. Until then, the castle is yours. When the time comes, I will find you.”

And it was gone.

Grimalkin yawned and looked up at me, cat eyes blinking. “I am supposed to show you your rooms,” he said in a bored voice, as if the very idea wearied him. “Follow me, then. And do try to keep up. It would be vastly annoying if you became lost in here.”

THE CASTLE WAS DIM and empty, with torches set into brackets, and candles flickering along the walls. Except for the flames and candlelight, nothing moved; there were no insects scuttling over the flagstones, no servants prowling the halls. It felt frozen in time, like a reflection on the other side of a mirror—perfect, but lifeless.

And it was endless, much like the void that floated just outside the windows. I got the distinct feeling, following Grimalkin down its many halls, that I could wander its chambers and corridors forever and not see the entirety of the castle.

Regardless, we found the guest rooms easily enough, on account of the open doors and the crackling fireplaces along each wall. These rooms were fairly well lit, with food, drink and a clean bed already laid out for us, though there were no servants to speak of. Puck and Ariella each vanished into their separate chambers, though each room was easily big enough for the three of us and I was wary of being separated in this huge place. But Puck, after peering into a room, whooped when he saw the food-laden table and vanished through the door with a hasty, “Later, ice-boy,” slamming the door behind him. Ariella gave me a tired smile and said she was going to turn in for the night, declining my offer of staying through dinner. Grimalkin, of course, trotted down the hall without any explanation of where he was going and vanished into the shadows, leaving me alone.

Truthfully, I was relieved. There were so many thoughts swirling around my head, and I think the others recognized my need to be alone, to process all that had happened and to prepare for what was to come. Or perhaps they were weary of me, as well.

I ate a little, prowled my room, and tried to read some of the huge tomes on the bookcase in the corner to pass the time. Most were written in strange, ancient languages I didn’t recognize, some oddly blank, some with runes and symbols that made my eyes burn just from looking at them. One book let out a chilling wail when I touched it, and I quickly withdrew my hand. I finally discovered, of all things, a small book of poems by the mortal author e.e. cummings, and leafed through that for a while, pausing at the poem, “All in green went my love riding,” one of my favorites. I smiled wistfully as I followed the stanzas, reminded of all the hunts Ariella and I had been on and their sudden end.

Guilt gnawed at me, though it wasn’t quite as sharp as before. I’d finally come to terms with what I felt, both for Ariella and Meghan. I would always love Ariella, and there was still a part of me that longed for the past, for those days when it was me and Ari and Puck before—before her death and my oath and the decades of duels and fighting and bloodshed. But those days were gone. And I was tired of living in the past. If I managed to survive here, I would actually have a chance at a future.

Still, I couldn’t sleep; my mind worried at the situation like a dog with a bone and my body was too hyped up to relax. I was sitting in the window with my back against the frame, watching the stars and bits of rock drift by, almost close enough to touch, when my door creaked open and footsteps padded into the room.

“Don’t you ever knock?” I asked Puck without turning around. He snorted.

“Hi, I’m Robin Goodfellow, have we met?” Walking up beside me, he leaned against the frame and crossed his arms, staring out at the End of the World. After a moment, he shook his head. “You know, out of all the places we’ve seen, and we’ve seen some weird places, this probably takes the cake for Most Crazy Landscape Ever. No one will believe the stories when we get home.” He sighed and shot me a sideways glance. “Are you sure you’re up for this, ice-boy?” he asked. “I know you think you can handle anything, but this is some serious stuff you’re going to face. Crazy Ash just doesn’t have the same ring as Don’t-bother-me-or-I’ll-kill-you Ash.”

I smirked at him. “You’re awfully concerned for an archnemesis.”

“Psh, I just don’t want to have to tell Meghan that you turned into a vegetable while trying to gain a soul. I don’t see how that would turn out well for me.”

Smiling, I gazed out the window again. In the far distance, something like a giant manta ray soared lazily by, fins rippling like water. “I don’t know,” I admitted softly, watching it vanish behind an asteroid. “I don’t know if I’m ready. But it’s not just Meghan that I’m doing this for now.” I glanced down at my hands, resting in my lap. “I think … this is who I’m supposed to be … if that makes any sense.”

“Nope, that’s just screwed up.” I shot him an annoyed look, and Puck grinned to soften the words. He raised his hands. “But, if that’s the way you feel, then more power to you. At least you know what you want. Just thought I’d make sure.” With a grunt, he shoved himself off the wall, tapping my shoulder as he passed. “Well, good luck to you, prince. There’s a bottle of plum wine and a fluffy down pillow calling my name. You need me, I’ll be in my room, hopefully well into a stupor.”

“Puck,” I called before he could leave the room.

He turned in the doorframe. “Yeah?”

“If I … don’t make it back …”

I felt him nod. “I’ll take care of her,” he promised quietly. “Both of them.” And the door clicked softly behind him.

I didn’t sleep. I stayed in the window and watched the stars, thinking of Meghan, and Ariella and myself. Remembering those bright, shining moments with each of them … in case I didn’t see them again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN THE FIRST TEST

“It is time.”

The Guardian’s voice cut through the silence, and I jerked my head toward the robed figure in the middle of the room. It stood expectantly, gripping its staff, watching me through the darkness of the cowl. The door behind it was still closed.

“Are you ready?” it asked without preamble. I took a deep breath and nodded.

“Then follow me.”

Puck and Ariella joined us as soon as we left the room. Together, we trailed him through the vast halls of the castle until he led us outside, into an ice-covered garden. Skeletal trees stood encased in crystal, sparkling with icicles, and a fountain in the middle spouted frozen water. For a moment, it reminded me of home, of the Winter Court, before I shook that thought away. Tir Na Nog was not my home any longer.

Above us, across a stone bridge over nothing, a huge jagged mountain rose up from the depths, the peak barely visible through the haze that surrounded it. Wreathed in ice, it glittered in the cold lights of the stars, slick and sharp and treacherous.

The Guardian turned to me. “Your first trial begins now. From here on, you must do this alone. Have you prepared yourself?”

“Yes.”

The cowl nodded once. “Then meet me at the top.” And it was gone, leaving us to stare at the mountain for a few moments of silence.

“Well,” Puck remarked, gazing up at the looming obstacle with his hands on his hips. “As tests go, climbing a mountain isn’t that bad.”

Ariella shook her head. “I seriously doubt that’s all there is to it.” She glanced at me, worried and solemn. “Be careful, Ash.”

I glared up at the obstacle before me. The first thing that stood between me and a soul. I clenched my fists and smiled.

“I’ll be back soon,” I muttered, and sprinted across the bridge. Leaping onto the base of the mountain, I started to climb.

PULLING MYSELF ONTO A NARROW ledge, I sat down with my back against the wall to catch my breath. I didn’t know how long I’d been climbing, but it felt like days. And I was still a good way from the top.

Far below, the castle looked comically small, like a child’s toy, even as large as it was. The mountain was proving harder and more treacherous to climb than I’d expected. The jagged obsidian rocks were as sharp as a knife’s edge in places, and the ice refused to honor my Unseelie heritage. I had never slipped or stumbled on ice before, but here, it seemed all bets were off. My hands were cut open from gripping the rock, trying to balance myself, and I left smears of blood against the mountainside where I passed.

I shivered, rubbing my arms. It was also freezing up here, which was a complete shock for me, as I never got cold. The sensation was so alien and unfamiliar I didn’t know what it was at first. My teeth chattered, and I crossed my arms, trying, for the first time in my life, to conserve heat. So this was what it was like for mortals and Summer fey in the Unseelie realm. I’d always wondered why they looked so uncomfortable in the Winter palace. Now I knew.

I licked dry, cracked lips and pushed myself to my feet, staring up at the top. It was still so far away. I started climbing again.

The jagged cliffs went on. I lost track of time. I lost more blood as the bitter cold ate into my limbs and turned them heavy and clumsy. Eventually, I wasn’t thinking anymore, my body moving on its own, just putting one limb in front of the other. Exhausted, bleeding, and shaking with cold, I finally pulled myself onto a ledge, only to find there was no mountain left. A flat expanse of rock and ice stretched out before me. I had finally reached the top.

The Guardian waited, patient and motionless, in the center of the plateau. Panting, I pushed myself to my feet and walked toward it, forcing myself not to shiver, to ignore the cold. It didn’t move or say a word as I came to stand before it, the blood from my hands dripping slowly to the ground.

“I’m here,” I rasped into the silence. “I passed the first of your tests.”

A deep chuckle. “No,” the Guardian said, making my stomach sink. It lifted its staff a few inches into the air, and a ripple of power erupted from the tip, spreading outward into space. “You have only found the location of the first testing ground. We are not done yet, knight. The real test begins … now.”

It brought the staff down, striking the point on the rocks. Cracks appeared from the tip, spreading outward, as a rumbling shook the ground. I dove away as part of the earth collapsed beneath me, revealing gaping holes deep into the mountain. A hellish red glow spilled out of the craters, and a wild shrieking filled the air, along with the sound of wings.

“Survive,” the Guardian told me, and disappeared.

Creatures poured from the opening in a mad rush of wings; scaly, furry, feathered and smooth. They looked like dragons, or wyverns, or monstrous birds, a chaotic mass of wings and claws and teeth, none of them the same. Except for one thing. Their chest cavities were open, and where their hearts would lie, there was only a void, a black hole filled with stars and black spaces of their own. The beings exploded from the gash, wailing in voices that seemed to echo across the emptiness of time, and dropped from the sky to attack.

I drew my sword, startled by how cold the hilt was, and slashed at the first creature, cutting through a spindly neck. It shrieked and collapsed on itself, the hole in its chest seeming to draw it in. Crying, it was sucked into its own black hole, and I leaped back as the rest of the flock descended on me all at once.

I stumbled, my limbs heavy with cold, and one of the creatures struck out with a furry talon, catching my shoulder and ripping a gash down my chest. Pain erupted through me, greater than any I’d felt before, and I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming. My body wasn’t moving as it should, too clumsy and awkward, as if it belonged to someone else. Another creature slashed at me as I retreated, striking my face and leaving deep claw marks across my cheek.

Half-blinded by pain, I lurched backward, bringing up my arm to unleash a hail of ice daggers into the swarm. If anything, it would at least slow them down. But as I swept my hand out as I had done thousands of times before, nothing happened. Only a few spits of ice, instead of the deadly flurry I was used to. Stunned, I opened myself up to my glamour, trying to draw it from the air as I’d always done.

Nothing. No glamour, no magic, no swirling emotions or colors. I felt a deep stab of terror and loss as I backed away, trying to think. Had a binding been placed on me, locking away my glamour? Was there a seal over the area, preventing magic use? I realized with horror that it was none of these. Even through a binding or a seal, I would have been able to sense my glamour. I felt only emptiness. As if I had never had magic in the first place.

In the split second my guard was down, one of the creatures pounced on me with a snarl, driving us both to the ground. I felt teeth in my shoulder before I plunged my blade through its throat and it was sucked into oblivion. But the other creatures swarmed around me, shrieking, clawing, biting and kicking. I struck out with my weapon, slashing wildly from my back, and several creatures vanished into themselves. But there were always more, tearing and ripping, almost frantic as they pressed in, their shrill voices echoing all around me. I felt jaws crush my arm, hooked talons in my stomach, gouging it open. I felt my flesh being torn away, my blood misting in the air and streaming to the ground. I tried to get up, to make one last stand, to live, but the pain suddenly drew a red-and-black curtain over my vision, and I knew nothing more.

AND THEN, IT WAS OVER. I was lying on the cold stone floor of the castle, whole and intact, the Guardian gazing down at me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Puck and Ariella peering on anxiously, but the pain streaming from every part of my body made it difficult to focus on anything.

“I failed.” The words were bitter in my mouth, the weight in my chest threatening to crush me. But the Guardian shook its cowled head.

“No. You were never meant to survive that, knight. Even had you killed the first wave, they would have kept coming. No matter what you did, or how long you stood against them, they would have torn you apart in the end.”

I wanted to ask why. Why I’d been spared. Why I wasn’t dead yet. But, through the pain and the confusion and the shock of still being alive, my mind was still reeling from everything that had just happened. The strangeness of my own body, suddenly weak and awkward, refusing to move as it should. The blinding pain, the agony I couldn’t shut out as I used to. And the complete emptiness I felt when I tried to use glamour was worst of all.

“This is what a mortal body feels like,” the Guardian continued, as if reading my thoughts. “It is physically impossible for a human to move as you do. Their bodies are clumsy and tire easily. They are susceptible to cold, weakness and pain. They cannot draw on any magic to aid them. They are, in the end, quite unremarkable. Strength is the first thing you must give up if you wish to gain a soul.”

The Guardian paused, allowing time for that statement to sink in. I could only lie there, panting, as my mind recovered from the shock of being torn apart. “The first trial is over,” the Guardian intoned. “Prepare yourself, knight. The second begins at dawn.”

When it disappeared, Ariella hurried over and knelt beside me. “Can you stand?”

Wincing, I struggled to a sitting position. My wounds were gone, I was alive, but my body still blazed with pain. Taking her hand, I let her pull me to my feet, clenching my jaw to keep the gasp from escaping. “I didn’t realize … how fragile humans really are.”

“Well, duh.” Puck strolled over, not quite able to mask the worry on his face. “I could’ve told you that. Though some are stronger than others. Or more stubborn.” He crossed his arms, giving me an appraising look. “You okay, ice-boy?”

I didn’t answer. Turning from Ariella, I ignored her offered arm and limped away, down the long corridors, back to my room. They followed silently, at a distance, but I didn’t turn to look back. More than once, I nearly fell but forced myself to keep going, without help.

In my room I collapsed on the bed, cursing my strange, unfamiliar body and the weakness that came with it.

How am I going to protect her like this? How can I protect anyone like this?

Puck and Ariella hovered in the doorway. A part of me wanted to tell them to leave, hating that they saw me weak and helpless. But, my whole life, I had pushed others away, closing myself off to the world and everyone around me. It had brought me nothing but more pain, despite my attempts to freeze everything out. That was why I was here, after all; I was trying to become someone else.

I shifted to my back and put an arm over my face, closing my eyes. “I’m not going to throw icicles if you step through the door.” I sighed. “So you can stop lurking and come in already.”

I felt them pause, imagined them exchanging glances, but then footsteps padded into the room. Ariella perched on the edge of the mattress, laying a soft hand on my arm. “Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked.

“Some,” I admitted, relaxing under her touch. “It’s getting better, though.” And it was, the fire beneath my skin ebbing away, as if my body finally realized it was whole and healthy, not torn apart on a desolate peak.

“What happened up there, ice-boy?”

“What do you think happened?” I lowered my arm and sat up, scrubbing a hand over my eyes. “I lost. I can’t use glamour, I can’t move like I used to. My head was telling me to move a certain way, to go faster, and I couldn’t. I got cold, Puck. Do you know what that was like, when I finally realized what was happening?” I leaned forward, raking my hands through my hair, shoving it back. “I would’ve died,” I said softly, reluctant to admit it. “If the Guardian had left me there, I would have died. Those things would’ve torn me apart.”

“But you’re not dead,” Puck pointed out. “And the Guardian didn’t say you failed. At least, we weren’t tossed out on our ears. So what’s the problem, ice-boy?”

I didn’t answer, but Ariella, who was watching my face, drew in a quiet breath. “Meghan,” she guessed, making me wince. “You’re worried about Meghan, how she’ll react to seeing you like this.”

“I can’t protect her like this,” I said bitterly, clenching a fist, fighting the urge to punch the mattress. “I’m useless—a liability. I don’t want her to feel she has to constantly watch out for me, that I can’t hold my own anymore.” I sighed in frustration and leaned back, thumping my head against the wall. It was satisfyingly painful. “I guess I didn’t realize what being human really meant.”

You do not know the first thing about mortality, prince-who-is-not. The Bone Witch’s voice echoed in my head, mocking me with its smugness. Why would you want to be like them?

Puck snorted. “And what, you think that if you’re human you can’t protect anyone?” he asked, crossing his arms and glaring at me. “That’s a load of crap. How did you think you were going to protect her while she was in the Iron Kingdom, prince? I thought we were here to get you a soul, so you could be with her without your skin melting off. Are you telling me, now that you’re more human, you don’t want to be with her?”

I glared at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Puck loomed over me as if daring me to argue. “The way I see it, there are only two options here, iceboy. You can be a human and be with Meghan, or you can be fey and not. And you’d better figure out what you want real fast, or we’ve wasted our time here.”

Ariella stood. “Come on,” she told Puck, falling back into an old tradition. Since the three of us had known each other, she had always been the peacekeeper. “Let’s let him rest. Ash, if you need us, we’ll be close.”

Puck looked defiant, but Ariella put a hand on his arm and gently but firmly pulled him from the room. As the door closed, I clenched my fists and stared at the wall. Throwing out my arm, I tried sending a flurry of ice darts at the door, but nothing happened. Not even a cold wind.

I had no glamour anymore. My magic was gone; centuries of feeling the pulse of the earth, seeing the swirl of emotion and dreams and passion all around me, in every living creature, all vanished in a heartbeat. Could I get used to this? Any of this? I couldn’t move like I used to, I wasn’t as strong, and my body was susceptible to pain and sickness and cold. I was weaker now. I was … mortal.

I punched the mattress in frustration, feeling the blow rattle the frame. The Bone Witch was right. I didn’t know the first thing about mortality.

The pain had almost faded now, just a dull, ragged throbbing around the edges of my mind. Wearied by the battle and the cold and the shock of being torn apart, my head dropped to my chest, and I felt myself drifting ….

“THERE YOU ARE,” Ariella said, smiling at me in my dreams. “I knew you had to fall asleep sooner or later. You were exhausted.”

I blinked, stepping beneath the boughs of a huge, snow-covered cypress, every leaf outlined in frost. “Is this something I should expect every time I fall asleep?” I asked the figure sitting beneath the trunk.

Ariella stood and walked forward, brushing away glittering curtains of leaves. “No,” she said, taking my hand and drawing me forward. “My time as the seer is coming to an end. Soon, I won’t be able to dreamwalk anymore, so bear with me for a little while. I want to show you something.”

As she spoke, the scene around us changed. It blew away, like dust in a storm, until we were standing on a long gravel driveway, gazing up at an old green house.

“Do you recognize this?”

I nodded. “Meghan’s old house,” I said, gazing at the weathered, faded structure. “Where her family lives.”

A bark interrupted me. The front door creaked open, and Meghan emerged, followed by a small child of about four or five, an enormous German shepherd trailing them both.

I drew in a breath and stepped forward, but Ariella put a hand on my arm.

“She cannot see us,” she warned. “Not this time. This is more a latent memory than a true dream. Meghan’s consciousness is not here—you would not be able to speak to her.”

I turned back, watching Meghan and Ethan sit on the old porch swing, swaying gently back and forth. Ethan’s feet dangled over the edge, kicking sporadically, as Meghan passed him a small blue box with a straw sticking out of it. Beau, the German shepherd, put his huge paws on the swing and tried scrambling up as well, causing Ethan to shriek with laughter and Meghan to yell at him to get down.

“She dreams of them often,” Ariella said. “Her family. Especially him, the small one.”

“Her brother,” I murmured, unable to take my eyes from her. Having successfully ordered Beau off the swing, she patted her lap and scratched the big dog behind the ears, kissing his muzzle as he came up. Ariella nodded.

“Yes. The child who started it all, in a way. When he was kidnapped by the Iron King and taken into the Nevernever, she didn’t hesitate to go after him. And she didn’t stop there. When her magic was sealed by Mab, leaving her defenseless in the Winter Court, she somehow managed to survive, even when she thought you had turned on her. When the Scepter of the Seasons was stolen by the Iron fey, she went after it, despite having no magic and no weapon with which to defend herself. And when the courts asked her to destroy the false king, she accepted, even though the Summer and Iron glamours within her were making her sick, and she couldn’t use either of them effectively. She still went into the Iron Kingdom to face a tyrant she didn’t know if she could overcome.

“Now,” Ariella finished, turning toward me, “do you still believe humans are weak?”

Before I could answer, the scene faded. Darkness fell, Meghan and her brother vanished before me, and everything went black. I opened my eyes to find myself alone in my room, sitting on the bed with my back to the wall.

