The Iron Queen

CHAPTER TEN THE EDGE OF IRON

Faery was not how I remembered.

I recalled the first time I stepped into the Nevernever through the door in Ethan’s closet. I remembered the enormous trees, so close and tangled that their branches shut out the sky, the mist writhing along the ground, the perpetual twilight that hung over everything. Here in the wyldwood, neither court held sway; it was a fierce, neutral territory that cared nothing for the medieval customs of Summer or the vicious society of Winter.

And it was dying.

It was a subtle thing, the taint that had sunk deep into the land and forest, corrupting them from the inside. Here and there, a tree was empty of leaves, and a rosebush had steel thorns that glinted in the light. I walked into a spiderweb, only to discover it was made of hair-thin wires, much like the net the spider-hags had used on me. Outwardly, the change was faint, almost invisible. But the beating heart of the Nevernever, which I felt all around me in every tree, every leaf and blade of grass, was pulsing with rot. Everything was touched with Iron glamour, and it was slowly eating away the Nevernever, like paper held above a flame.

And, judging from the twin looks of horror on the faces of Ash and Puck, they felt it, too.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” said the gnome envoy, gazing around solemnly. “Not long after you were…ahem…banished, the Iron King’s army attacked, and wherever they went, the Iron Realm spread with them. The combined forces of Summer and Winter were able to drive them back, but even after they were gone, the poison remained. Our armies are camped on the edge, where the wyldwood meets the Iron Kingdom, to try to halt the Iron fey that keep pouring from the breach.”

“You’re only defending the line?” Ash turned his cold gaze on the gnome, who shrank from him. “What about a frontal assault, to close it completely?”

The gnome shook his head. “It doesn’t work. We’ve sent numerous forces into the breach, but none of them have ever come back.”

“And the Iron King has never once showed his ugly face in battle?” Puck asked. “He just sits back like a coward and lets the army come to him?”

“Of course he does.” Grimalkin sniffed, wrinkling his whiskers in distaste. “Why would he endanger himself when he has all the advantages? He has time on his side—the courts do not. Oberon and Mab must be desperate if they are willing to lift your exile. I cannot think of another time when they have been willing to retract their orders.” He blinked and looked at me, narrowing his eyes. “Things must indeed be serious. It appears you are the final hope to save the entire Nevernever.”

“Thanks, Grim. I certainly needed that reminder.” I sighed, pushing bleak, terrifying thoughts to the back of my mind, and turned to the emissary. “I suppose Oberon is waiting for me?”

“He is, your highness.” The gnome bobbed his head and pattered off. “This way, please. I will take you to the battlefront.”

FROM THE TOP OF THE RISE, I looked down into the valley where the Summer and Winter armies were camped.

Tents were set up in a loose, haphazard pattern, looking like a small city of colored cloth and muddy streets. Even from this distance, I could see the distinction between the Seelie and Unseelie: the Seelie preferred lighter, summer-colored tents of brown and green and yellow, while the Unseelie camp was marked by shades of black, blue, and dark red. Even though they were on the same side, Summer and Winter did not mingle, did not share the same space or even the same side of the valley. In the center, however, where the two camps seemed to converge, a larger structure rose into the air, flying the banners of the two courts side by side. At least Mab and Oberon were trying to get along. For now, anyway.

Beyond the camps, a twisted forest of glimmering steel marked the entrance into the realm of the Iron King.

Beside me, Ash scanned the battlefront with narrowed eyes, taking everything in. “They’ve had to fall back several times,” he murmured, his voice low and grave. “The entire camp looks ready to get up and move at a word. I wonder how fast the Iron Realm is spreading.”

“Guess we’re about to find out,” Puck added, as the gnome emissary beckoned us forward and we descended into the camp.

The city of tents was much larger and sprawling up close, renewing my uneasiness for walking through a large group of fey, seeing their glowing, inhuman eyes follow my every move. Thankfully, we only had to walk through the Seelie camp to get to the large tent in the middle, though Puck and Ash stayed very close as we navigated the narrow streets. Elegant Summer knights, clad in armor stylized to look like thousands of overlapping leaves, watched us stonily, their eyes never leaving the Winter prince at my side. A pair of sylphs, razor dragonfly wings scraping together, scurried out of our way, staring at me with unabashed curiosity. A tethered griffin raised its head and hissed, flaring a colorful mane of feathers. One of its wings had been damaged, and it dragged along the ground as the griffin limped back and forth.