Do you still believe humans are weak?

I smiled ruefully. The half-blood daughter of Oberon was one of the strongest human beings I’d ever encountered. Even when her magic was sealed, or when it was making her horribly sick, she’d managed to defeat everything Faery threw at her through sheer stubborn determination. She had brought an end to two faery wars, and when it was all over, she had become a queen.

No, I told myself. Humans weren’t weak. Meghan Chase had proven that, many times over. And it didn’t matter if I had no magic, or if I wasn’t as strong as before. My vow to the Iron Queen, the one I’d sworn when I became her knight, still stood.

From this day forth, I vow to protect Meghan Chase, daughter of the Summer King, with my sword, my honor and my life. Should even the world stand against her, my blade will be at her side. And should it fail to protect her, let my own existence be forfeit.

I couldn’t protect her in the Iron Realm, not as Ash the Winter prince. All the glamour in the world couldn’t help her if I wasn’t there. I had to become human to stand beside her. For a moment, I’d lost sight of that.

That wouldn’t happen again. The loss of my glamour wouldn’t deter me. I was still a knight, her knight. And I’d return to the girl I’d sworn to protect.

I rose, prepared to find Puck and Ariella and tell them I was fine, that I was prepared to continue the trials. But before I could move, a dark shaped appeared in the corner of my eye, and the Guardian stood beside me. No warning, no ripple of power or magic to announce its arrival. It was just there.

“It is time,” the hooded figure stated as I stifled the urge to step out of its cold, dark shadow. “You have made your decision, so let us continue.”

“I thought I had till dawn.”

“It is dawn.” The Guardian’s voice was cold, matter-of-fact. “Time moves differently here, knight. A single day can pass in a heartbeat, or a lifetime. It matters not. The second test is upon us. Are you ready?”

“How will I know if I’ve passed?”

“There is no pass or fail.” That cold, informal tone never changed. “There is only endure. Survive.”

Endure. Survive. I could do that. “All right, then,” I said, bracing myself. “I’m ready.”

“Then let us begin.” Raising its staff, it tapped it once against the stone floor. There was a flash, and everything disappeared.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN THE SECOND TRIAL

“Nice shot, little brother. Maybe next time, we can find something that puts up more of a fight. I was about to fall asleep in the saddle.”

I ignored Rowan and approached the stag where it lay, still thrashing in the grass. A white arrow jutted behind its front legs, straight through its heart, and the beast’s mouth and nostrils were spattered with bloody foam. It rolled its eyes at me and tried to rise, but fell, kicking weakly, not quite realizing it was dead. I drew my hunting knife, and one quick slash to the throat ceased its struggles forever.

I sheathed the blade, gazing down at the twitching creature, somehow smaller in death than in life. “Too easy,” I muttered, curling a lip in disdain. “These mortal beasts are no challenge at all. It’s no fun hunting something that dies so easily.”

Rowan snickered as I yanked my arrow free and walked back to my horse, leaving the pathetic creature to bleed out in the dirt. “You’re just not hunting the right quarry,” he said as I swung into the saddle. “You keep chasing these animals, hoping they can survive more than an afternoon. If you want a challenge, maybe you need to change tactics.”

“Like what? Talk them to death? I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Oh, har har.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “My little brother is around a few decades and thinks he knows everything. Listen to someone who’s lived a few centuries. If you want a real challenge, you need to stop chasing these animals and pursue a quarry that can actually think.”

“You’re talking about humans,” I muttered as we rode through the forest, back toward the trod that had brought us here. “I’ve hunted them before. They’re less of a challenge than shooting dead goats.”

“Oh, little brother.” Rowan shook his head at me. “You have such a one-track mind. There are other ways to ‘hunt’ humans, other than riding them down and putting an arrow in their skulls. They’re a much more interesting quarry alive than dead. You should try it sometime.”

“You mean how you hunt them?” I snorted. “That’s less hunting and more toying with your prey, like a cat.”

“Don’t be so smug, Ash.” Rowan smirked at me, a silent challenge. “Pursuing a mortal’s heart, making her fall for you, slowly entangling her to the point where she would promise you anything, takes much more skill than simply sticking an arrow through someone’s chest. The human heart is the most difficult quarry of all.” His smirk grew wider, turning into a leer. “In fact, I’m not sure you could do it.”

“Who said I’d want to?” I ignored his baiting. “I’ve seen mortals ‘in love’ before. They’re blind and foolish, and their hearts are so fragile. What would I do with such a thing if I had it?”

“Whatever you want, little brother. Whatever you want.” Rowan gave me that smug, superior grin that made me bristle. “But, I understand if you’re afraid. If you don’t think you can do it. I just thought that you’d want a more interesting hunt, but if it’s too challenging for you …”

“All right.” I sighed. “You’ll give me no peace otherwise. Point me to a mortal and I’ll make it fall in love with me.”

Rowan laughed. “My little brother is growing up.” He sneered, as we turned our mounts toward the edge of the forest.

Once we were close to our prey, it didn’t take us long to find a likely target. As we approached the crude wooden fence that separated the human’s glade from the rest of the forest, faint, off-key singing suddenly reached our ears, and we pulled our mounts to a halt.

“There.” Rowan pointed. I followed his finger, and my eyebrows rose in surprise.

Beyond the fence and the edge of the trees, a stream babbled its way across a rocky field, where a gathering of thatched huts stood in a loose semicircle around a large fire pit. One of the many small human settlements in the area, this one tempted fate by sitting on the very edge of the forest. They rarely ventured close to the trees, and never left their houses after dark, for good reason. Goblins still considered this their territory, and I knew of more than one phouka that roamed these woods at night. I didn’t know much about these humans except that they were a small druidic tribe, attempting to live in peace with the land and the forest just outside their village walls. It was risky and foolish, as all humans tended to be, but at least they showed the proper respect.

So it was surprising to see one of them alone on the banks of the stream, humming as she picked the wildflowers that grew close to the forest. She was young as humans went, dressed in a simple shift, barefoot and barefaced. Her dark hair gleamed in the sunshine.

Rowan smiled his toothy wolf-smile and turned to me.

“All right, little brother. There’s your target.”

“The girl?”

“No, fool. Haven’t you been listening to me?” My brother rolled his eyes. “Her heart. Her body and mind and soul. Make her love you. Ensure that she gives herself to you completely, that she can think of nothing else but you. If you can do that, then you’ll be a hunter among hunters.” He sneered and looked down his nose. “If you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

I looked back to the girl, still humming as she picked handfuls of forget-me-nots, and felt a smile stretching my face. I’d never pursued a mortal heart before; this could be … interesting. “Is there a time in which I have to do this?” I asked.

Rowan pondered that question. “Well, the best-laid plans are not conceived in a day,” he mused, watching the girl. “But, it shouldn’t be difficult for you to win a mortal’s affections, especially one as young as that. Let’s say, the next full moon. Get her to follow you to the stone circle and pledge her undying love. I’ll be there, waiting for you both.”

“I’ll be there,” I said quietly, reveling in a worthy challenge, “with the human. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Rowan gave me a mocking salute, turned his horse and vanished into the forest. Dismounting, I approached the human silently, using glamour to mask my presence until I stood at the very edge of the forest, the girl only a stone’s throw away. I didn’t reveal myself to her at first. Like all pursuits, I began by studying my quarry, observing its strengths and weaknesses, learning its habits and patterns. If I just appeared out of the trees, I might spook her and she might not return to the area, so caution was necessary at first.

She was slender and graceful, very deerlike in some ways, which made the hunt all the more intriguing and familiar. Her dark eyes were quite large for a human, giving her a constant startled expression, but she moved from bush to bush with a general unawareness, as if a bear could come lumbering out of the trees and she wouldn’t even notice.

She swooped down abruptly, plunging her hand into the stream and emerged clutching a smooth turquoise pebble, which she turned over in obvious delight. At once I smiled, watching her drop the stone into her pocket, knowing the bait that would lure my prey to me.

So, you like shiny things, do you, little mortal? Crouching, I picked up a plain gray pebble and covered it in my fist, drawing a tiny bit of glamour from the air. When I opened my hand, the once dull stone was now a glittering sapphire, and I tossed the glamoured item into the stream.

She found it almost immediately, and pounced with a squeal of delight, holding it up so it sparkled in the sun. I smiled and drew away, walking back to my mount with a feeling of satisfaction, knowing she would be there tomorrow.

I left her a silver chain the next day, watching her coo over it with the same delight the glamoured gem had given her, and the next afternoon she admired the golden ring on her finger for a long, long time, before dropping the treasure into her pocket. I didn’t have any fear of her showing it to anyone else; much like crows and magpies, she didn’t want anyone to steal her treasures, or question where she got them. And the glamour on the items eventually faded, leaving rocks and leaves in their place. I knew she wondered what had become of them; perhaps she told herself that she dropped or misplaced her treasures, choosing to ignore the obvious answer. Perhaps she suspected the truth and knew she should be wary, but I also knew her greed would keep her coming back.

The following day, I didn’t leave her anything, but watched her flounder about in the stream for hours, searching and growing despondent, until evening fell and she left on the verge of tears. And I smiled to myself, already planning the next stage. It was time to move in for the kill.

The next afternoon, I put a single white rose on a flat rock near the stream, faded into the woods and waited.

She wasn’t long in coming, and when she saw the rose she gasped and picked it up almost reverently, holding it as if it was made of purest crystal. As she straightened and gazed around, eyes shining with hope, I dropped the glamour and stepped out of the trees.

She jumped like a startled deer but, as I had predicted, made no move to run. I let her stare at me, waiting for the shock to fade. Knowing humans found us beautiful, I’d dressed the part of the prince in black-and-silver, my cape falling over one shoulder and my sword at my waist. She gaped at me like a landed fish, her dark eyes wide with fear, but also with a little wonder and excitement.

Very carefully, I let my glamour settle over her, taking away her fear, leaving only the awe behind. Human emotions were fickle things, easy to influence. I could have enchanted her, made her fall completely in love at first sight, but that would be cheating, according to Rowan. That was fabricated love, where the mortal was no more than a fawning, glassy-eyed slave. To completely own her, body and soul, took careful manipulation and time.

Still, there was no reason I couldn’t level the field a bit.

“Forgive me,” I said in a cool, soothing voice as the girl continued to stare. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve been watching you for some time, and I couldn’t stay away any longer. I hope you didn’t find my gifts ill-mannered.”

The girl opened her mouth, but no sounds escaped. I waited two heartbeats, then turned away, bowing my head.

“What am I saying?” I continued before she could respond. “Here I am, acting like an uncivilized barbarian, stalking you from the woods. Of course, you don’t want to see me like this—I should go.”

“No, wait!” the girl cried, just as I had planned. I turned back with a “dare I hope” expression, and she smiled at me across the water. “I don’t mind,” she said, suddenly bashful and coy, twisting her hands behind her back. “You can stay … if you want.”

I hid my smile. Easier than I thought.

The girl’s name, she told me, was Brynna, and she was the daughter of the druid priestess who led the village. Her grandmother was a very powerful shaman, and very strict, forbidding anyone to go into the forest or even near its borders, for fear of the Good Neighbors that lurked within the trees. But the flowers that grew along the edge of the forest were the most beautiful, and Brynna loved beautiful things, so she waited until her grandmother was napping before she slipped out of the village and down to the stream.

“And why does your grandmother hate the Good Neighbors so?” I asked, smiling at the mortals’ odd name for us, which they used because, supposedly, voicing our real names might draw our attention. I smiled at the girl, feigning curiosity while tinting the air with glamour, subduing any fears she might have.

“She … she doesn’t hate them,” Brynna went on, nervously pushing her hair back. “She fears them. She’s afraid of what they might do—kill our livestock, steal our children, make the women unfertile.”

“And, are you afraid of them?” I asked in a low voice, closing the final few feet between us. Very gently, I reached for her rough, work-callused hands, holding them to my chest. “Are you afraid of me?”

She gazed up at my face, dark eyes shining with foolish trust, and shook her head.

“I’m glad.” I smiled and kissed the back of her hand. “May I see you again tomorrow?”

I knew the answer even before she nodded.

IT WAS EASY after that, though I took my time with her, wanting to play the game right. Every afternoon, right before twilight, I met her at the stream. Sometimes with trinkets, sometimes with flowers, always with some sort of gift that would keep her returning to me. I showered her with compliments and tender kisses, playing the smitten fool, smiling as she melted under my touch. I never pushed too far, being sure to end each meeting before it got out of hand. When I eventually took her, at the stone circle on the night of the full moon, I wanted there to be no doubts in her mind.

As the game progressed, I even found myself enjoying these little encounters. Humans, I discovered, loved so passionately, without reservation, and the stronger the emotion the brighter their glamour became. The glamour aura of a mortal in love outshone anything I’d ever seen before, so pure and intense it was almost addictive. I could see why the Summer Court pursued these emotions with such passion; there was nothing like them in any of the courts.

Still, it was only a game. I might’ve mimicked the words and gestures of a man in love, but emotion, as the Winter Court taught me, was a weakness. And when the full moon rose over the trees on the last night of the game, I knew she was mine.

She approached eagerly through the grass under the pale light of the full moon, so eager in her haste to reach the stream she tripped a few times and went sprawling. She didn’t spare any glances back at the village, despite the unusual time I’d requested to meet. A few days ago, she might’ve balked at the thought of meeting a virtual stranger alone in the woods in the dead of night. But now she hurried eagerly forward, no doubts in her mind. She trusted her prince, completely and without reservation. What love will do to a mortal.

I hung back a few minutes, observing her as she reached the stream, gazing around for my shadow. She wouldn’t see me, of course, even though I was standing but a few yards across the stream. Glamoured and invisible, just another shadow in the trees, I watched her. Though her eagerness soon turned to concern at my absence, and she began walking up and down the stream, looking for me, her confidence never wavered, never turned to doubt. She was certain her prince would be there, or that something had detained him from coming. Foolish mortal.

Finally, as she hovered on the verge of tears, I shed my glamour and stepped out of the trees. She gasped and brightened instantly, love filling her eyes and making them shine, but I didn’t cross the stream and go to her. Feigning sorrow, I stood on the opposite bank, with the woods at my back, and gave her a gentle smile.

“Forgive me for being so late,” I said, putting the right amount of remorse in my voice. “But I wanted to see you one last time. I’m afraid this will be our last meeting. I’ve come to realize we are from two different worlds, and I cannot give you the kind of life you’d want. You are beautiful and kind, and I would only take that away. So, it is best that I leave. After tonight, you will not see me again.”

The result was devastating, as I knew it would be. Her eyes filled with tears, and her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth in horror. “No!” She gasped, a thread of panic in her voice. “Oh, no! Please, you can’t! What … will I do … if you are gone?” And she collapsed into shaking sobs.

I hid a smile and crossed the stream, gathering her into my arms. “Don’t cry,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “Truly, it’s better this way. Your people would never accept me—they would drive me away with iron and torches and do their best to kill me. They would do it to protect you. I am only being selfish, meeting you like this.”

Brynna sniffled and gazed up at me, ugly black despair swirling with fierce determination. “I don’t care what anyone says! Take me away with you. I’ll do anything, anything you want. Just please don’t leave. I’ll die if you go!”

We embraced, the girl resting against my chest, her glamour aura shimmering around us. Finally, I drew back, gazing into her eyes. “Do you love me, Brynna?”

She nodded without hesitation. “With my whole heart.”

“Would you do anything for me?”

“Yes.” She clutched at my shirt. “I would, my love. Ask me. Anything.”

I drew back, beyond the fence, until the shadows of the trees fell over my face. “Come, then,” I murmured, holding out a hand to her. “Come with me.” And I waited. Waited to see if years of upbringing, of fears and cautionary tales and countless warnings about following a beautiful prince into the forest, would be forgotten in a heartbeat.

She didn’t hesitate. Without even a backward glance at her village, she stepped forward and put her hand in mine, smiling up at me with childlike trust. I smiled back, and led her into the forest.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” she asked a bit later, still holding my hand as we hurried through the trees. Shadows clawed at us, and branches reached out, trying to snag her clothes with twiggy talons. They knew a human in the forest didn’t belong, but Brynna remained blissfully unaware, only happy to be with her prince even as he dragged her through a dark wood where the very trees took offense at her presence.

“You’ll see,” I replied, deftly pulling her sideways to avoid a thornbush that lurched into her path. And, because I knew she would continue to pester me until I gave in, I added, “It’s a surprise.”

A will-o’-the-wisp trailed behind us, bobbing through the trees, attempting to catch her attention. I glared at it and it spun away, faint laughter echoing through the branches. A goblin raised a warty head and glared at us through the bushes, running a black tongue over jagged teeth, but didn’t dare approach. Brynna seemed blind to any of this, humming softly as she followed me through the woods.

The forest opened into a tiny, round clearing, where stone pillars stood in a circle around a marble altar. It was used for many things—dancing, bloodletting, sacrifices—and tonight it would be used for something else. Brynna cast one curious glance at the circle of stone before turning her attention back to me, smiling. She suspected nothing.

Rowan stood nearby, leaning against one of the pillars with his arms crossed, smirking at me. He was glamoured, invisible to mortal eyes, and the sight of him filled me with resolve. I’d come this far. It was time to finish the game.

Gently, I drew Brynna toward the altar, and she followed without hesitation, still trusting her prince to keep her safe. Lifting her up, I sat her on the altar, taking her hands in mine, gazing into her eyes.

“Do you love me?” I asked again, my voice very, very soft.

She nodded breathlessly.

“Then, prove it,” I murmured. “I want your body, and your soul and everything you have. I want it all. Tonight.”

She hesitated for a moment, puzzled, but then understanding dawned in her eyes. Without a word, she leaned back and slipped out of her dress, baring young, naked skin to the moonlight. Reaching back, she pulled out the tie that held her hair back, letting it fall about her shoulders in a dark cascade. I let my eyes roam down her slim, pale body, so fragile and untainted and stepped up beside her.

Lying back on the cold stone, she welcomed me with open arms, and I took everything she offered, everything she could give, as Rowan stood nearby and watched with a vicious smile.

WHEN IT WAS OVER, she lay dreaming and spent in my arms. Without waking her, I stood, slipped noiselessly off the altar and into my clothes, pondering what had just happened.

“Well, congratulations, little brother.” Rowan appeared beside me, still hidden from human senses, grinning like a wolf with a lamb. “You brought down your quarry. The game is almost finished.”

“Almost?” I’d glamoured myself to remain unseen and unheard, as Brynna slept on. “What do you mean, almost? I have her heart. She gave it to me freely and willingly. She loves me—that was the game.”

“Not quite.” Rowan glanced at the sleeping girl with a sneer. “To truly finish the game, you have to break her. Body and soul. Crush her heart, and make it so she can never find true love again, because nothing will compare to what she had with you.”

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” I waved a hand at the mortal on the altar. “I brought her here. She gave herself to me. It’s done. I’ll leave her with her village and won’t see her again. She’ll forget, eventually.”

“Don’t be so naïve.” Rowan shook his head. “You know they can’t forget us. Not when we’ve gone through all the trouble of earning their love. If you leave without breaking her heart, she’ll be at that stream, looking for you, until the day she dies. She might even venture into the forest in her despair and get eaten by trolls or wolves or something horrible. So, it’s actually a kindness that you set her free.” He crossed his arms and leaned back, giving me a mocking look. “Really, little brother. Did you think this would have a happily-ever-after? Between a mortal and a fey? How did you think this was going to end?” His grin turned faintly savage. “Finish what you started, Ash, unless you’d like me to kill her now, so you won’t have to.”

I glared at him. “Very well,” I snapped. “But you’ll stay hidden until it’s done. This is my game still, even now.”

He grinned. “Of course, little brother,” he said, and backed away, gesturing to the altar. “She’s all yours.”

I turned back to Brynna, watching her sleep. I didn’t care what Rowan said; breaking her was not part of the game. I could easily take her back to the village and leave her there, and she would never know what had become of her prince. Breaking a mortal’s heart was Rowan’s game; something he reveled in, after using humans so completely they were empty husks. I wasn’t like Rowan; everything he touched, he made sure to destroy.

Still, perhaps it was better to ensure she never came after me. She was only a mortal, but I’d grown somewhat fond of her in our time together, like a favorite dog or horse. It wouldn’t bother me if she got herself hurt or eaten wandering aimlessly through the forest, but it wouldn’t please me, either.

I let her sleep until dawn, giving her one last night of peace, her dreams whole and intact. As the moon waned and the stars began to fade from the sky, I covered the altar with a thin sheet of frost, and the cold was enough to wake her.

Blinking, she sat up, shivering and confused, taking in her surroundings. Seeing me standing beside one of the pillars, she brightened and the sleepiness dropped from her face. Finding her shift, she quickly slipped it on and trotted up, arms open to embrace me.

I didn’t smile as she came up, fixing her with a cold glare, filling the air with glamour so the air around me turned frigid. She stumbled to a halt a few feet away, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

“My love?”

Looking down at her, I realized it would be easy. She was so fragile, her heart like a thin glass ball in my fist, filled with emotion and hopes and dreams. A few words, that was all it would take, to turn this bright, eager creature into a broken, hollow shell. What Rowan said came back to me, taunting my ignorance. Did you think this would have a happily ever after? Between a mortal and a fey? How did you think this was going to end?

I met her eyes, smiled coldly and shattered the illusion. “Go home, human.”

She faltered, her lip trembling. “W-what?”

“I’m bored with this.” Crossing my arms, I leaned back and gave her a disdainful look. “You’ve become boring, all that talk of love and destiny and marriage.”

“But … but, you said … I thought …”

“That, what? We’d get married? Run away together? Have a brood of half-human children?” I sneered, shaking my head, and she wilted even further. “I never intended to marry you, human. This was a game, and the game is over now. Go home. Forget all of this, because I’m going to do the same.”

“I thought … I thought you loved me….”

“I don’t know what love is,” I told her truthfully. “Only that it’s a weakness, and it should never be allowed to consume you. It will break you in the end.” She was shaking her head, whether in protest or disbelief, I couldn’t tell. Nor did I care. “None of this was real, human. Don’t try to find me, because you will not see me again. We played, you lost. Now, say goodbye.”

She sank to her knees in a daze, and I turned away, striding into the trees. A few moments later, a horrid, gut-wrenching scream rent the air, sending flocks of birds flying. I didn’t look back. As the screams continued, each one more terrible than the last, I continued deep into the forest, the sense of achievement overshadowed by a tiny bit of doubt.

As I approached the trod back to Winter, I suddenly realized I wasn’t alone. A figure watched me through the trees; tall, dark, wearing a loose robe and cowl that covered its face. As I went for my sword, it raised a gnarled, twisted staff and pointed it at me …

… I JERKED UP ON THE STONE floor of the temple, gasping, as the present came flooding back. The Guardian loomed over me, cold and impassive. I struggled to my feet and leaned against the wall, the memory of that day flashing before me, bright and clear and painful.

Brynna. The girl whose life I’d destroyed. I remembered seeing her once after our last meeting, wandering along the stream, her eyes glazed over and blank. I never saw her after that, never thought about her, until an old druid priestess found me one day. She introduced herself as Brynna’s grandmother, the high priestess of the clan, and demanded to know if I was the one who had killed her granddaughter. The girl had fallen into a deep depression, refusing to eat or sleep, until one day her body simply gave out. Brynna had died of a broken heart, and the priestess had come to exact her revenge.

I curse you, demon! Soulless one. From this day forth, let everyone you love be taken from you. May you suffer the same agony as the girl you destroyed, may your heart know pain unlike any other, for as long as you remain soulless and empty.

I’d laughed at her then, claiming that I had no capacity to love, and her pathetic curse would be wasted on me. She only bared her yellow teeth in a smile and spat in my face, right before I cut off her head.

I sank to the floor as their faces crowded my mind, dark eyes glaring at me in accusation. My breath came in short gasps. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t escape her face—the girl I had killed—because she had fallen in love.

My eyes burned. Tears ran down my face and fell to the cold floor, making my vision blurry. “What … have you done to me?” I gasped, clutching at my chest, hardly able to breathe—it felt so heavy. The Guardian regarded me without expression, an unmoving shadow in the room.

“Conscience,” it intoned, “is part of being human. Regret is something no mortal can escape for long. If you cannot come to terms with the mistakes of your past, then you are not fit to have a soul.”

I pulled myself into a sitting position, slumping against the bed. “Mistakes,” I said bitterly, trying to compose myself. “My life has been full of mistakes.”

“Yes,” the Guardian agreed, raising its staff. “And we will revisit them all.”

“No, please—”

Too late. There was a blinding flash of light, and I was somewhere else.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN VOICES OF THE PAST

I raised my head from where I knelt before Mab’s throne, finding the queen smiling down at me. “Ash,” Mab purred, gesturing for me to rise, “my favorite boy. Do you know why I called you here?”

I stood warily. I’d learned never to trust Mab when she used the word favorite. I’d seen her call someone her favorite right before she froze them alive, “to remember them always like this.” More often, it was a ploy to make my brothers jealous, to drive us to compete with one another. This entertained her greatly but made life difficult for me. Rowan took great offense each time I was the favored son, and punished me for it whenever he could.

I could feel Rowan’s glare as I stood, but I ignored him while facing the queen. “I know not, Queen Mab, but whatever your reasons, I will comply.”

Her eyes glittered. “Always so formal. Would it hurt you to smile for me once in a blue moon? Rowan is not afraid to look me in the eye.”

Rowan was at court a lot more than I was, being groomed as her councilor and confidant, and he shared her vicious sense of humor. But there was no way I could tell her that, so I managed a small smile, which seemed to please her. She settled back on her throne and regarded me in an almost affectionate manner, then gestured to something behind me.

A pair of Winter knights in icy-blue armor stepped forward, dragging something between them, throwing it at Mab’s feet. A wood nymph, brown-skinned and delicate, with a sharp pointed face and brambles in her long green hair. One of her legs was broken, snapped like a dry twig and hanging at an odd angle. She moaned, only barely conscious, dragging herself across the floor, away from the foot of the throne.

“This creature,” Mab said, gazing down at the broken, pathetic body, “and several of its friends attacked and killed one of my knights while they were patrolling the border of the wyldwood. The knights were able to subdue this one, but the rest fled into the wyldwood and escaped. Such an attack cannot go unchallenged, but it refuses to disclose the whereabouts of its home glade. I was hoping that you, with the vast amount of time you spend hunting there, would know where to find them.”

I looked down at the nymph, who had dragged herself across the floor and was reaching out for me. “M-mercy,” it whispered, clutching at my boots. “Mercy, my lord, we were only trying to save our sister. The knight … the knight was … assaulting her. Please … my friends … my family. The queen will kill them all.”

For just a moment, I hesitated. I did not doubt her words; the knights were cold and violent, taking what they wanted, but to attack the servants of the Winter Court was a crime punishable by death. Mab would kill the nymph’s entire family if she found them, just for protecting their own. I could not lie, of course, but there were other ways to bend the truth.

“Prince Ash.” Mab’s voice had changed. No longer inquiring and friendly, it now held a dangerous undertone of warning. “I believe I asked you a question,” she continued, as the nymph grabbed at my coat hem, pleading for mercy. “Do you know the location of these creatures, or not?”

What are you doing, Ash? Clenching my fist, I shoved the nymph away with my boot, ignoring her cry of pain. Mercy was for the weak, and I was the son of the Unseelie Queen. There was no mercy in my blood. “Yes, your majesty,” I said, as the nymph collapsed, sobbing, to the icy ground. “I’ve seen this tribe before. They have a colony on the edge of the Bramblewood.”

Mab smiled. “Excellent,” she rasped. “Then you will lead a force there tonight, and destroy it. Kill them all, cut down their trees, and burn their glade to the ground. I want nothing left standing, not a single blade of grass. Set an example for those who would defy the Winter Court, is that clear?”

I bowed my head as the nymph’s wails and shrieks rose into the air. “As you say, my queen,” I murmured, backing away. “It will be done.”

THE FOREST ELF STARED AT ME, clutching his staff, fear written plainly on his wrinkled face. The small elven tribe that lived here, on the outskirts of the wyldwood and Tir Na Nog, were simple hunter-gatherers. They didn’t get many visitors, especially not from the Unseelie Court. Especially not a prince of the Winter Court himself.

“Prince Ash?” He bowed stiffly, and I nodded once. “This is … a surprise. To what do we owe this honor, your highness?”

“I’m here on behalf of Queen Mab and a warrior named Hawthorn,” I replied formally, and his bushy eyebrows rose. “Is this name familiar to you?”

“Hawthorn?” The elder’s brow furrowed. “Yes. Hawthorn was on a warrior quest, to become the strongest wood elf in the wyldwood. Why do you know him?”

I sighed. “Hawthorn found his way to the Unseelie Court,” I went on, as the elder’s brow wrinkled further. “He came before Queen Mab, begging her to allow him to be part of her guard, that he would be honored to serve as one in her court. When Mab refused, he demanded a duel, to prove himself the strongest warrior. He swore on the lives of his kin and tribe that he would be victorious, and that if he won, he would be allowed to serve her. Mab was amused, and allowed him to fight one of her warriors.”

“I don’t understan—”

“Hawthorn was defeated,” I continued softly, as the elder’s face went from deep brown to the color of toad stools. He stumbled back, falling to his knees, mouth working soundlessly. Drawing my sword, I started forward, as gasps and screams began to rise from the huts around me. “The lives of his kin and tribe are forfeit should he lose. I am here to collect on that debt.”

“MERCY.”

The human stared up at me from where he knelt in the snow, an arrow piercing his calf, dripping bright mortal blood onto the ground. Trembling, he clasped his hands together and raised them beseechingly at me, eyes filling with tears. Pathetic human.

“Please, lord of the forest, have mercy. I didn’t mean to trespass.”

I smiled at him coldly. “The forest is forbidden—your people know this. Venture within our territories, and we have leave to hunt you down. Tell me, human, why should I be merciful?”

“Please, great lord! My wife, my wife is very sick. She is having … birthing difficulties. I needed to take a shortcut through the forest to reach the doctor in the town.”

“Birthing difficulties?” I narrowed my eyes, appraising him. “Your wife will be dead before you get home. You will never reach her in time, not with that wounded leg. You’ve killed them both by trespassing here.”

The human began to sob. His glamour aura flickered blue-and-black with despair. “Please!” he cried, pounding the snow. “Please, spare them. I care nothing for myself, but save my wife and child. I’ll do anything. Please!”

He collapsed, crying softly, in the snow, murmuring “please” over and over again. I watched him for a moment, then sighed.

“Your wife is lost,” I stated bluntly, making him moan and cover his face in hopeless agony. “She cannot be saved. You child, however, might still have a chance. What will you give me if I save its life?”

“Anything!” the man cried, gazing up at me in earnest. “Take anything you want, just save my child!”

“Say the words,” I told him. “Speak them out loud, and let the trees witness your request.”

It must have dawned on him then, what was happening, for his face went even paler and he swallowed hard. But he licked his lips and continued in a shaken but clear voice: “I, Joseph Macleary, am prepared to offer anything for the life of my child.” He swallowed again and looked straight at me, almost defiant. “Take what you wish, even my own life, as long as my child lives and grows up healthy and strong.”

I smiled at him as the invisible strings of magic wove around us, sealing the bargain. “I’m not going to kill you, human,” I said, stepping back. “I have no interest in taking your life now.”

Relief crossed his face, for just a moment, before alarm flickered in his eyes. “Then, what is it you want?”

Still smiling, I faded from sight, leaving the human to gaze around the empty woods alone. For a moment, he knelt there, confused. Then, with a gasp, he whirled and began limping back the way he came, leaving a speckled trail of blood in his wake. I laughed silently, sensing his panic as he realized what he had promised. He would never get home in time.

Glamoured and invisible, I turned my steps in the direction of a small shanty on the edge of the woods.

The Samhain festival arrived at the Winter Court, and with it the gifts and favors and goodwill blessings for the Winter Queen. Mab was extremely pleased with my gift that year; a dark-haired baby boy, and the look on Rowan’s face when I presented the child to her was unforgettable. The boy grew up, healthy and strong, in the Winter Court, never questioning his past or his heritage, becoming a favorite pet of the queen. Eventually, when he got a little older and weaker and not so handsome anymore, Mab placed him in an endless sleep and encased him in ice, freezing him as he was forever. And so the bargain made in the snow the night of his birth was fulfilled.

“ENOUGH!”

Slammed back into the present, I lurched away from the Guardian, the faces of the lives I had destroyed staring at me from the shadows of the room. Hitting the wall, I squeezed my eyes shut, but I could not escape the memories, the accusing eyes, boring into me. The screams and wails, the stench of burning wood, the blood and terror and sorrow and death; I remembered it all as if it was yesterday.

“No more,” I whispered, my face still turned to the wall, feeling wetness against my skin. My teeth were clenched so hard my jaw ached. “No more. I can’t … remember … the things I’ve done. I don’t want to remember.”

“You will.” The Guardian’s voice was calm, ruthless. “Everything. Every soul you destroyed, every life you took. You will remember, knight. We have only just begun.”

IT WENT ON FOREVER.

Each time, I was there, watching the scenes play before me as the heartless Unseelie prince, cold, violent and uncaring. I hunted more humans through the forest, tasting their fear as I ran them down. I slaughtered at the queen’s whim, whether it was a single creature that earned her wrath, a family for her entertainment or an entire village to set an example. I competed with my brothers for Mab’s favor, playing my own vicious, courtly games that often ended in betrayal and blood. I seduced even more human females and broke their hearts, leaving them empty and hollow, writhing in their loss.

Each time I lived these atrocities, I felt nothing. And each time, the Guardian would pull me out, for just a moment, and the horror of what I’d done would threaten to crush me. Crime after crime stacked upon one another, weighing me down, adding new memories and shame to the nightmares of my life. Each time, I wanted to curl up and die with my guilt, but the Guardian gave me only a moment’s reflection before hurling me into the next massacre.

Finally, after what seemed like years, centuries, it was over. I lay on the floor gasping, my arms around my head, bracing myself for the next horror. Only this time, nothing happened. I heard the Guardian speaking above me, its voice distant and matter-of-fact: “The final trial begins at dawn.” Then it vanished, leaving me alone.

My thoughts, now my own again, reached out tentatively, probing the silence. And in the sudden calm, every single memory, the crimes of my past, every nightmare and horror and depravity committed by the Unseelie prince, all rose up and descended on me with screams and cries and anguished howls, and I found myself screaming, too.

Puck and Ariella burst through the door, weapons drawn, scanning the room for attackers. Seeing me, kneeling on the floor, my face wet and tormented, their expressions went blank with shock. “Ash?” Ariella whispered, walking toward me. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

I lurched away from her. She couldn’t know—neither of them could ever know—the horrors I’d committed, the blood staining my hands. I couldn’t face their shock and contempt and disgust when they found out who I really was.

“Ash?”

“Get back,” I rasped at her, and her eyes widened. “Stay away from me. Both of you. Just … leave me alone.”

Ariella stared at me … and for a moment, I saw Brynna’s face when I’d told her everything was all a game. It was more than I could bear.

Ignoring their calls, I rushed past them, escaping into the halls of the castle.

Faces followed me down the corridors, their cold, accusing eyes boring into me, crowding my mind.

“Ash,” Brynna whispered, hugging herself in an alcove, watching me pass, “you said you loved me.”

“My sisters,” the nymph said, appearing from around a corner, glaring at me with burning black eyes. “My family. You killed them all. Every single one.”

“Demon,” whispered the old farmer, his eyes glazed over with tears, pointing at me with a trembling hand. “You took my child away. All I had left, and you took him from me. Monster.”

I’m sorry, I called to them, but of course they wouldn’t hear. They were long dead, their grief and hate unresolved, and nothing I said or did could make any of it right.

I could hear Puck and Ariella’s voices down the hall, calling my name, searching for me. I didn’t deserve their concern. I didn’t deserve to know them, two bright spots in a life of darkness and blood and death. I’d destroyed everything I touched, even those I loved. I would end up destroying them, too.

“Murderer,” Rowan whispered, appearing from a doorway, and I shied away from him, nearly blinded by tears and not watching where I was going. The floor suddenly gave way beneath me. I fell down a long flight of steps, the world spinning madly, until I landed with a gasp at the bottom, pain stabbing through my arm and side.

Gritting my teeth, I struggled upright, pressing a hand to my bruised shoulder, and looked around. It was dark here, shadows choking everything, the only light coming from a dying candle in the mouth of a stone gargoyle. Beside the leering creature stood a massive stone door, like the entrance to a crypt, standing partially open. Cold, dry air wafted from the crack beneath it.

I staggered forward, squeezed through the opening, and put my uninjured shoulder to the stone, pushing with all my might. The massive door closed with a rumbling groan, shutting out the feeble light and plunging me into complete darkness.

I didn’t know what surrounded me, and I didn’t care. Feeling my way forward, I eased into a corner, put my back to the wall and slid to the floor. I was cold, even starting to shake, but I welcomed the discomfort. The darkness smelled of dust, limestone, and death. But I couldn’t escape the voices, the whispers that hissed accusations in my ears, furious, hateful, completely justified.

Monster.

Demon.

Murderer.

I shivered, with cold and with shame, and buried my face in my knees, letting the accusations swirl around me.

So, this was what we really were. What I really was.

Dawn, the Guardian had told me. My final test began at dawn. If I didn’t show up for it, I would fail. And if I failed, I’d remain here forever, alone.

As it should be.

Time slipped away. I lost myself in the darkness, listening to the voices. Sometimes they sobbed, sometimes they railed at me, cruel, vicious words filled with grief and hate. Other times they would only ask questions. Why? Why had I done this? Why had I destroyed them, their lives, their families? Why?

I couldn’t answer. Nothing I offered would bring them peace, no apology would suffice for what I’d done. My words were hollow, empty. How could I have been so blind as to want a soul? It was laughable now, to think that a soul could live inside me without being tainted by the centuries of blood and evil and death.

The voices agreed, laughing at me, mocking my quest. I didn’t deserve a soul; I didn’t deserve happiness, or peace. Why should I get my happy ending, when I’d left a swath of horror and destruction behind me wherever I went?

I had no answer for them. I was a monster. I was born in darkness, and I would die here, as well. It was better this way. Ash, the demon of the Unseelie Court, would finally perish alone, mourning the lives of those he’d destroyed.

A fitting end, I thought, giving in to the voices, letting them rail and laugh at me. I would not hurt anyone any longer. My quest ended here, in this hole of darkness and regret. And, if I didn’t die here, if I lived on forever, listening to the voices of those I’d wronged until the end of time, perhaps I would start to atone for what I had done.

“HERE YOU ARE.”

I raised my head as the voice slipped out of the darkness, different from the others surrounding me that were whispering their vengeance and hate. It was nearly pitch-black in the crypt, and I could barely move more than a few feet from where I sat. But I recognized the voice, as the gleam of golden eyes, appearing out of the darkness, floated closer to me.

“Grimalkin.” My voice sounded raspy in my ears, as if I hadn’t used it for months, though I didn’t know how much time had passed down here. Perhaps it had been several months. “What are you doing here?”

“I think,” Grimalkin said, blinking solemnly as he came into view, “that is what I should be asking you. Why are you hiding out with the dead when you should be preparing for the final test?”

I hunched my shoulders, closing my eyes as the voices started again, angry and painful. “Leave me, cait sith.”

“You cannot stay down here,” the cat went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “What good is it to sit here and do nothing? You help no one if you remain here and bemoan the past.”

Anger flickered, and I raised my head to glare at him. “What would you know about it?” I whispered. “You have no conscience. You think of everything in terms of bargains and favors, caring nothing for those you have manipulated. I simply can’t forget … what I’ve done.”

“No one is asking you to forget.” Grimalkin sat down and curled his tail around himself, gazing at me. “That is the whole point of a conscience, after all—that you do not forget those you have wronged. But answer me this—how do you expect to atone for the crimes of your past if you do nothing? Do you think your victims care now, whether you live or die?”

I had no answer for him. Grimalkin sniffed and stood up, waving his tail. His yellow eyes regarded me knowingly.

“They do not. And there is no point in obsessing about what cannot be. They are dead, and you live. And if you fail this test, nothing changes. The only way to ensure that you do not become that which you despise is to finish the quest you have started.”

The voices hissed at me, sounding desperate, reminding me of my crimes, the blood on my hands, the lives I’d destroyed. And they were right. I could do nothing for them now. But I had been someone else then. Uncaring and soulless. A demon, like they said. But … maybe I could start again.

Grimalkin flicked an ear and began to trot away into the shadows. “Earn your soul, knight,” he called, his gray form fading into the dark. “Prove that you can learn from your mistakes. Only then can you become human.”

His words remained with me long after he was gone. I sat in that cold corner and thought about my past, the people I’d hurt, manipulated, destroyed.

Grim was right. If I died here, who would remember them? If I failed and returned home without a soul, I would continue to feel nothing for my past, no remorse, no guilt, no conscience.

Brynna’s voice, broken and filled with hate, whispered into my head. I loved you. I loved you so much, and you killed me. I will never forgive you.

I know, I told her memory, and finally pulled myself to my feet. My limbs screamed in protest, but I braced myself against the wall and stayed upright. And you shouldn’t. I don’t want forgiveness.

I don’t deserve to be forgiven for my past. But I will make it right. Somehow, I will atone for those mistakes, I swear it.

I was tired, my body stiff and sore and exhausted; it took all my strength to push open the stone doors and climb the long flight of steps out of the crypt. But with every step, every jolt of pain through my bones, I felt lighter, freer somehow, the voices silenced and left back in the tomb. I could not forget them, or the crimes of my past, but I no longer wanted to die.

It was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, staff in hand, watching me behind its cowl. I felt its ancient gaze sweep through my bruised, battered body. It nodded, as if it had discovered within me something that pleased it. “The final trial is upon us, knight,” it said as I climbed the last step and stood before the Guardian. “You have survived human weakness and a conscience. One last thing remains for you to earn a soul.”

“Where are Puck and Ariella?” I asked, feeling guilty that I’d been gone for so long. They’d be worried about me by now. I hoped they didn’t think I was dead.

“They search for you,” the Guardian said simply. “But this is not their test. The trial begins now, knight. Are you ready, or not?”

I took a breath. Puck and Ariella would have to wait. I hoped they would understand, because the Guardian wasn’t giving me time to think about it. “Yes,” I replied, feeling my stomach knot. The last trial. The only thing between me and a soul. And Meghan. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

The Guardian nodded and raised its staff once more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN HUMAN

Rain pounded my back, and I opened my eyes.

I lay on my stomach on the hard ground, my cheek pressed against what felt like cobblestones, water soaking my hair and clothes. From my drenched state and the feel of the small, round stones pressing into my face, I must have been lying there for some time. Wincing, I pushed myself to my elbows, peering through the rain to determine where I was.

A green-and-silver garden stretched out before me, lush with vegetation and blurry through the rain. Cobblestone paths twisted around small bushes and shrubs, and larger trees hugged the edges of the high stone wall surrounding it. A few feet away, a marble fountain spilled water into a shallow basin, the sound of trickling water drowned out by the larger deluge.

Around me, the trees shimmered in the rain, thousands of leaves flashing like knives as the wind tossed their branches. At my feet, wires slithered over the ground in strange patterns and curled around tree trunks, glowing like neon signs. Lampposts, glimmering yellow in the twilight, grew right out of the ground and lined the narrow paths. I turned and saw an enormous castle of stone, glass and steel looming above me, spires and towers stabbing at the clouds.

I blinked, trying to take it all in. I was back in the Iron Kingdom. The twisted metallic trees, the wires slithering over the ground, the castle of stone and steel—they couldn’t belong anywhere else. And the rain … my heart skipped a beat, and I turned my face to the sky. The water was clear and pure, not the acidic, flesh-eating rain that had swept through the Iron Realm before Meghan became queen.

But, if that was the case … if I was in the Iron Kingdom …

I took a deep breath, breathing in the cool, damp air, drawing it into myself and holding it there, waiting.

Nothing. No sickness, no pain. I stepped beneath a warped iron tree and placed my palm against the trunk, bracing myself out of habit. The metal was cold and wet beneath my fingers, not burning at all.

I couldn’t help the smile stretching my face as I whirled around, taking in the garden, the estate, everything. Throwing back my head, I raised my arms and howled a victory cry into the rain, hearing it echo off the castle walls. I was in the Iron Kingdom with no amulet, no protection, and I still felt nothing. Iron had no power over me, now. I was human. I had won!

A thunderous bark behind me made me spin around, as a lean, furry creature came bounding toward me out of the rain. For a moment, I thought it was a wolf. Then I saw it was a dog, a huge German shepherd with enormous paws and a thick, shaggy pelt spiked up with rain. It skidded to a stop a few feet from me and growled, lowering its muzzle and baring sharp white fangs.

I smiled and crouched down so that we were at eye level, despite the teeth flashing in my direction. “Hello, Beau,” I greeted quietly. “Nice to see you, too.”

The dog blinked, swiveling its long ears at the sound of my voice. Eyeing me suspiciously, as if it was just beginning to recognize the intruder in the garden, it gave a tentative tail wag.

“Beau!” called a voice, echoing out of the rain, making my heart jump to my throat and pound wildly. I stood as the voice drifted closer. “Where are you, boy? Chasing gremlins again?”

Beau barked happily and turned, bounding in the direction of the voice, splashing noisily through the puddles. And then, she appeared under the gate arch, scanning the courtyard for the missing dog, and I stopped breathing.

Ruling a kingdom hadn’t changed her. She still wore faded jeans and a T-shirt, her pale hair long and unbound. But power glowed around her, and even through the rain, she looked real and solid and larger than life, and completely beautiful. Beau came splashing up to her, and she dropped to her knees, scratching the dog’s ears. Then Beau looked back at me, wagging his tail, and she glanced up. Our eyes met.

We both froze. I saw my name on her lips, but no sound escaped her. Beau looked back and forth between us, whined, and nudged Meghan’s hand, snapping her out of the spell. She rose and walked toward me, uncaring of the rain, until we were inches apart. My heart pounded, and I looked down into the intense sapphire eyes of the Iron Queen.

“Ash.” The word was hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure whether I was real or not. “You’re here. How …” She blinked, and her voice became stronger as she took a step back. “No, you can’t … you shouldn’t be here. I told you never to come back. The iron …”

I reached out and took her hand, silencing her. “It can’t hurt me,” I promised. “Not anymore.” She gazed up at me, hope and uncertainty warring in her eyes, and I softly touched her cheek, her tears mingling with the rain. “I said I’d be back,” I told her, “and from now on, I’ll never leave your side. Nothing will keep me from you again.”

“How … ?” she whispered, but I bent down and kissed her, cutting off any protests. She gasped, and her arms slid around my waist, pulling us together. I hugged her close, wanting to feel her against my body, to prove that this was real. I was in the Iron Realm, and Meghan was in my arms. Beau barked and danced around us, and the rain poured down, drenching us completely, but we felt no urge to move for a long, long time.

WHEN I AWOKE NEXT, I was afraid to open my eyes, afraid even to move. Blackness pressed against my lids, and I kept them shut, fearful that when I opened my eyes, everything would have disappeared. I would be back at the Testing Grounds, the Guardian looming over me, its booming voice telling me I had failed. Or worse, that this was all a dream, and I had yet to complete the tests at all.

Very cautiously, I peeked through my lids, bracing myself, half expecting to see the stone walls of the castle, to feel a sudden stab of pain as my mind caught up to reality.

A white-walled room greeted me as I opened my eyes, hazy curtains drawn across a large glass window on the opposite wall. Sunlight slanted in through the crack, spilling across the carpeted floor, touching a pile of damp clothes lying in a heap next to the bed. The bed I was lying in. I blinked, memories of the previous night beginning to surface like wisps of smoke, foggy and unreal.

There was a sigh behind me, and something shifted against my back.

Carefully, afraid that this entire scene might shatter into reality, I turned. Meghan lay beside me under the covers, her eyes closed, her pale hair spilling over her face. I took a slow, ragged breath to calm my racing heart, taking a moment just to watch her. It was real. This was real. I gently brushed her hair from her cheek and watched her stir under my fingers, opening her eyes. Her smile brightened the whole room.

“I was afraid it was a dream,” she whispered.

“You have no idea how desperately I was hoping it wasn’t.” Cupping the back of her neck, I drew her close and kissed her again. She trailed her fingers over my bare chest, and I shivered, almost frightened by how much I loved this girl. But then, I’d gone to the End of the World, endured trials no creature should ever face, for her. I would do it again if I had to.

And compared to that, the question on my mind should’ve been easy. But as Meghan pulled back to look at me, I found my mind had gone blank, and I was more nervous than I had been in all my years as a Winter prince.

The question stayed on my mind as we lingered under the covers for the rest of the morning, feeling lazy and content and reluctant to leave each other’s arms. It continued to plague me when we finally got up in the middle of the afternoon, after the servants knocked meekly on the door asking if we were all right. Meghan ordered them to bring dry clothing, and I slipped into dark jeans and a T-shirt, feeling strange and slightly awkward in human clothes. I fidgeted, still pondering how I was going to ask her. It made my stomach twist every time I thought of it.

“Hey.” Meghan’s fingers on my arm nearly made me jump out of my skin. She smiled up at me, though her eyes were puzzled. “You seem awfully nervous this morning. Is something wrong?”

Now or never, Ash. I took a deep breath. “No,” I replied, turning to her, “nothing’s wrong, but I did want to ask you something. Come here a moment.”

Taking both her hands, I backed away to the middle of the floor, to an open space in front of the curtains. She followed, still wearing a bemused expression, and I paused a moment to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t … know how it’s done in your world,” I began, as she tilted her head at me. “I’ve seen it before … but, I’m not sure how to ask. It never really comes up in the Winter Court.”

Meghan blinked, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I know my role here,” I continued. “Whatever happens, I’m still your knight, and nothing will change that. You are queen of this realm, and I have no desire to rule. That said, I want to do this human thing right. I’ll still be at your side, fighting your enemies, standing with you no matter what comes at us. But I’m no longer satisfied with just being your knight and protector. I want something more.” I stopped and took a deep breath, then slowly released her hands, stepped back and sank to one knee. “What I’m trying to ask is … Meghan Chase, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Meghan’s eyes got big and round, then a brilliant smile broke over her face. The rest of the day passed in a blur, faces flashing by, unimportant, excitement and disbelief thick on the air. All I remembered clearly was that one moment, that one simple word that would change my life forever.

“Yes.”

THE WEDDING OF THE IRON QUEEN turned out to be much more extravagant than either of us expected. Marriage within fey society was almost unheard of—the most famous joining was Oberon and Titania’s, and they were from the same court. Even I had no idea why the two Summer monarchs chose to wed, but I suspected it involved power, much like everything else. But once it was announced that the Iron Queen was getting married to the former prince of the Winter Court, the news sent the entire Nevernever into an uproar. The other courts were scrambling over one another to find out what was going on. Rumors began to surface, spreading like wildfire: Meghan and I were making a bid for power, the Iron Realm was trying to gain more territory, I was a spy sent by Mab to join Iron with the Winter Court against Summer. None of the other rulers were pleased with the marriage. Oberon even tried to stop the wedding, stating that the laws of Summer and Winter forbade a marriage between courts. Of course, when Meghan heard this, she calmly told the Summer monarch that, as Queen of the Iron Realm, she could do what she pleased within her own land. Nor was I a prince of Winter any longer, so he could take his laws and sit on them.

Regardless, the actual wedding was an enormous affair, with representatives from all three courts present. Meghan’s human family would not be there, of course. I doubt any of them would’ve survived with their sanity intact, but I agreed to a smaller private ceremony with her family in the human world. I didn’t really see the point of two weddings, but Meghan insisted her family would see her married as well, so I had no choice but to concede.

The real wedding was held in the wyldwood, as the other courts couldn’t venture into the Iron Realm without poisoning themselves. And within a grove carpeted in wildflowers, where three courts of Faery gathered beneath the trunk of a truly massive tree, Meghan and I were wed before Summer, Winter, Iron and the entire Nevernever.

Human weddings have nothing on fey weddings, at least not the ones I’ve seen over the years. I wore the black-and-silver uniform of a Winter prince, as I had when I first saw Meghan at Elysium, so long ago. Though I was no longer part of the Unseelie Court, I wanted everyone to remember that I was still Ash, that I still belonged here, in the Nevernever. Mab and the Winter Court stood behind me, and I could feel their chill against my back, the frost coating the flowers around me. On the opposite side, Oberon, Titania and the Summer Court loomed tall and proud, glaring at Winter over the aisle separating them. And surrounding us all, the Iron fey, the third court of Faery, looked on. Gremlins and wood nymphs scampered through the grass and the trees, snarling and hissing at each other. Iron knights, their armor polished to a blinding metallic sheen, stood at attention down the aisle, opposite the sidhe knights of the Summer and Winter courts, awaiting the procession. For a moment, I marveled at the impossibility of it all; not long ago, the Iron fey were the deadliest threat the Nevernever had seen, and no one would tolerate them to live, much less share space within the wyldwood. But gazing around at the gathered faces of Summer, Winter and Iron, I felt a flicker of hope. It had taken a determined, halfhuman Summer princess and an ancient prophecy to mend the rift between the three courts, but she had done it. It would be hard, and it would take a lot of work, but maybe we could live in peace with each other, after all.

Movement in the crowd caught my attention. Directly opposite me, on the Seelie side, a familiar redhead poked his head from the crowd and saluted, giving me a devilish grin. I suppressed a wince. Puck and I hadn’t spoken much since the wedding announcement, and though he’d never show it, I suspected this day was going to be hard for him. I also had the sneaking suspicion that the Great Prankster had a few surprises in store for us, and that the after-party was going to get a little wild. I hoped that, whatever happened, the party wouldn’t turn into a riot and then a bloodbath.

But when the music started, I forgot about all of that. I didn’t think of the crowd and the courts and their endless squabbles. I didn’t see Puck and Mab, Oberon and Titania, or the Iron fey. I didn’t see anyone but her.

Meghan was stunning in her long white gown, bright gray embroidery scattered about like stars, catching the light. Her hair had been pinned up beneath the veil, with a few wispy, silver-blond strands hanging down to brush her bare shoulders. A satin train billowed behind her, a rippling river of white, carried over the grass by a trio of packrats. Her adoptive human father, Paul, stood beside her, his young-old face beaming with pride and a little fear. As the trumpets blared and the knights raised their swords, the faeries around us howled, raising their voices in a joyful cacophony, the tumult echoing over the trees and making the air shiver. As my bride-to-be drew closer, our eyes met through the veil, and I nearly stopped breathing. This was it. This was really happening.

I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as she reached the front, taking her place at my side. Meghan smiled back, and for a moment, we just stood there, lost in each other’s gaze. The howling fey, the stares of Summer, Winter and Iron, the blaring trumpets, all that faded away until it was just me and Meghan and nothing else.

Then Grimalkin leaped onto the old stump between us and sighed.

“I still do not see the point of my presiding over this ridiculous spectacle, but very well.” The cait sith yawned and sat down. “Of all the favors I have granted, this is by far the most tiresome. Shall we get it over with then?” Grimalkin sat up straighter and raised his voice, somehow being heard over the crowd. “We are gathered today,” he began in a lofty tone, “to witness the joining of these two in the completely useless, ostentatious ceremony of marriage. For reasons beyond me, they have decided to make their love official, and—”

“Grimalkin.” Meghan sighed, though she wore a faint, exasperated smile. “Just this once, could you please not be an ass?”

The cat twitched an ear. I could sense he was secretly amused. “I make no promises, Iron Queen.” He sniffed, and looked at me. “You have your own vows, then?”

We both nodded.

“Thank the heavens.” Under Meghan’s glare, he blinked and nodded sagely. “Very well. Let us get on with it. You may proceed when ready, prince.”

I reached for Meghan’s hand, exhaling slowly as I made my oath. “Meghan Chase,” I began, gazing into her eyes, “from this day forth, I vow to be your husband and your knight, to stand with you when no others will, to protect you and your kingdom with everything I have for the rest of my life. I swear I will be faithful, and I will love you until the very last breath leaves my body. Because you have more than my heart and my mind—you also own my soul.”

Meghan gave me a brilliant smile, her eyes going misty behind the veil. “Ash,” she murmured, and even though she didn’t say it out loud, I heard the echo of my True Name in her voice. “It’s because of you that I can be here today. You have always been there, never wavering, protecting me with no thought for yourself. You’ve been my teacher, my knight and my only love. Now, it’s my turn to make that promise.” She squeezed my hand, her voice soft but never faltering. “Today, I vow that we will never be apart again. I promise that I will be forever by your side, and I will be ready to face everything the world has to offer us.”

“Very touching,” remarked Grimalkin, scratching behind an ear. We both ignored him, and he sat up with a sniff. “Well, then. Shall we end this exercise ad nauseam? If there are any here who object to this joining, let them speak now or forever hold their peace. And if you do object, please have a valid reason for the objection so I do not have to stay here while you debate the problem.”

I could sense the rulers of both courts wanting to say something, arguments and objections ready to burst forth. But what could they offer? I wasn’t part of the Winter Court, a mere mortal, and Meghan was a queen. There was nothing they could say that was a valid argument. Grimalkin knew it as well, for after only a moment or two of strained silence, he stood up and raised his voice.

“Then let it be known, before these witnesses and the courts, that these two are joined forever as husband and wife, and let no force in the mortal world or Faery tear them apart. I now present to you the Queen and Consort of the Iron Court.” He yawned and looked at us affectionately. “I suppose now is the part where you kiss the—well, never mind, then.”

I had already raised Meghan’s veil and drawn her close. And beneath the great tree, in the midst of a roaring, hooting faery crowd, I kissed my new bride until everything around us faded away.

TIME PASSED, and I slowly adjusted to life in the Iron Court. I became used to the gremlins scurrying around the castle, trailing Meghan like faithful dogs yet still managing to wreck havoc where they passed. I no longer went for my sword when a squad of Iron knights approached Meghan. The curious, suspicious stares when I passed grew less and less frequent, until I became just another presence in the castle.

The Iron fey, I discovered, were a much more structured group than the faeries of Summer and Winter. Except for the ever-chaotic gremlins, they welcomed order, understood rank and hierarchy and the chain of command. I was prince consort to their queen, second only to Meghan herself: therefore, I was to be obeyed. Even Glitch, Meghan’s First Lieutenant, rarely questioned me. And the Iron knights obeyed my orders without fail. It was strange, not having to constantly watch my back for fear someone might stick a knife in it. Of course, there were always squabbles and politics within the Iron Court, as there were in any court of Faery. But for the most part, the fey here were more straightforward and businesslike, not seeking to trap me in a deadly game of words just for the fun of it.

Once I figured that out, I began to appreciate the Iron Realm a lot more.

Especially when, as a mortal, I could do things I never would’ve dreamed of doing as a fey.

Not long after the wedding, I awoke alone in the bed, with light coming from the room adjacent to us—Meghan’s office. Rising, I wandered into the room to find Meghan sitting at her desk with the small, flat screen she carried around like a tablet. It was a truly foreign device to me; with a mere touch of the screen’s face, she could pull up “files” and “email,” make pictures bigger or smaller, or whisk them away with a flick of her hand. I, of course, thought it was Iron glamour that allowed such magic, though when I mentioned this to Diode, a hacker elf in charge of the castle’s computer systems, he laughed so hysterically he couldn’t answer me, and I left in annoyance.

“Hey,” I murmured, slipping my arms around her from behind. “What are you doing?”

She paused a moment, resting her head against my arm, then reached up and pulled a pair of thin white wires from her ears. “Checking the itinerary for the day. Seems the Cog Dwarves have been having trouble with disappearances in the Under-city. I’ll have to get Glitch to see what’s going on down there. Diode wants me to ban all gremlins from the security rooms, saying he can’t think with them running around getting into everything.” She sighed and leaned back in the chair, lacing an arm around my neck while the other hand still held the tablet. “And there are a ton of requests from the northern territories, saying knights from the Winter Court are causing trouble, harassing the locals on this side of the border. Looks like Mab and I need to have a talk. That’s going to be a fun conversation.”

She sighed and laid the tablet flat on the desk. I stared at the words flashing across the screen, a completely foreign vocabulary to me, even if I understood the language. Meghan glanced up at me, and a mischievous smile crossed her face.

“Here.” Rising, she plucked the screen off the desktop and shoved it toward me. “Take it. I’ll show you how it works.”

I balked, taking a step backward, eyeing the tablet as if it was a venomous snake. “Why?”

“Ash, you’re human now.” Meghan smiled and continued to hold the screen toward me. “You don’t have to be afraid of this anymore. It can’t hurt you.”

“I don’t have Iron glamour,” I told her. “It won’t work for me.”

She laughed. “You don’t need glamour to work this. It’s not magic, just technology. Anyone can use it. Now, come on.” She waggled it in my direction. “Just give it a try.”

I sighed. Very cautiously, I reached out and took it, still half expecting to feel a searing pain in my hands as my flesh reacted to the metal. When nothing happened, I held it gingerly in both hands and stared at the screen, not knowing what to do.

Meghan slipped beside me, watching over my shoulder. “Touch the screen here,” she ordered softly, demonstrating with graceful fingers. “See? You can access files here, pull up pictures, make them bigger like this. Try it.”

I did, and to my surprise, the tablet responded to my clumsy attempts, working exactly as it had for Meghan. I dragged a picture onto the screen, made it bigger, shrank it and whisked it away, feeling a foolish grin creep across my face. I discovered an entire library within the files of this strange device, more books than I had thought possible, all contained in this tiny screen. With the touch of a finger, music filled the air, one of the thousands of songs Meghan had “downloaded” from the “web.” I must’ve played with the thing for at least twenty minutes, before Meghan laughingly took it back, saying she still had work to do.

“See, now,” she told me, as I reluctantly gave it up, “being human isn’t all bad, is it?”

I watched as she sat down and began working again, fingers flying across the screen, eyes half-closed in concentration. Eventually, she became aware of me staring at her and looked up, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I want one,” I told her simply. She laughed and this time, I grinned back.

THAT WAS THE BEGINNING.

Humanity didn’t come easily for me, or all at once. I still missed my glamour, the easy way my body used to move, the quickness and the strength of my Unseelie heritage. To keep up my skills, Glitch and I would spar daily in the training yard as the Iron knights looked on, and though I remembered how to wield a sword, I never seemed to move fast enough. The maneuvers that used to be second nature were extremely difficult to impossible now. True, I had been fighting for a very long time, and my experience was such that none of the knights could touch me in a one-on-one match. But I lost to Glitch more often than not, and it was frustrating. I had been better once.

My physical limitations weren’t my only worries. I was often plagued with nightmares of my past, where I would wake in the night gasping, covered in cold sweat, ghostly faces ebbing into reality. Voices haunted my sleep, accusing, hateful voices, demanding to know why I was happy when they had died. My dreams were filled with blood and darkness, and there were many nights when I couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling, waiting for dawn. Gradually, however, the nightmares diminished, as I began to forget that part of my life and focus on my new one. The dreams never ceased completely, but the demon at the heart of those nightmares wasn’t me any longer. I was no longer Ash the Unseelie prince. I had moved on.

But, every once in a great while, I would have the surreal feeling that I was missing something. That my life with Meghan wasn’t what it appeared to be. That I had forgotten something important. I would shake it off, convincing myself I was simply adjusting to being human, but it always returned, taunting me, a memory keeping just out of reach.

Regardless, time moved on in the Iron Realm. Meghan ruled without opposition, maneuvering the labyrinth of fey politics as if she had been born for it. I immersed myself in technology; laptops, cell phones, computer games, software. And gradually, I grew accustomed to being human, slowly forgetting my faery side—my glamour, speed and strength—until I couldn’t remember what it felt like at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY THE MARCH OF TIME

A frantic beeping dragged me out of a comfortable sleep. Groggily, I raised myself up, being careful not to disturb Meghan, and reached for the phone on the end table. The glowing blue numbers on the screen proclaimed it 2:12 a.m., and that Glitch was going to die for waking me up like this.

I pressed the button, put the phone to my ear and growled: “Someone better be dead.”

“Sorry, highness.” Glitch’s voice hissed in my ear, whispering loudly. “But we have a problem. Is the queen still asleep?”

I was instantly awake. “Yes,” I murmured, throwing back the covers and rising from the bed. The Iron Queen was a somewhat heavy sleeper, often exhausted by the demands of ruling a kingdom, and tended to be cranky when woken up in the middle of the night. After getting snarled at several times for a middle-of-the-night emergency, Glitch started directing all midnight problems to me. Between us, we were usually able to handle the situation before the queen knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” I asked, shrugging into my clothes while still pressing the phone to my ear with a shoulder. Glitch gave a half angry, half fearful sigh.

“Kierran has run off again.”

“What?”

“His room was empty, and we think he managed to slip over the wall. I have four squads out looking for him, but I thought you should know your son has pulled another vanishing act.”

I groaned and scrubbed a hand across my face. “Get the gliders ready. I’ll be right there.”

GLITCH MET ME on the highest tower, the lightning in his hair snapping angrily, his purple eyes glowing in the darkness.

“We’ve already searched his usual hideouts,” he informed me as I came up. “He’s not in any of them, and we’ve been looking since midnight. We think he managed to get out of the city this time.”

“How did he get over the wall?” I asked, glowering at the first lieutenant, who grimaced.

“One of the gliders is missing,” he said, and I growled a curse. Kierran, blue-eyed and silver-haired, was nearly eight in human years, and had just enough faery blood to make him as troublesome as a phouka. From the time he could walk, the household staff had been unable to keep up with him. Nimble as a squirrel, he scaled the walls, climbed out windows and perched on the highest towers, grinning in delight while everyone scrambled about to coax him down. His daring and curiosity only increased with age, and if you told him he could not do something, you pretty much ensured that he was going to try.

His mother was going to kill me.

Glitch looked faintly ashamed. “He was asking about them this morning. I should’ve picked up on it then. Any idea where he might’ve gone?”

Thinking back, I sighed. Kierran had been obsessed with the other territories of late, asking about the Summer and Winter courts and the wyldwood. That afternoon, we had been practicing archery in the courtyard, and he’d asked what type of things I had hunted. When I told him about the dangerous creatures in the wyldwood, about giants and chimeras and wyverns that could rip you apart or swallow you whole, he’d almost glowed with excitement.

“Will you take me hunting someday, Father? In the wyldwood?”

I looked at him. He gazed back innocently, diamond-blue eyes sparkling beneath long silver bangs, gripping his bow tightly in both hands. The tips of his pointed ears peeked out of his hair, a constant reminder that he wasn’t quite human. That the blood of the Iron Queen flowed through him, making him faster, stronger, more daring than a normal child. He had already demonstrated a talent for glamour, and he picked up archery and sword fighting faster than he had a right to. Still, he was only eight, still a child, and innocent to the dangers of the rest of Faery.

“When you’re older,” I told him. “Not yet. But when you’re ready, I’ll take you.”

He grinned, lighting up his whole face. “Promise?”

“Yes.” I knelt beside him and straightened out the bow, pointing it the right way. “Now, try to hit the target again.”

He giggled, apparently satisfied, and didn’t bring it up again. And I didn’t give it another thought the rest of the afternoon. I should’ve known better.

“I have an idea.” I sighed, and whistled for one of the gliders hanging from the wall. It turned its insectlike head and buzzed sleepily. “Have the knights search the wyldwood, particularly around the borders of the courts. And let’s hope he’s not found his way into Tir Na Nog.”

“The other courts won’t like it,” Glitch muttered. “We’re not really supposed to go into the wyldwood without their permission.”

“This is my son.” I fixed him with a piercing glare, and he looked away. “I don’t care if we have to tear up the entire wyldwood. I want him found, is that understood?”

“Yes, sire.”

I nodded curtly and stepped to the edge of the balcony, spreading my arms. The glider spiraled down from the wall and crawled up my back, unfurling its wings. I looked back at Glitch, watching us solemnly, and sighed.

“Wake the queen,” I told him. “Tell her the situation. This is something she needs to know right away.” He winced, and I didn’t envy him the job. “Tell her I’ll be back with Kierran soon.”

And with that, I pushed myself off the edge and swooped into empty space. The air currents caught the glider’s wings, bearing us aloft, and we soared in the direction of the wyldwood.

I DIDN’T HAVE TO SEARCH FAR. Only a few miles after I crossed the border of the Iron Realm and entered the wyldwood, I spotted the glint of a glider’s wing in the moonlight and pushed my own glider to land nearby. Leaving the two iron creatures to buzz at each other excitedly, I clicked on a flash-light and studied the ground around the landing site. Despite my human vision, centuries of hunting and tracking through the wyldwood could not be forgotten in a few short years, and I soon found a set of small footprints, leading off into the tangled undergrowth. Grimly, praying nothing would find him before I did, I followed.

A few miles in, the tracks took on an ominous cast, as something large and heavy joined the smaller prints through the forest. Stalking them. Soon after that, the stride between the prints lengthened, stretching out to a run, joined by snapped branches and twigs, and my blood ran cold. When I found his bow, broken and splintered, dread squeezed my chest until I could hardly breathe, and I started to run.

A scream shattered the stillness of the night. It turned my blood to ice, and I charged blindly in that direction, drawing my sword as I went. The icy fey weapon seared my hands with cold, but I was too far gone to notice.

“Kierran!” I shouted, bursting through the undergrowth.

A roar answered me. Something huge and terrible clung to a tree a few yards away, beating batlike wings for leverage and clawing at the branches. Its body was bony and leonine, with blood-red fur and a matted black mane. Its long tail ended in a spiky ball, bristling like a huge sea urchin and leaving spines in the adjacent trees as it thrashed in frustration.

High overhead, a small, bright figure pressed back into the limbs of the tree, trying to scramble higher, away from the vicious beast swiping at him a few feet away. His tearful blue eyes met mine, but his cry was drowned out by the bellowing of the monster below.

“Hey!” I roared, and two burning red eyes snapped to me. “Get away from him now!”

The manticore howled and leaped off the tree, landing with a booming crash on the ground. Lashing its tail, it stalked toward me, its shockingly human face pulled into an animalistic snarl, baring pointed teeth. I gripped the sword, ignoring the numbing chill that spread up my arm, and took a deep breath.

The manticore lunged, hooked talons swiping at my face, jaws gaping to tear into my throat. I dodged, lashing out with the sword, cutting a gash in the monster’s shoulder. It screamed, an oddly human wail, and spun with blazing red eyes. Its tail flicked out, almost too quick to see, and I felt something thwap against my legs.

Blinding pain came seconds later, nearly dropping me to my knees. I reached down with one hand and felt the long black spines of the manticore’s tail sunk deep into my leg. Knowing it would continue to pump venom into me the longer I left it, I grasped the spine and ripped it away, clenching my jaw to keep from screaming. The spine was barbed at the end, and tore a gaping hole in my leg, but manticore venom would quickly paralyze and kill its victim if left in the body.

Overhead, Kierran cried out in terror. The manticore growled and stalked closer to me, red eyes glowing in the darkness.

I could feel the poison burning its way through my leg, and fought to remain steady on my feet, watching as the monster circled me, twitching its deadly tail. Waiting for the venom to take effect. Casually, it flicked its tail again, and I felt another barb slam into my shoulder, making me gasp. I didn’t have much time left. Numbness was creeping through my leg, and soon my arm would follow. But I had to save Kierran. I would at least make sure Kierran got home safe.

Feigning weakness, I staggered and fell to my knees, letting the tip of my blade strike the earth. It was what the manticore was waiting for. The monster sprang at me with a howl, going in for the kill, jaws gaping. I fell backward, bringing my sword up as the manticore lunged over me, sinking my blade deep into its shaggy chest.

The creature screamed and collapsed on top of me, pinning me to the earth. Its body smelled of blood and rotten meat. I tried shoving it off as it twitched and kicked in its death throes, but it was too heavy and I was in too much pain to move it. And so I lay there, pinned under a dead manticore, knowing I probably wouldn’t walk away from this. I could feel the venom working its way through my leg, the spine still piercing my shoulder. Ash the Winter prince would have healed from such wounds, his fey body instinctively drawing in glamour to throw off the sickness, repairing itself with an unending supply of magic. But I was only mortal, and had no such power.

As I fought for consciousness, I became aware of Kierran, grunting and crying as he tried pulling the dead manticore off me. “Get up,” I heard him sniffle. “Father, get up.”

“Kierran,” I called softly, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I tried again, but a shout echoed through the trees, and Kierran jerked his head up. “Over here!” he cried, waving both arms. “Glitch, we’re over here!”

Familiar voices surrounded us. Glitch’s voice, frantic and angry. The clanking of the Iron knights as they pulled the manticore away. Kierran’s sobs as he tried explaining what had happened. I tried answering the questions that buzzed around my head, but my voice was as numb as the rest of me, and the shapes crowding my vision were blurry and indistinct.

“That leg looks pretty bad,” I heard someone murmur to Glitch as they bent over me. “We’ll try to save it, but he is a mortal, after all.”

“Do what you can,” Glitch muttered back. “I’m just glad we found him alive. The queen is not going to be happy.”

Their voices became garbled after that, blending into the background. Eventually, sounds, people, voices, all blurred together like ink, and turned into darkness.

I THOUGHT I WOULD DIE, but I lived.

My leg was never the same. The venom had damaged it too badly. Luckily for me, the barb in my shoulder had passed clean through and come out the other side, leaving nothing behind but a puckering scar. But forever after that fight, I walked with a limp, and if I stood on the leg too long or put too much weight on it, it would give out from under me. The sparring matches with Glitch and the knights came to a halt, and I had to lean on a cane when traveling or walking any distance.

I didn’t mind … too much. I still had my son, my wife and my health, though that last fight demonstrated yet again how fragile mortality was. A fact Meghan made painfully clear once I was on my feet again. The Iron Queen had been livid, blue eyes flashing as she ripped into me, demanding to know what I’d been thinking, going into the wyldwood alone.

“You’re human now, Ash,” she said, finally calming down a bit. “I know you think you can take on the world, but that isn’t the case anymore. Please, please, promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“I don’t really have much of a choice now, do I?” I sighed, grabbing my cane to limp out of the room. Her gaze followed me, sad and concerned, and I paused in the doorway. “Don’t worry, your majesty. I’m aware of my limitations.” I tried to keep the bitterness and pain from my voice, but it slipped out anyway. “I won’t be fighting anything for a long time. I can promise you that.”

“That’s not what concerns me,” Meghan replied softly, but I was already out the door.

Time passed, and in the Iron Realm, the great clock tower in the center of the city kept track of its march. Kierran grew into a fierce warrior, deadly, light on his feet, possessing a speed unnatural in a human. And when he reached a certain point in his life, just past his seventeenth birthday, he simply … stopped aging. As if he’d decided that he was happy as he was and refused to grow up any more.

Meghan never changed; though she matured with the passing of time, becoming shrewd and wise and a truly formidable queen, her body remained as young and beautiful as the rest of Faery.

And I, as a human in the Iron Realm, where time did pass and seconds ticked by the years, did not.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

I turned my head at the sound of Meghan’s voice, seeing the Iron Queen paused in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her. Though she was stunning in a long evening gown, her hair hanging in glittering curls down her back, she did not look pleased.

“Thinking?” I asked, hoping to derail her by acting bewildered and innocent. Unfortunately, that rarely worked with the Iron Queen, and tonight was no exception.

“Don’t give me that, Ash.” Meghan came into the bedroom, glowering at me. “You know what I’m talking about. Why did you tell Kierran he could go to Elysium this year? The last thing we need is him picking a fight with a Winter gentry, or seducing someone in my father’s court. They’re already leery enough of him as it is.”

“He’s been asking to go for years,” I told her, swirling my cloak around my shoulders. “I think he’s old enough to see what it’s like. We can’t shelter him forever. He’s going to have to learn about the other courts, as prince of the Iron Realm.”

Meghan glared at me a moment longer, then relented with a sigh. “Oh, fine. I know you’re right,” she said, giving me an exasperated smile. “It’s just … he still seems so young to me, still just a kid, getting into trouble. Where does the time go?” She crossed to the window, gazing out at Tir Na Nog. The sun was setting, and the huge clock tower in the very center of the city was silhouetted black against the evening sky.

“Twenty years, Ash,” she murmured. “It’s hard to believe it’s been more than twenty years since we beat the false king. It feels like yesterday.”

For you, perhaps, I thought, glancing at the reflection in the mirror. Gray eyes in a worn, lined face stared back at me. Wrinkles crouched under my eyes and at the corners of my mouth, marring my skin, and a scar traced its way from my left cheek to under my jaw, a trophy from a cockatrice hunt in the wyldwood. Lately, my temples had become touched with gray and my shoulder—the one that had taken the manticore sting—still ached, a dull, persistent throb, whenever it rained. Twenty years had left its mark, and I was all too aware of the passing of time.

And Meghan, my beautiful, half-faery wife, was unchanged.

“The carriage is here,” Meghan announced, peering over the windowsill. “And there’s Kierran, waiting for us by the gate. I guess we should go.” She turned to me, a flicker of worry passing through her eyes. “Do you need help getting down the stairs?”

“I’m fine,” I told her quietly. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, and Meghan drew back, still worried. “All right, but I want you to call for a servant if you—”

“Meghan, I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, and she frowned at me. I forced a smile to soften the words. “Take Kierran on ahead. I’ll ride with Glitch and the guards. Just go. Please.”

Her eyes flashed, and for a moment I thought she would argue with me, slip into the firm, no-nonsense Iron Queen persona that had everyone terrified. But after a pause, she simply nodded and left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Another Elysium. Another gathering of the courts, coming together to pretend they got along, when all they wanted was to rip each other into bloody strips. As a faery prince, I hadn’t liked Elysium, and as a human I despised it. Those who remembered me as Prince Ash—the cold, dangerous ice prince who, for centuries, demanded fear and awe and respect—saw only a human now. A weak, crippled human who grew older and weaker every year, relying more and more on the protection of his queen. I saw the looks of hunger and pity and contempt that went around the courtyard when Meghan walked in with me limping beside her. I also didn’t miss the subtle looks of interest between the nobles of Summer and Winter; if I was the weakest link in the Iron Court, how could they use it to their advantage? Faery politics and power plays; they would never do anything that would force a head-on confrontation with the Iron Queen, and yet I hated being thought of as exploitable.

With a sigh, I reached for the cane sitting against the wall and pushed myself upright, taking a last glance in the mirror. The black cloak partially hid the cane but could not quite conceal the limp or the stiffness of my right leg. I still carried my sword, however, refusing to abandon it, even if I didn’t draw it often. The day I was unable to use my weapon was the day I would finally give it up.

Glitch met me at the bottom of the stairs, keeping his expression carefully neutral as I limped painfully down the last step. “Her Majesty and Prince Kierran have already left for Elysium,” he informed me with a slight bow. “She told me that you wanted them to go on ahead. Is anything wrong, sire?”

“No.” I ignored his offered arm and kept walking, slowly, painfully, down the hall. My leg throbbed, but I gritted my teeth and continued lurching forward, refusing to pause or look back. Glitch fell into step beside me, ready to grab my arm if I stumbled, but said nothing through the long, agonizing journey to the waiting carriage.

We reached the Unseelie palace without speaking, and I turned to Glitch as the carriage pulled up at the entrance. “Wait here,” I told him, watching his eyebrows arch in surprise. “You don’t have to accompany me. I know this castle like the back of my hand. I’m going on alone.”

“Sire, I really don’t think—”

“That’s an order, Glitch.”

He looked reluctant, but the Iron fey had always bowed to rank, and finally he nodded. “All right. Just … be careful, Ash. Meghan will kill me if anything happens to you.”

He meant well, but the resentment inside only grew stronger. Gripping my cane, I turned my back on the First Lieutenant and walked into the icy, frozen halls of the Winter palace alone.

I really should have known better, but pride had always been my downfall, even before I became human. Save for a few brutish ogre guards, the frigid halls of the Winter palace were mostly deserted, meaning everyone was already at the gathering in the ballroom. But as I turned a corner, a snicker crept from an open doorway, and a motley of redcaps spilled into the hall, blocking my path.

I stumbled to a halt, observing the situation. Like most redcaps, these were short, stocky and savage looking, their wool hats soaked in the blood of their victims and their eyes a vicious yellow. All of them wore jagged grins that showed off their razorlike fangs, and most had crude weapons tucked into their belts. Redcaps were stupid and violent, and their dangerous reputations stemmed from the fact that they viewed everything in terms of predator and prey. Any concept of rank, title, and hierarchy was lost on them. It didn’t matter if you were a king or a prince or a noble; if you were weak, if they thought they could take you apart, they would, regardless of the consequences.

I cursed my stubbornness and faced the redcaps with a calm, blank expression. Any sign of weakness on my part would trigger an attack. Redcaps might be crass and stupid, but there was a reason they were feared throughout the Nevernever. Ash the Winter prince had nothing to fear from a redcap motley, but I hadn’t been him for a long time.

“Well, well.” The leader grinned, cracking his thick knuckles. “Look who it is, boys. Fancy meeting you here, prince. Especially without the queen’s skirt to hide behind.” The other redcaps snickered and eased forward, closing the circle like hungry wolves. “Did the queen finally get tired of her little human pet and turn you out into the cold?”

I took one careful step forward, meeting the leader’s eyes. “If you think this will be easy,” I said in a soft, low voice, “you’re sadly mistaken. I might not be your prince any longer, but there’s still enough of him left to turn the lot of you into a few smears on the floor.”

The leader’s grin faltered. The other redcaps eyed each other and shifted nervously, but didn’t back down. For just a moment, I wished Ash the Winter prince were here; just the chill he could produce when angry or threatened was enough to send most would-be challengers running.

The redcap leader shook himself then, and his leer came creeping back. “Pretty bold words, little man.” He sneered. “But your scent says otherwise. You smell completely, utterly human. There’s nothing left of the Winter prince, not anymore.” He bared his fangs, running a black tongue over sharp yellow teeth. “And I’m betting you taste exactly like humans, too.”

The redcaps tensed, ready to fling themselves at me, their eyes glowing with eager bloodshed. I reached beneath my cloak and gripped the sword hilt, ignoring the chill that burned my fingers. I might not survive this, but I’d take as many of the bloodthirsty creatures with me as I could. And hope that my son or my queen would avenge my death.

“Father!”

The shout echoed down the corridor, loud and clear, making the icicles tremble on the ceiling. The redcaps snarled and whirled around, brandishing weapons at the intruder who would ruin their fun.

Kierran stood at the end of the hallway, tall and imposing in a uniform of black-and-gray, his eyes flashing like angry stars in the shadows. His pale hair was tied behind him, making him look older, more severe than I’d seen before. Sharp cheekbones led up to his long, pointed ears, which were usually hidden by his hair, masking his true nature. But tonight, standing motionless and proud at the edge of the light, he looked inhuman, beautiful and completely fey.

The redcap leader blinked at the sudden arrival of the Iron prince. “Prince Kierran,” he growled, sounding nervous. “What a surprise to see you here. We were just … ah …”

“I know what you were doing.” Kierran’s voice was cold, making me blink at how much he sounded like a certain Winter prince, long ago. “Threatening the consort of the Iron Queen is a crime punishable by death. Do you think, just because he is human, that I will spare any of your lives?”

His words stung. Just a human. Just a mortal, weak and unimportant. Kierran wasn’t looking at me, however. His icy gaze fastened on the redcaps, who snarled and bared their fangs at him. The redcap leader drew himself up with a sneer.

“All right, boy, just look—”

A flash of metal, as Kierran’s arm whipped out, faster than anyone could see. The leader blinked, going silent midsentence, mouth open as if he had just lost his train of thought. The other redcaps frowned in confusion, until the leader’s head abruptly tumbled from his shoulders, striking the ground with a thump.

Howls and shrieks filled the air, and the motley turned to flee. But Kierran was already lunging into their midst, iron blade flashing in short, deadly arcs. I knew what a lethal fighter he was; I’d trained him myself, and his lessons had not gone to waste. Watching my son slaughter the redcap gang—without effort, without mercy—I felt a nasty glow of pride, as well as a bitter lump settle in my chest. That was me once.

It never would be again.

It was over in seconds. Kierran wasted no effort or time destroying the motley, striking with lightning speed and precision. I’d trained the boy well. The last redcap was still tumbling to the floor in pieces when Kierran slammed his blade home with a flourish, then turned to grin at me.

“Father.” Kierran bowed, and a mischievous smile crept over his face. Amazing how he could go from a cold, icy killer to a charming young prince in no time at all. At the Iron Court, Kierran was the darling of everyone, especially the ladies, with a devilish streak a mile wide.

“Kierran.” I nodded back, not really liking that gleeful look. “What are you doing here?”

My son grinned at me. “The queen was getting worried that you hadn’t arrived yet. I offered to go look for you, in case you got into trouble. She said you would be all right, because Glitch would be there with you, but I said I’d make sure. So …” He made a great show of looking up and down the hall. “Where is Glitch, anyway? Did you leave him at home? I bet he’s not happy about that.”

“He’s back in the carriage.” I motioned Kierran forward, taking his arm as he helped me down the carnage-strewn hallway.

Already the bodies were disappearing, disintegrating into mud and leeches and other nasty things. Redcaps left nothing pleasant behind when they died. “And you’ll say nothing of this to your mother, understand?”

“Of course not,” Kierran replied, but he was still grinning.

Together we entered the ballroom, packed wall to icy wall with Summer and Winter fey. Iron fey were present as well, but only a scattering here and there, keeping well back from the crowds and the hostile glares from Summer and Winter. Music played, dark and dramatic, and in the center of the floor, dozens of fey gentry spun and danced with each other.

Beside me, Kierran was scanning the room, his blue eyes clearly searching for someone. His gaze stopped on a willowy Summer girl with long chestnut hair and green eyes, standing in a corner talking to a dryad. She glanced at him, smiled shyly and quickly looked away, feigning disinterest. But her gaze kept straying back, and Kierran fidgeted at my side.

“Kierran,” I warned, and he grinned sheepishly, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t get any ideas. You know the rules here.”

He sighed, becoming sober in an instant. “I know,” he murmured, turning away from the girl. “And it’s not fair. Why should individuals have to bend to the prejudices between the courts?”

“It is what it is,” I replied as we made our way through the room, weaving through ranks of fey gentry. They moved aside with looks of disdain and contempt. “And you won’t be changing it, no matter how hard you try. It’s been this way since the beginning of Faery.”

“It never stopped you,” Kierran said. His voice was calm and matter-of-fact, but I caught the hint of a challenge below the surface. That would have to end, here and now. I did not want my son getting ideas into his head that might kill him.

I stopped, pulling him to a halt, and leaned close. My voice was low and rough as I met his eyes. “Do you really want to be like me?”

He met my gaze for a few seconds, before lowering his eyes. “Forgive me, Father,” he muttered. “I spoke out of turn.” He didn’t look at me, but I continued to stare at him until he bowed and took a step back. “I will comply with your wishes, and the laws of this realm. I will not engage the Summer or Winter courts in anything beyond diplomacy.” He finally looked up, his blue eyes hard as he met my gaze. “Now, if you will excuse me, Father, I will return to the queen and inform her of your arrival.”

I nodded. It was a victory, but a hollow one. Kierran bowed once more and slipped away, vanishing into the crowd, the chill from his passing making me shiver.

Alone in a crowded room, I found an isolated corner and leaned against the wall, watching the beautiful, dangerous and volatile creatures around me with the barest twinge of nostalgia. Not long ago, I had been one of them.

Then, the crowd parted a bit, and through the sea of bodies, I saw the dance floor.

Meghan, my beautiful, unchanged faery queen, swirled around the room, as elegant and graceful as the gentry surrounding her. Holding her in his arms, as handsome and charming as he had been twenty years ago, was Puck.

My stomach tightened, and I gripped my cane so hard my arm spasmed. I couldn’t catch my breath. Puck and Meghan glided around the floor, flashes of color among the other dancers, their eyes only on each other. They were laughing and smiling, oblivious to the crowd watching and my slow death in the corner.

I pushed myself from the wall and walked forward, shouldering my way through the crush, ignoring the growls and curses thrown my way. My hand reached under my cloak and grasped the sword hilt, welcoming the searing pain. I didn’t know what I would do, nor did I care. My mind had shut off, and my body was on autopilot, reacting instinctively. If it had been anyone but Puck … but it was Puck, and he was dancing with my queen. Rage tinted my vision red, and I started to draw my sword. I couldn’t beat Robin Goodfellow in a fight, and my subconscious knew I couldn’t, but emotion had taken over and all I could see was Puck’s heart on the end of my blade.

However, as I neared the floor, Puck spun Meghan around, long silvery hair swirling about her, and she threw back her head and laughed. Her chiming voice hit me like a brick wall, and I stumbled to a halt, my gut clenching so hard I felt nauseous. How long had it been since I’d heard that laugh, seen that smile? As I watched them together, my former best friend and my faery wife, the sick feeling spread to every part of my body. They looked … natural … together; two otherworldly, elegant fey, forever young, graceful and beautiful. They looked like they belonged.

In that moment of despair, I realized I couldn’t give her any of that. I couldn’t dance with her, protect her, offer her eternity. I was human. Destined to age, wither and eventually die. I loved her so much, but would she feel the same when I was old and doddering and she was still as ageless as time?

My hand slipped off the hilt of my sword. Puck and Meghan were still dancing, laughing, spinning about the room. Their voices stabbed at me, a thousand needles piercing my chest. I turned and melted back into the crowd, left the ballroom and limped down the dark, icy corridors of the palace until I reached the carriage. Glitch took one look at my face and silently climbed out of the seat, leaving me in the shadows.

Slumping forward on the bench, I put my face in my hands and closed my eyes, feeling completely and utterly alone.

EVEN MORE TIME PASSED.

Dropping my hands, I raised my bleary eyes to an empty hall, squinting to see through the gloom. The light streaming in the windows behind me did little to chase back the shadows, but I was almost sure I had heard someone come in. One of the servants, perhaps, come to check on the withered, gray-haired human, to make sure he hadn’t fallen from his chair. Or to help him totter back to his room, to curl up in his single bed, alone and pushed aside.

Meghan was gone. War had come to the Iron Kingdom at last, despite many years of peace, and the Iron Queen had gone to help the Summer King in the battle against Winter. Glitch was there beside her, commanding her army and Kierran had become a monster on the battlefield, carving through enemy ranks with the icy sword that had once belonged to me. Most of the castle had gone to war, following their queen into battle. Even the gremlins had gone, their constant chatter and buzzing voices missing from the walls, leaving the palace silent, cold and empty. Only I had been left behind. Waiting for everyone to return. Forgotten.

Rain plinked against the windowpanes, and I stirred. Outside, lightning blazed in the sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I wondered where Meghan was, what she and Kierran were doing right now.

Lightning flickered again, and in the flash, a figure appeared beside me, a dark, robed figure in a hood and cowl, standing silently at my arm. Had I been younger, I might’ve leaped up, drawn my sword. Now I was simply too tired.

I blinked and stared at the intruder, peering through my filmy vision. The robed figure gazed back, its face hidden in shadow, not attacking or threatening, just watching. Waiting. A memory stirred to life, rising from the cobwebs of the past, like a long forgotten dream. “I … remember you.”

The Guardian nodded. “We are at the end of your trials, knight of the Iron Court,” it said, and thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windows. “And you have discovered the final truth about being human. No matter how strong, no matter how brave, mortals cannot escape the march of time. As a human in the Iron Court, you will grow old, while everyone around you will remain as they are, forever. That is the price of mortality. You will die, and you will die alone.”

As it said these words, a cold hand touched my shoulder, and a spasm went through one side of my body. I jerked, nausea and dizziness flooding through me, and tried to stand, groping for the door. My bad leg crumpled and I fell, striking my head on the cold floor, the breath knocked from my lungs. Gasping, I dragged myself across the room with one arm, my left side numb and dead, but the room spun violently, and darkness crawled along the edge of my vision. Fighting pain and nausea, I tried calling for help, but my voice left my throat in a hoarse rasp, and there was no one to hear.

Except the Guardian, which hadn’t moved from where it stood watching me struggle. Watching me die. “Death,” it droned, cold and impassive in the flickering lights, “comes for all mortals. In the end, it will come for you as well.”

I made one last effort to get up, to keep living, though a part of me wondered why I would even resist. But it didn’t matter. I was so tired. My head touched the cold floor, darkness covered me like a soft, cool blanket and I felt the last breath escape my lips as my heart—finally and irreversibly—stopped fighting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE FINAL SACRIFICE

Cold.

Everything was cold.

I was flying down a dark tunnel, watching fragments of my life flash before me, unable to stop. Riding with Meghan through the wyldwood. Watching Kierran and Glitch practice in the courtyard. The birth of my son. Dancing with Meghan in the ballroom. Our wedding …

Gasping, I bolted upright on a cold, hard floor, my heart slamming against my ribs, panicked, loud and alive. Clutching my chest, I gazed around, not knowing where I was. Stone walls surrounded me, candles flickering in the alcoves, casting everything in shadow. The tall hooded figure stood nearby, silently watching, and with a jolt, everything came flooding back.

The Testing Grounds. The trials. I had come here in the desperate need to earn a soul, to be with Meghan in the Iron Realm. I hunched forward, holding my head in my hands. I couldn’t think straight. My mind felt like a tangle of old string, trying to sort out what was real and what was imagined.

I could feel the cold stare of the Guardian, weighing me, watching what I would do.

“Was it real?” My voice came out hoarse and raspy, unfamiliar to me. “Was any of it real?”

The Guardian watched me, unmoving. “It could be.”

“Ash!”

Footsteps pounded toward me and Puck came into view. For a moment, I felt a stab of hatred as I gazed at my old nemesis, the memory of him and Meghan dancing and laughing together raging in my mind … but then I paused. That hadn’t happened. None of it had happened. My entire human life—my marriage, my wife and son—that was all an illusion.

“Dammit, ice-boy—” Puck panted as he jogged up. “We were looking everywhere for you. What happened? Did we miss the test? Is it done already?”

I gazed at him in disbelief. Seconds. Only a few seconds had passed, but to me, it had been a lifetime. Gingerly, I stood, drawing in a slow breath. My leg was straight and healthy, my eyesight clear and undimmed. When I looked at my hands, pale, smooth skin greeted my sight, when I’d become used to seeing wrinkles and age spots. I clenched my fist and felt the strength in my limbs, “It is done,” the Guardian intoned. “The trials are complete. You have passed the gauntlet, knight of the Iron Court. You have seen what it takes to become human—weakness of the flesh, conscience and mortality. Without these things, a soul would wither and die inside you. You have come far, farther than anyone before you. But there is still one final question. One last thing you must ask yourself, before you are ready for a soul.

“Do you truly want one?”

“What?” Puck, coming to stand beside me, glared at the Guardian. “What kind of question is that? What do you think he’s been doing all this time, picking daisies? You couldn’t spring that question before you put him through hell?”

I groped for his shoulder, putting a hand on it to stop him. Puck bristled, angry and indignant, but I knew what the Guardian was asking. Before, I didn’t know what being human meant. I couldn’t understand. Not as I was.

I did now.

The Guardian didn’t move. “The Ensoulment Ceremony begins at dawn. Once started, it cannot be stopped. I offer you this one final choice, knight. Should you wish it, I can unmake everything that happened to you—all memories of this place, everything you have learned, as if the trials never happened. You can return to Winter with your friends, no different than you were before, an immortal, soulless fey.

“Or, you can claim your soul and keep everything that comes with it—conscience, human weakness, mortality.” The Guardian finally moved, switching its staff to the other hand, preparing to disappear. “Whatever your decision,” it continued, “when you leave this place, you will never return. So choose wisely. I will return when you have decided which path you want to take.”

Choice.

I drew in a slow breath, feeling the promise that bound me, that oath I had made to Meghan, dissolve. I’d kept my vow: I had found a way to return to her, to be at her side without fear. I was free.

And I had a choice.

I DIDN’T GO BACK to my room, though I vaguely remembered where it was. Instead, I sought out the courtyard, found a stone bench beneath a withered tree, and watched the stars float through the End of the World.

Mortal or faery? Right now I was nothing, balanced on the edge of humanity and soullessness, neither human nor fey. I was so close to having a soul, to finishing my quest and being with Meghan. But if the future the Guardian had shown me was true … if I was destined to die, forgotten and alone, then was it worth that pain?

I didn’t have to go back to the Iron Realm. My vow had been fulfilled; I was free to do as I wished. There was no guarantee Meghan would be waiting for me to come back, no assurance she wanted me to come back. I could return to the Winter Court, with Ariella. It could be as it was before ….

If that was what I really wanted.

“Hey.” Ariella’s soft voice broke through my musings, and she joined me on the bench, so close our shoulders were touching. “Puck told me about the last test, and the ceremony in the morning. I take it you haven’t come to a decision yet.” I shook my head, and her soft fingers brushed a curl from my forehead. “Why are you still agonizing, Ash?” she asked gently. “You’ve come so far. You know what you have to do. This is what you wanted.”

“I know.” I slumped forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “But, Ari, that last test …” Closing my eyes, I let the memories of another life wash over me. “I saw my future, with Meghan,” I said, opening my eyes to stare at my hands. “I became human and went back to the Iron Realm to be with her, just like I wanted. And, at first we were happy … I was happy. But then …” I trailed off, watching a blue comet soar lazily through the sky above. “She never changed,” I murmured at last. “She and my son, they never changed. And I … I couldn’t keep up with them. I couldn’t protect her, couldn’t fight beside her. And in the end, I was alone.”

Ariella was silent, watching me. I raked my hands through my hair with a sigh. “I want to be with them,” I admitted softly. “More than anything, I want to see them again. But, if that’s my future, if I can’t avoid what lies ahead …”

“You’re wrong,” Ariella said, surprising me. I sat up, blinking at her, and she smiled. “That’s a future, Ash. Only one. Trust a seer on this. Nothing is certain. The future is constantly changing, and no one can predict what will happen next. But let me ask you this. In this future, you said you had a son?”

I nodded, feeling a hollow ache in my chest at the thought of Kierran.

“Do you miss him?”

I let out a breath and nodded, slumping forward again. “It’s strange,” I murmured, feeling a lump rise to my throat. “He isn’t even real, and yet … I feel like he’s the one who died. His existence was an illusion, but I knew him. I remember everything about him. And Meghan.” The lump grew bigger, and I felt my eyes stinging, moisture crawling down my cheeks. I could see Kierran’s smile, feel Meghan’s breath against me as we slept. And though my head knew those memories were illusions, my heart violently rejected that thought. I knew them. Every part of them. I remembered their joys, their sorrows, their triumphs and hurts and fears. They were real to me.

“My family.” The admission was a mere whisper, and I covered my eyes with a hand. “Meghan, Kierran. I miss them … they were everything. I want them back.”

Ariella put a hand on my shoulder, easing me close. “And even if that future came to pass,” she murmured in my ear, “would you want to miss it? Would you change anything, knowing how it will end?”

I pulled back to look at her, realization slowly dawning on me as we gazed at each other. “No,” I muttered, surprising myself. Because all the hurt, all the pain and loneliness and watching everyone leave me behind was overshadowed by the joy and pride I felt for Kierran, the deep contentment in Meghan’s arms, and the blinding, all-encompassing love I had for my family.

And maybe, that was what being human was all about.

Ariella smiled back, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Then you know what you have to do.”

I pulled her close and gently kissed her forehead. “Thank you,” I whispered, though it was hard for me to say, and I could tell it surprised Ariella, as well. The fey never say thank-you, for fear it will put them in another’s debt. The old Ash would never have let such a phrase escape his lips; perhaps this was just a sign of how human I was becoming.

I stood, pulling her up with me. “I think I’m ready,” I said, gazing back at the castle. My heart beat faster in anticipation, but I wasn’t afraid. “I know what I have to do.”

“Then,” said the Guardian, appearing behind us, “let us not waste another moment. Have you made your decision, knight?”

I pulled away from Ariella and faced the Guardian squarely. “Yes.”

“And what have you decided?”

“My soul.” I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders as I said this. No more doubts. No more agonizing. I knew my path, what I had to do. “I choose humanity, and all that comes with it. Weakness, conscience, mortality, everything.”

The Guardian nodded. “Then we come to the end at last. And you will be the first to claim what you have always sought, knight. Follow me.”

PUCK JOINED US AT THE DOOR, and together we followed the Guardian down the shadowed hallways, up a twisting spiral staircase, to the landing of the highest tower. Through the door, the roof disappeared into open sky. Here, beneath the stars and constellations, where sparkling bits of moon rock drifted by, trailing silver dust, the Guardian walked to the center of the platform and turned, beckoning me with a pale hand.

“You have endured all the trials,” it said as I stepped forward. “You have accepted what it means to be human, to be mortal, and without that knowledge a soul could not live within you for long. You have passed, knight. You are ready.

“But,” the Guardian continued in a solemn voice as my gut twisted nervously, “something as pure as soul cannot grow out of nothing. One final sacrifice remains, though it is not yours to make. For a soul to be born within you, a life must be given, freely and without reservation. With this unselfish act, a soul can bloom from the sacrifice of one who loves you. Without it, you will remain empty.”

For a split second of blissful ignorance, the true meaning of what the Guardian said escaped me. Then the realization hit all at once, and an icy fist gripped my heart, leaving me numb. I stared at the Guardian for several heartbeats, horror slowly turning to anger. “Someone has to die for me,” I whispered at last. The Guardian didn’t move, and I felt a gaping hole tear open within, dropping me into blackness. “Then all this was for nothing. Everything you threw at me, all I went through, was for nothing!” Despair now joined the swirl of rage. I’d been through so much, endured so much, just to throw it away in the end. But this was something I could not allow. “Never,” I gritted out, backing away. “I’ll never let that happen.”

“It’s not your sacrifice to make, Ash.”

Stunned, I turned as Ariella walked past me, coming to stand before the Guardian. Her voice trembled a bit, but she held her head high. “I’m here,” she murmured. “He has me. I’m willing to make that choice.”

“Ari,” Puck breathed behind me.

No! I staggered toward her, panicked by what she was offering. My chest clenched in horror, in helpless desperation. It was the same feeling I’d had when I saw the wyvern strike her in the heart, when she lay dying in my arms, and I could only watch as she slipped away. This, I could stop. This, I would stop. “Ari, no,” I rasped, stepping in front of her. “You can’t do this! If you die again …”

“This is why I’m here, Ash.” Tears filled her eyes as she turned to look at me, though she still tried to smile. “This is why I came. I was returned to life for this moment, my final task, before Faery takes me back.”

“I won’t accept that!” Desperately, I grabbed her arm, and she made no move to pull away. The Guardian watched us, silent and unmoving, as I faced her, pleading. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. “Don’t throw your life away. Not for me. Not again.”

Ariella shook her head. “I’m tired, Ash,” she murmured, gazing right through me, at something I couldn’t see. “It’s been … long enough.”

Behind me, Puck blew out a shaky breath, and I hoped he would protest as well, keep her from this insane plan. But Robin Goodfellow surprised me again, his voice subdued but calm. “I’m glad I got to see you again, Ari,” he said, and from the tremor beneath the surface, I could tell he was holding back tears. “And don’t worry—I’ll take care of him for you.”

“You were a good friend, Puck.” Ariella smiled at him, though her eyes were shadowed, far away. “I’m happy I could give you two another chance.”

Feeling betrayed, I gripped her shoulders, hard enough to make her wince, though she still didn’t look at me. “I won’t let you go,” I snarled, though my voice was beginning to crack. “You can’t do this. I’ll keep you alive by force if I have to!”

“Prince.” Grimalkin’s cool, stern voice broke through my desperation. The word lanced into me, shimmering with power, compelling me to listen, to obey. I closed my eyes, fighting the compulsion, feeling my panic grow. The cait sith was calling in his favor.

“Don’t, Grimalkin.” My words were a hoarse rasp through gritted teeth. “I will kill you if you order me, I swear I will.”

“I would not force you,” Grimalkin said in that same quiet, calm voice. “But this is not your decision, prince. It is hers. All I ask is that you let her make that choice. Let her choose her own path, as you have done.”

My composure broke. I fell to my knees with a sob, clutching at Ariella’s dress, bowing my head. “Please,” I choked, tears streaming down my face. “Ari, please. I’m begging you, don’t go. I can’t watch you die again.”

“I was already gone, Ash.” Ariella’s voice shook, too, her hand resting against the back of my head. “All we had was borrowed time.” I sobbed, kneeling before her, as her fingers stroked my hair. “Let me do this,” Ariella murmured. Her fingers slipped under my jaw, gently turning my face to hers. “Let me go.”

I couldn’t speak. Shaking, nearly blinded by tears, I let my hands fall to my lap. Ariella pulled away, but her palm lingered against my cheek for a silent moment. I caught the tips of her fingers at the end, felt them slip from my grasp. “Remember me,” she whispered.

Then she turned and stepped toward the Guardian, who raised a hand to guide her forward. “It will not take long,” it said, and I thought I heard a note of admiration in the impassive voice. Ariella nodded, taking a shaky breath as the Guardian raised a hand to her forehead, brushing back her silver hair.

“Will it hurt?” she whispered, so faint I barely caught it. The Guardian shook its cowled head.

“No,” it said gently, and a light began to form under its fingers, growing brighter with each passing second. “There will be no pain, Ariella Tularyn. Never again. Close your eyes.”

She glanced at me. For a moment, she looked exactly as she had when I first met her, unbowed by sorrow, her eyes shining with joy. She smiled, a real smile of love and happiness and forgiveness, and then the light grew too bright to look at and I had to turn away.

Deep within me, something stirred. The darkness that I’d kept locked away, the part of me that was all Unseelie: hate, violence and black rage, rushed to the surface with a roar, seeking to overwhelm me. But it was met by something bright and pure and intense, a miasma of light that seared away the darkness, filling every corner and expanding outward, until there was no place left for the blackness to hide. I shivered, reeling from the flood of light and color and emotion, not knowing how empty I had been until that moment.

The brightness faded. I was kneeling on an empty platform at the End of the World, moondust and rock swirling around me. The Guardian stood a few feet away, alone, leaning on its staff as if winded.

Ariella was gone.

The Guardian straightened, gazing at me through the darkness of its cowl. “Take a few moments for your grief,” it said, cold and formal once more. “When you are ready, meet me at the gates of the Testing Grounds. I have one last thing to give you before we part.”

I barely noticed when the Guardian left. Numbly, I gazed at the spot where Ariella had stood seconds before. Grimalkin had also disappeared, the parapet that held him empty and bare, as if he’d cleared out the second the ceremony was finished.

I tried to be angry at the cat, but it was futile. Even if he hadn’t come, Ariella would still have made her decision. I knew her well enough to know she would’ve found a way. I couldn’t muster any rage through the numbing grief weighing me down like a heavy blanket. Ariella was gone. She was gone. I had let her go, again.

A presence stepped up beside me, but it wasn’t the Guardian. “It wasn’t your fault, Ash,” Puck said quietly. “It never was. She made her choice a long time ago.”

I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. Puck sighed, crouching next to me, gazing around the tower. “I don’t know about you,” he said, completely serious, “but I’m about ready to go home. Let’s get Furball, check to see if the Wolf is still alive, and get out of here.”

“Yeah,” I muttered without getting up. “Just … give me a few minutes.”

“Right,” Puck said, and I expected him to leave. He didn’t, but settled on the ground beside me, crossing his long legs. And we gazed at the spot where Ariella had smiled at me and disappeared in a brilliant burst of light, as fitting an end as I could think of. After a moment, Puck put a hand on my shoulder.

This time, I didn’t brush it off.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO THE RETURN

Puck and I didn’t speak as we walked through the empty, dark corridors of the Testing Grounds together, lost in our own thoughts. I glanced over once and saw him hastily wipe his eyes before quickly turning a corner. The hallways seemed emptier now, the shadows deeper, as we navigated the halls with one less than when we had started out.

Ariella was gone. I didn’t know how she’d done it, accompanying us, helping us, knowing all along that she wasn’t coming back. This was twice I had lost her, twice I’d been forced to watch her die. But at least she had chosen her path this time. She had made her choice long ago, and if Faery brought her back, then surely it would not let her disappear as if she had never existed. A life as bright as hers must linger on somewhere; Ariella Tularyn was far too loved and cherished to simply fade away and be forgotten. It was a small comfort, but I clung to it with my remaining composure and hoped that, wherever she was, whatever state she existed in, she was happy.

Outside, the tall figure of the Guardian waited at the bridge, the stars and the dark, hazy outline of the distant Briars floating behind him.

“This is where we part,” it announced as we joined it at the edge. “Your quest is finished, knight, your journey complete. You will not see me, or the End of the World, ever again. Nor will you remember the path you took to get here. But, as you are the first to earn your soul and survive, I offer you one last gift for the journey home.”

It extended an arm, dropping something small and glittering into my palm. It was a globe of darkened crystal, about the size of an orange, the glass fragile and warm against my skin.

“When you are ready,” the Guardian said, “break the globe, and you will be transported out of Faery, back to the human world. From there, you may do as you wish.”

“Back to the human world?” Puck peered over my shoulder at the glass. “That’s kind of out of the way. Can’t you give us something that will take us to the wyldwood or Arcadia?”

“It does not work that way, Robin Goodfellow,” the Guardian said, speaking to him for perhaps the very first time. “You may choose to return to the wyldwood the way you came, but it is a long way up the River of Dreams, and you will not have the ferry to protect you.”

“It’s all right,” I told Puck, before he could argue. “I can get to the Iron Realm through the mortal world. If … you can open a trod for me, that is.”

Puck glanced at me, understanding in his eyes, and nodded. “Sure, ice-boy. Not a problem.”

“But,” I added, looking at the Guardian, “there’s one more thing we have to check on before we leave. We left a friend behind at the temple when we came here. Is he still there? Can we save him?”

The Guardian straightened. “The Wolf,” it said. “Yes, he is still alive, though his spark has grown weak. He remains trapped beneath the door, and you will have to free him before you can take him to the mortal world with you.”

“You can’t open the door?” Puck asked, scowling.

“The gauntlet was never closed,” the Guardian said flatly. “As long as your friend remains in the door, keeping it open, the gateway is still in effect. The door must seal completely before it can be opened once more.”

“I suggest you hurry,” Grimalkin said, appearing on a floating rock near the edge, watching us disdainfully. “If you insist on helping the dog, do it quickly so that we may go. I, for one, would like to get home sometime this century.”

Home, I thought with a sharp longing in my chest. Yes, it was time to go home. It had been too long. Was Meghan still waiting for me? Or, as she’d suggested in the dream, had she moved on, found happiness with someone else? Would I return only to find her in the arms of another? Or, even worse, as a terrible fey queen like Mab, unmerciful in her power, ruling through fear?

I was afraid, I could admit that. I didn’t know what waited for me at the end of my quest. But despite what I might find, even if Meghan had forgotten me, I would return to her, no matter what.

“Knight,” the Guardian said as we started to cross the bridge. Puck looked back, and I waved him on. He made a face and left us. “Do not discount the gift you have been given,” the Guardian continued in a low voice, as Puck followed Grimalkin over the bridge. “The soul of a Winter fey resides within you. You are no longer part of Faery, but neither are you completely mortal. You are … unique.” The Guardian drew back, the faintest hint of amusement beneath its impassive voice. “We shall have to see where it takes you.”

I bowed to the robed figure and crossed the bridge, feeling ancient eyes on me the whole way. When I reached the other side and turned back, however, the Guardian was gone. The enormous bulk of the Testing Grounds was floating away, growing rapidly smaller and less distinct, until it vanished into the End of the World.

Following Grimalkin down the corridor back to the temple, we reached the heavy stone door of the gauntlet. For a moment, I feared we were too late. The Wolf lay in the doorway, unmoving, his huge head resting on his paws. Bloody foam spattered his mouth and nostrils, his fur was dull and flat and his ribs stood out sharply against his black pelt. Through the opening, the spirits still clawed at him, trying to drag him back into the temple, lost and trapped forever. But even collapsed and apparently lifeless, he was still as unmovable as a mountain.

“Pity,” Grimalkin remarked as we drew close. “Not the end I would imagine for the Big Bad Wolf, crushed under a door, but I suppose he is not invincible after all.”

The Wolf’s eyes opened, blazing green. Seeing us, he gave a feeble cough and raised his head from his paws, staring at me. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth.

“So, you made it after all,” he stated. “I suppose I should congratulate you, but I find I care very little at the moment.” He panted, his eyes flickering between me, Puck and Grim, and pricked his ears. “Where’s the girl?”

Puck looked away, and I took a breath, raking a hand through my hair. “She’s gone.”

The Wolf nodded, unsurprised. “Then, if you wish to leave by this route, I’m sure you can slide under the stone. These spirits are annoying, but they should not pose a problem anymore.”

“What about you?”

The Wolf sighed, resting his head on his paws again. “I have no strength left.” Closing his eyes, he shifted painfully on the rocks. “Nor do you have the strength to move this door. Leave me.”

I clenched my fists. The memory of Ariella’s sacrifice was still a painful burning in my chest. “No,” I said, making the Wolf crack open an eyelid. “I’ve already watched one friend die today. I will not lose another. Puck …” I stepped forward and put my shoulder against the bottom of the slab. “Come on. Help me move this.”

Puck looked dubious, but he stepped up and braced himself against the rock, wincing as he tested it. “Oof, are you sure about this, ice-boy? I mean, you’re human now….”

He trailed off at the look on my face. “Right, then. On three? Hey, Wolfman, you’re gonna help out, too, right?”

“You cannot free me,” the Wolf said, eyeing each of us in turn. “You are not strong enough. Especially if the prince is a mere mortal.”

“How very sad.” Grimalkin strode up, stopping just shy of the Wolf’s muzzle, barely out of snapping range. “That the great dog must rely on a human to save him, because he is too weak to move. I shall sit right here and watch, to remember this day always.”

The Wolf growled, the hair rising along his back. Planting his feet, he braced his shoulders against the slab and tensed, baring his fangs. “Go.”

We pushed. The stone resisted us, stubborn and unmovable. Even with the combined efforts of Puck and the exhausted Wolf, it was too heavy, too massive, for the three of us to move.

“This isn’t working, prince,” Puck said through gritted teeth, his face red from the strain. I ignored him, digging my shoulder into the rocky slab, pushing with all my might. It scraped painfully into my skin, but didn’t move. On instinct, I opened myself up to the glamour around me, forgetting I was only human.

I felt a shiver go through the air, a rush of cold and suddenly, the slab moved. Only a fraction of an inch, but we all felt it. Puck’s eyes widened, and he threw himself against the rock, pushing with all his might, as the Wolf did the same. The spirits shrieked and wailed, clawing at the Wolf as if sensing he was slipping from their grasp. Closing my eyes, I kept myself open to the cold, familiar strength flowing through me and shoved the stone block as hard as I could.

With a final, stubborn groan, the slab gave way at last, rising a mere few inches, but it was enough. The Wolf gave a snarl of triumph and skittered out from beneath it, ripping himself from the grasp of the spirits still clinging to him, leaving them in the doorway. Puck and I jerked back as well, and the door slammed shut with a hollow boom, crushing a few spirits into mist.

Panting, the Wolf staggered to his feet, then gave himself a violent shake, sending fur and dust flying. Glancing at me, he gave a grudging nod.

“For a mortal,” he growled, heaving in great, raspy breaths, “you are remarkably strong. Almost as strong as …” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sure you received what you came for, little prince? It would be annoying if we came all this way for nothing.” Before I could answer, he sniffed the air, nose twitching. “No, your scent is different. You are different. You do not smell like you did before, but neither do you smell … entirely human.” Flattening his ears, he growled again and stepped back. “What are you?”

“I’m … not really sure myself.”

“Well.” The Wolf shook himself again, seeming to grow a bit more steady on his feet. “Whatever you are, you did not leave me behind, and I will not forget that. If you are in need of a hunter or someone to crush your enemy’s throat, you have only to call. Now …” He sneezed and bared his fangs, glaring around. “Where is that wretched feline?”

Grimalkin, of course, had disappeared. The Wolf snorted in disgust and began to stalk away, but with a shiver and a loud grinding noise, the stone door started to rise.

We tensed, and I dropped a hand to my sword, but the spirits on the other side of the door had disappeared. So had the entire room. Instead, a long, narrow hallway stretched out beyond the frame, empty and dark, fading into the black. The cobwebs lining the walls and the dust on the floor were thick and undisturbed, as if no one had walked this way in centuries.

The Wolf blinked slowly. “Magic and parlor tricks.” He sighed, curling a lip. “I will be glad to be done with it. At least in my territory, things are honest about trying to kill you.” He shook his great, shaggy head and turned to me. “This is where we part ways, prince. Do not forget my part in the story. I might have to hunt you down if you happen to forget, and I have a very long memory.”

“It’s a long way back to the wyldwood,” I told him, pulling out the small glass orb. The swirls of magic within left faint, tingling sensations against my palm as I held it up. “Come with us. We’ll return to the mortal realm, and from there you can easily find a trod to the Nevernever.”

“The mortal world.” The Wolf sniffed and backed up a step. “No, little prince. The human realm is not for me. It is too crowded, too fenced in. I need the vast spaces of the Deep Wyld or I shall quickly suffocate. No, this is where we say goodbye. I wish you luck, though. It was quite the adventure.” The Wolf padded toward the dark, empty hallway, a lean black shadow that seemed to fade into the dark.

“You sure, Wolfman?” Puck called as the Wolf paused in the frame, sniffing the air for any remaining foes. “Like iceboy said, it’s a long way back to the wyldwood. You sure you don’t want a faster way home?”

The Wolf looked back at us and chuckled, flashing a toothy grin. “I am home,” he said simply, and bounded through the door, melting into shadow. His eerie howl rose into the air, as the Big Bad Wolf vanished from our lives and returned to legend.

Grimalkin appeared almost immediately after the Wolf had gone, licking his paws as if nothing had happened. “So,” he mused, regarding me with golden, half-lidded eyes, “are we returning to the mortal realm or not?”

I raised the globe but then lowered it, gazing at the cait sith, who stared back calmly. “Did you know?” I asked in a low voice, and the cat blinked. “Did you know the reason Ariella was here? Why she came along?” Grimalkin turned to groom his tail, and my voice hardened. “You knew she was going to die.”

“She was already dead, prince.” Grimalkin paused and looked back at me, narrowing his eyes. “She perished the day you swore your oath against Goodfellow. Faery brought her back, but she always knew how it would end.”

“You could have told us,” Puck chimed in, his voice flat and strangely subdued.

Grimalkin sneezed and sat up to face me, his golden eyes knowing. “If I had, would you have let her go?”

Neither of us answered, and the cat nodded at our silence. “We are wasting time,” he continued, waving his tail as he stood. “Let us return to the mortal world so that we may be done with this. Grieve for your loss, but be grateful for the time that you had. She would have wanted it that way.” He sniffed and lashed his tail. “Now, are you going to use that globe, or should I wish for wings to fly back to the wyldwood?”

I sighed and raised the glass, watching the magic swirl within. Taking it in both hands, I gazed past it to the End of the World, at the brilliant void that never ceased to amaze. With a deep breath, I brought my hands together and crushed the glass between them, releasing the magic into the air. It expanded outward in a burst of light, engulfing us, and for a moment everything went completely white.

THE LIGHT FADED, and the sounds of the human world began: car engines and street traffic, honking horns and the shuffle of feet over pavement. I blinked and gazed around, trying to get my bearings. We were in a narrow alleyway between two large buildings, overflowing Dumpsters and heaps of trash lining the walls. A ragged lump in a cardboard box stirred, mumbled sleepily, and turned its back on us, frightening a large rat that went scurrying over the wall.

“Oh, of course.” Puck wrinkled his nose, stepping back from a pile of rags crawling with maggots. “With all the meadows and forests and big swaths of wilderness that I know still exist in the human world, where do we end up? A filthy, rat-infested alleyway. That’s just great.”

Grimalkin leaped atop a Dumpster, looking surprisingly natural in the urban environment, like a large alley cat prowling the streets. “There is a trod not far from here,” he stated calmly, picking his way across the rim. “If we hurry, we should reach it before nightfall. Follow me.”

“Wait, you already know where you are?” Puck demanded as we edged toward the mouth of the alley, stepping over trash and piles of debris. “How does that work, cat?”

“Most cities are very much the same, Goodfellow.” Grimalkin reached the edge of the sidewalk and peered back, waving his tail. “Trods are everywhere, if you know where to look. Also, I am a cat.” And he trotted off down the street.

“Hold it, ice-boy,” Puck said as I started to follow. “You’re forgetting something.” He pointed to my sword, hanging at my side. “Normal humans don’t walk around city streets with big, pointy weapons. Or if they do, they tend to draw unwanted attention. Better give it to me for now. At least until we reach the wyldwood.”

I hesitated, and Puck rolled his eyes. “I swear I’m not going to lose it, or drop it in the gutter, or give it to a homeless guy. Come on, Ash. This is part of being human. You have to blend in.”

I handed the belt and sheath over reluctantly, and Puck looped it around one shoulder. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“If you lose that …”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll kill me. Old news, ice-boy.” Puck shook his head and motioned me forward. “After you.”

We emerged from the alleyway onto a sidewalk bustling with people, rushing by with barely a glance. Overhead, huge towers of glass and steel loomed against the sky, flashing in the evening sun. Cars honked and slid through the streams of traffic like giant metal fish, and the smell of asphalt, smoke, and exhaust fumes hung thick on the air.

The changes were subtle, but I could still see a difference. The world wasn’t quite as sharp as it had been. Edges were dull, colors not quite so bright anymore. Sounds were muted; the murmur of voices around me had merged into a babble of human noise, and I could no longer pick out conversations just by listening to them.

I took a step forward, and someone ran into me, knocking me back a pace. “Watch where you’re going, jackass,” the human snapped, shooting me a glare without breaking stride. I blinked and joined the flow of street traffic, following Grimalkin as he expertly wove his way through the multitude of feet and swinging legs. No one seemed to notice him, or Puck, walking right beside me, glamoured and invisible. Even on a crowded sidewalk, they swerved around him or stepped out of his way, often at the last second, without even knowing there was a faery in their midst. But I caught several glances—curious, appreciative, or challenging—as I maneuvered my way through the crowd, jostling and bumping into me. It was a good thing Puck still had my sword; otherwise I might’ve been tempted to draw it to get them all out of my way.

As I swerved out of the path of yet another human, I brushed against a wrought-iron fence encircling the base of a small tree on the edge of the sidewalk and instinctively recoiled, jerking back from the metal. But the weakness and pain of being so close to iron didn’t come, though I did earn a few strange looks from various passersby. Cautiously, I reached out and touched the fence, ready to yank my hand back as centuries of fey survival screamed at me to stop. But the iron, once akin, for me, to touching live coals while being violently ill, was cold and harmless beneath my fingers. I looked up the street at the long line of trees similarly encased in iron, and grinned.

“Will you stop doing that?” Puck hissed a moment later, shuddering as I trailed my fingers along every fence that we passed. “You’re freaking me out. I get chills every time we pass one of those things.”

I laughed but moved away from the fences and the iron, back to the center of the walk where traffic was thickest. Now that I knew they wouldn’t just swerve around me, it was easier to dodge and weave through the unending masses. “Does this mean I can put a fence around my yard and you’ll leave me alone?” I asked, grinning back at Puck. He snorted.

“Don’t get cocky, ice-boy. I’ve been playing with humans since long before you ever thought of becoming one.”

The crowds thinned as it got later, and Grimalkin led us farther downtown. Streetlights flickered to life, and the buildings lining the streets grew more run-down and shabby. Broken windows and graffiti were commonplace, and I could sense eyes on me from shadows and dark corridors.

“That’s a fancy jacket, boy.”

I stopped as four humans melted out of an alley, wearing hoodies and bandannas, sidling up to block my path. The biggest, a mean-looking thug with a shaved head covered in tattoos, sauntered forward, leering at me. I gave him and his companions a quick once-over, searching for horns or claws or sharp, pointed teeth. Nothing. Not half-breeds, then. Not exiles from the Nevernever, scraping out a living in the mortal world. They were human through and through.

“My boy Rico here. He was just thinking that he needed a fancy coat like that one.” The thug leader smiled, showing off a gold tooth. “So, why don’t you hand it over, boy? That, and leave your wallet on the ground, too. Wouldn’t want to have to bash your pretty head in, now, would we?”

Beside me, Puck sighed, shaking his head. “Not terribly bright, are they?” he asked, gazing at the leader, who paid him no attention. Stepping away, he slipped around behind them, grinning and cracking his knuckles. “I guess we have time for one last massacre. For old time’s sake.”

“Hey, you deaf, punk?” The thug leader shoved me, and I took a step back. “Or are you so scared you pissed your pants?” The others snickered and drew forward, surrounding me like hungry dogs. I didn’t move. There was a flash of metal, and the leader brandished a knife, holding it before my face. “I’ll ask nicely one last time. Gimme that coat, or I’m gonna start feeding you your fingers.”

I met his eyes. “We don’t have to do this,” I told him softly. Behind them, Puck smiled wickedly, tensing his muscles. “You can still walk away. In eight seconds, you’re not going to be able to.”

He raised an eyebrow, ran a tongue over his teeth. “Fine,” he nodded. “We’ll do this the hard way.” And he slashed at my face.

I jerked back, letting the blade whiz by my cheek, then stepped forward and slammed a fist into the leader’s nose, feeling it break under my fingers. He reeled back with a shriek, and I whirled toward the second thug, who was lunging at me from the side.

Time seemed to slow. In my peripheral vision, I saw Puck loom up behind the two remaining thugs and knock their heads together, dropping his glamour as they staggered and turned around. His mocking laughter rang out over the howls and curses of his opponents. I dodged the knife of my second foe and kicked him in the knee, hearing it snap as he crashed to the ground.

The thug leader was still bent over, holding his nose. Suddenly he circled, dropping the knife, reaching for something at the small of his back. I lunged forward as he brought up the gun, a dull black pistol, catching the inside of his wrist just as a roar of gunfire nearly deafened me. A twist, a snap, and the thug screamed, the deadly weapon clattering to the ground. Slamming him into a wall, I put my arm to his throat and shoved hard, seeing his eyes widen and his mouth gape for air. My adrenaline was up; my ears rang from the gunfire, and the sudden brush with death made my soul cry out for blood. This human had tried to kill me. He deserved no less himself. I leaned harder against his throat, intending to crush his windpipe, watching as his face turned blue and his eyes started to roll up in his head ….

And then, I stopped.

I wasn’t fey any longer. I was no longer Ash, prince of the Unseelie Court, ruthless and unmerciful. If I killed this human, I would only be adding his death to my long list of sins, only this time, I had a soul that could be tainted by needless killing and bloodshed.

Releasing the pressure on the thug’s neck, I stepped back and let him slump, gasping, to the cement. A quick glance in Puck’s direction showed the red-haired fey surrounded by two moaning humans, cradling their heads, while Puck looked on smugly. Satisfied, I turned back to the leader. “Get out of here,” I said quietly. “Go home. If I see you again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Cradling his broken wrist, the thug fled, his three companions limping after him. I watched them until they disappeared around a corner, then turned back to Puck.

He grinned, rubbing a hand over his knuckles. “Well, that was fun. Nothing like a good bare-fisted, knock-down, drag-out brawl to get the blood pumping. Though I will admit, I thought you were gonna kill the guy after he shot at you. You feeling all right, ice-boy?”

“I’m fine.” I looked at my hands, still feeling the human’s blood pumping under my fingers, knowing I could’ve ended his life, and smiled. “Never better.”

“Then, if you two are quite finished starting random brawls in the middle of the street—” Grimalkin appeared on the hood of a car, staring at us reproachfully. “Perhaps we can move on.”

He led us down another long alley, until we came to a faded red door in the bricks. Beside the door, a sign on a barred, grimy window read, Rudy’s Pawn Shop. Guns. Gold. Other. A brass bell tinkled as we pushed our way inside, revealing a tiny shop crammed floor to ceiling with junk. Stereos sat on dusty shelves next to racks of televisions, car radios and speakers. One whole wall was dedicated to guns, protected by high counters and a blinking security camera. Racks of video games were displayed prominently, and a glass case near the front sparkled with a fortune’s worth of gold: necklaces, rings, and belt buckles.

A lone, pudgy figure was leaning against the glass case, playing solitaire and looking bored, but he glanced up when we came in. Pale ram’s horns curled back from the sides of his head, and his arms, gathering up the cards, were exceptionally shaggy. For a human, anyway, but not for a satyr. Or a half satyr, I realized as we drew closer. He wore a stained T-shirt and tan shorts, and his skinny legs, though hairy, were decidedly human.

“Be right with ya,” he grunted as we approached the counter. “Just gimme a second to—” He stopped, really looking at us. Puck grinned at him, and he paled, breathing out an expletive. “Oh. Oh, sorry your … ah … your royalness? I didn’t realize … I don’t get many full-bloods through here. I mean …” He swallowed, going even paler as Puck continued to smile at him, obviously enjoying himself. “What can I do for you today, sir?”

“Hello, Rudy.” Grimalkin leaped onto the counter, and the half satyr yelped, stumbling back. “I see you are still limping along with this fire hazard you call a store.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Rudy gave the cat a sour look, grabbing a cloth from below and wiping the countertop. “Look who’s here. Back to plague me again, are you? You know that information you traded nearly got me killed?”

“You wanted the location of the giant ruins. I gave it to you. My end of the bargain was upheld.”

“I thought they were deserted! You didn’t say they were still occupied.”

“You did not ask if they were.”

While they were talking, I took the moment to look around the store, fascinated by all the mortal items hanging on racks and from the shelves. I knew what they were, of course, but this was the first time I could really touch them without fearing the burn of metal. Wandering behind the weapons counter, I gazed at all the different guns and firearms lining the walls. So many different types. There was so much I didn’t know about the mortal world. I would have to remedy that soon.

Grimalkin sniffed, his voice drifting back from the counter. “If one is going to go traipsing around ancient giant ruins hunting for treasure, one should first make sure they are abandoned. In any case, it matters not. I believe we still have unfinished business.”

“Fine.” Rudy waved his arm dismissively. “Fine, let’s get it over with. I assume you want something from the back, is that it? Hey!” he yelped suddenly, as I grabbed a pistol from the rack of guns, the same kind that had been fired at me before. “Careful with that! Geez, since when can faeries handle guns, anyway?”

“Ice-boy.” Puck grimaced at me, looking nervous. “Come on. Let’s not freak out the nice gun dealer. We’re almost home.”

I replaced the gun and walked back to the front, where Rudy eyed me suspiciously. “Uh, right. So, you need something from the ‘special room,’ is that it? I’ve got monkey paws and hydra poison and a pair of cockatrice eggs came in yesterday—”

“Spare us your dealings with the goblin market,” Grimalkin interrupted. “We need to use the door to the wyldwood.”

“Door?” Rudy swallowed, looking at each of us in turn. “I, uh, don’t know of any door.”

“Liar,” Grimalkin stated, narrowing his eyes. “Do not seek to deceive us, half-breed. Who do you think you are speaking to?”

“It’s just …” Rudy lowered his voice. “I’m not supposed to have direct access to the Nevernever,” he admitted. “You know how the courts are. If they find out that a stinkin’ half-breed owns a trod, they’ll turn me into a goat and feed me to the redcaps.”

“You owe me,” Grimalkin said bluntly. “I am collecting that debt now. Either give us access to the trod, or I will turn Robin Goodfellow loose in your store and then we will see how much of it is left to protect.”

“Goodfellow?” Rudy’s face turned the color of old glue. He glanced at Puck, who grinned and waved cheerfully. “S-sure,” he whispered, moving away from the counter in a daze. “Follow me.”

He unlocked a door and led us into an even smaller, more crowded room. Here, the merchandise lining the walls and piled in corners was even stranger than the stock outside, but more familiar to me. Basilisk fangs and wyvern stingers. Glowing potions and toadstools of every color. A huge tome of puckered flesh rested beneath a headdress made of griffin feathers. Rudy maneuvered through the clutter, kicking things out of the way, until he came to the back wall and pushed back a curtain. A simple wooden door stood on the other side.

“Open it,” Grimalkin ordered.

Sighing, Rudy unlocked the door and pushed it open. A cold breeze, smelling of earth and crushed leaves, fluttered into the small room, and the gray, murky expanse of the wyldwood came into view through the frame.

Puck blew out a long breath. “There she is.” He sighed, sounding wistful. “Never thought I’d be so happy to see her again.”

Grimalkin was already through the door, tail held straight up as he vanished into the mist. “Hey,” Rudy called, frowning through the doorway. “No more favors, okay, cat? We’re even now, right?” He sighed and eyed us as we started to follow. “I, uh, I’d appreciate it if this didn’t get out, your highnesses. Seeing as I helped you and all … uh …” He trailed off as Puck gave him an appraising look in the door. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

“I don’t know.” Puck frowned and crossed his arms. “Didn’t you hear Oberon saying something about a certain pawnshop, ice-boy? And redcaps? Or was that something else?”

Rudy looked faint, until Puck slapped him on the shoulder with a laugh, making him jump three feet in the air. “You’re a good guy.” He grinned, walking backward through the frame. “I might come back to visit someday. Hurry up, prince.”

“Prince?” The half satyr blinked as I stepped forward. “Robin Goodfellow and a prince, come to my shop?” He stared hard at me, then his eyebrows shot up as something clicked into place. “Then … you must be … are you Prince Ash?”

The wyldwood breeze was cool against my face. I paused in the doorway and glanced over my shoulder, giving my head a small shake.

“No,” I told him, and walked through the door. “I’m not.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE THE IRON KNIGHT

The wyldwood was exactly as I remembered it—gray, dark, misty, with huge trees blocking out the sky—and yet, it was vastly different. I used to be a part of this world, part of the magic and the energy that flowed through all living creatures in the Nevernever. I wasn’t now. I was apart, separate. An intruder.

But now that I was back in the Nevernever, I could feel the glamour swirling within me, familiar and strange at the same time. Winter glamour, but different. As if … as if it wasn’t my magic anymore, but I could still reach it, still use it. Perhaps it was part of this soul I had gained, the part that Ariella had given up, freely and without reservation. And, if that was true, then in some small way, she was still with me.

I found that thought very comforting.

“So.” Grimalkin appeared out of the mist, jumping onto a fallen log, his plumed tail waving behind him. “Here we are at last. I trust the two of you can manage the rest of the way without me?”

“Running off again, cat?” Puck crossed his arms, but his grin was an affectionate one. “And here I was just getting used to having you around.”

“I cannot look over your shoulder every step of the way, Goodfellow,” Grimalkin replied in a bored tone. “It was a good adventure, but now it is done. And, as difficult as it is to believe, I have things of my own to attend to.”

“Yeah, that nap must be terribly pressing. How do you survive?”

Grimalkin ignored him this time, turning to me. “Farewell, knight,” he said formally, startling me with the term he’d never used before. “I wish you luck on your journey, for I fear it will not be easy. But you have been through much, more than anyone could reasonably have hoped to survive. I suspect you will be all right in the end.”

I bowed to the cat, who blinked but seemed pleased with the gesture. “Couldn’t have done it without you, Grim,” I said quietly, and he sniffed.

“Of course not,” he replied, as if it were obvious. “Give the Iron Queen my regards, but tell her not to call on me too soon. I find pulling you both out of sticky situations increasingly tiresome.”

Something rustled in the bushes a few yards away, drawing my attention for a split second. When I glanced back at the log, Grimalkin was gone.

Puck sighed. “Cat sure knows how to make an exit,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Well, come on, ice-boy. Let’s get you to the Iron Realm. You’re not getting any younger.”

THE JOURNEY TOOK US TWO DAYS, mostly due to the goblin border skirmish we ran into in the Gnashwood. Because, as nothing ever came easily in the wyldwood, the goblin tribes were at war again and were even more intolerant of trespassers through their territory. Puck and I had to flee from several angry war parties, eventually fighting our way through the lines to reach the outskirts of goblin lands. For a while, it was like old times again, the two of us, fighting side by side against much greater odds. My body felt like my own again, my sword fluid and natural in my hands. A poisoned goblin arrow hit me once in the thigh, and I spent an evening in pain trying to stave off the effects, but I was able to shake it off by morning and continue.

But despite the thrill of battle and the excitement of simply being alive, I was anxious to get to the Iron Realm. I could feel the seconds ticking away, like grains falling through the hourglass, each day that brought me closer to my inevitable end. Whether it was an ordinary mortal life span, or if I was still faery enough to slow the advance of time, I wanted to spend the days I had left with Meghan. With my family.

The last night before we reached the border of the Iron Realm, Puck and I camped on the edge of a small lake, having finally escaped the Gnashwood and the territory of angry, bloodthirsty goblins. We were so close—I could feel it, and it was difficult for me to relax, much to Puck’s amusement. I finally dozed, leaning back against a tree, facing the water.

Sometime during the night, I dreamed. Ariella stood on the banks of the water smiling at me, her silver hair glowing in the starlight. She didn’t speak, and I didn’t say anything, having no voice in this dream, but I think she wanted me to know that she was happy. That her quest was fulfilled, and that I could finally let her go. I could put her memory to rest at last. I woke with blurry eyes and an ache in my chest, but for the first time since that fateful day, I felt lighter. I would never forget her, but I no longer felt guilty that I had moved on, that I could be happy with someone else. I finally knew that’s what she would want.

At last, forty-eight human hours after we’d entered the wyldwood, Puck and I stood at the edge of the Iron Realm, gazing at the metal trees stretching to either side as far as one could see. It seemed the Nevernever itself had done its best to separate from the Iron Kingdom, for a great chasm ran between the wyldwood and the Iron Queen’s territory, the earth having fallen away. A wooden bridge had been hastily constructed to span the gulf, but the wyldwood was slowly attempting to destroy that as well, for vines and weeds were already wrapped about the planks, as if trying to drag it down.

Puck and I stopped at the edge of the bridge. “Well, here we are.” The Summer jester sighed, scrubbing the back of his head while eyeing the forest. “Home sweet home for you, iceboy, strange as it is to think about that. Sure you can make it to Mag Tuiredh on your own? I really don’t know where it’s located from here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, gazing into the glimmering forest of steel. Not long ago, the sight of it had made my stomach recoil. Now it churned with excitement. “I’ll find it.”

“Yeah, I’ve no doubt you will.” Puck sighed, crossing his arms. “Anyway, you probably won’t see me for a while, iceboy. The thought of returning to Summer just isn’t as appealing as it once was. Maybe it’s time for a road trip.” He flung out his arms dramatically. “The wind in my face, the open road stretching out before me, excitement and adventure just around the next bend.”

“Huh.” I eyed him shrewdly. “Oberon didn’t give you permission to go tromping through the Deep Wyld with me, did he?”

“Not so much.” Puck grimaced. “Anyway, I think it’s time for a vacation, let Lord Pointy Ears cool down for a bit. Give Meghan a hug for me, will ya? Maybe I’ll see you both in a few decades.”

“Where are you going?”

Robin Goodfellow shrugged, uncertain and carefree. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll try to find the End of the World again. Maybe I’ll travel the mortal realm for a while. It really doesn’t matter where I go, or where I end up. There’s a whole huge world out there, and it’s high time for us to get reacquainted.” He looked at me, and his eyes gleamed. “I’m glad we had one last little adventure, ice-boy, but it’s time for me to strike out on my own. Try not to have too much fun without me, okay?”

“Puck,” I said, stopping him as he started to leave. Turning back, he raised an eyebrow, a faint, wary smile crossing his face.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward and held out a hand.

Puck blinked, then very seriously reached out and gripped my palm, squeezing hard, as I did the same. “Good luck,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes. He grinned, not one of his leering, mocking smiles, but a real one.

“You, too, Ash.”

“If you’re ever in Tir Na Nog, say hi to Mab for me.”

Puck laughed, shaking his head as he backed away. “Yeah. I’ll be sure to do that.” On the other side of the bridge, he raised one hand in a salute as glamour shimmered through the air. “See you around, ice-boy.”

A ripple of magic, and Puck’s form twisted and shrank into a huge, black raven, beating the air with powerful wings. With a raucous caw, he rose above me, shedding glamour and feathers, and spiraled away over the trees, until he became a tiny black dot on the horizon and disappeared.

I smiled, turned my back on the wyldwood and crossed the bridge, slipping into the Iron Kingdom alone.