“This place smells like blood,” Ash murmured, his eyes darting about the camp. A swamp-green troll hobbled by, one arm burned black and oozing fluid, and I shuddered. “Looks like the war isn’t going well for us.”

“That’s what I like about you, prince. You’re always so cheerful.” Puck shook his head, gazing around the camp, and wrinkled his nose. “Although I will say, this place has seen better days. Does anyone feel like they’re about to hurl, or is it just me?”

“It is the iron.” Grimalkin picked his way over a puddle, then leaped atop a fallen tree, shaking out his paws. “This close to the false king’s realm, his influence is stronger than ever. It will be worse once you are actually within its borders.”

Puck snorted. “Doesn’t seem like it’s affecting you much, cat.”

“That is because I am smarter than you and prepare for these things.”

“Really? How would you prepare for me tossing you into a lake?”

“Puck,” I sighed, but at that moment, two Summer knights approached us, their faces haughty and arrogant even as they bowed. “Lady Meghan,” one said stiffly, after a venomous glare in Ash’s direction. “His majesty King Oberon will see you now.”

“You go ahead,” Grimalkin purred, sitting down on the log. “I have no business with Lord Pointy Ears today. I will not be joining you.”

“Where will you be, Grim?”

“Around.” And the cat vanished from sight. I shook my head and followed the knights, knowing Grimalkin would reappear when we needed him.

We approached the large tent, ducking through the flaps as the guards pulled them aside, and entered a forest clearing draped in shadow. Giant trees stretched above us, tiny pin-pricks of light glimmering through their branches. Will-o’-the-wisps danced on the air, swarming around me, laughing, until I waved them away. An owl hooted close by, adding depth to the complex illusion surrounding us. If I looked at the trees from the corner of my eyes, not really focusing on them, I could see the cloth walls of the tent and the wooden poles holding them up. But I could also feel the heat from the humid summer night and smell the earthy scents of pine and cedar all around us. As far as illusions went, this one was near perfect.

On two thrones in the center of the clearing, as ancient and imposing as the forest itself, the rulers of the Summer Court waited for us.

Oberon was dressed for battle in a suit of mail that glittered emerald-gold under the illusionary stars. A dappled cape rippled behind him, and his antlered crown cast clawed shadows over the forest floor. Tall, lean, and elegant, his long silver hair braided down his back and a sword at his side, the Erlking watched us approach with alien green eyes that betrayed no emotion, even when they flickered to Ash and Puck, standing beside me, and dismissed them just as quickly.

Titania sat beside him, and her expression was much easier to read. The faery queen radiated hate, not just for me, but for the Winter prince, as well. She even stabbed a disdainful glare at Puck, but the brunt of her loathing was directed at me and Ash.

Seeing Titania sent a flare of anger through me. She was ultimately responsible for the whole situation with my real dad. It was her jealousy that led Puck to have Leanansidhe take him away, for fear the Summer Queen would hurt or kill him to spite Oberon. Titania saw my expression, and her lips curled into a nasty smirk, as if she’d discerned my thoughts. It made me very afraid for Paul; if Titania knew he was still alive, she might still hurt him to get to me.

“You have come,” Oberon said, making the ground tremble. “Welcome home, daughter.”

So I’m family again, now that you need something from me, is that it? I wanted to tell him not to call me daughter, that he had no right. I wanted to tell him that he couldn’t just disown me and then call me back like nothing had happened. I didn’t. I only nodded, gazing at the Erlking with what I hoped was a confident expression. Forget bowing and scraping; I was done with that. If the faeries wanted something from me now, they were going to have to work for it.

Oberon raised an eyebrow at my silence, but that was the only outward sign of surprise. “I take it you found the terms of our contract acceptable?” he continued, his voice low and soothing, washing over me like thick syrup, making it suddenly hard to think. “We will raise your exile, and the exile of Robin Goodfellow, in return for your service in destroying the Iron King. I believe that is a fair bargain. Now…” Oberon turned to Puck, as if the matter were already settled. “Tell me what you have learned about the Iron fey in the time of your exile. You disobeyed my direct orders when you left Faery and went after the girl—it must have been very important.”

“Not so fast.” I shook off the glamour making my thoughts heavy and glared at Oberon. “I haven’t said ‘yes,’ yet.”

The Erlking stared at me in surprise. “You do not agree this is fair?” His voice rose at the end, sounding truly shocked that I would turn him down, or maybe that was just more faery glamour. “The offer is most generous, Meghan Chase. I am willing to overlook your blasphemous relationship with the Winter prince and give you a chance to come home.”

“I’m still considering.” I felt both Ash and Puck staring at me and hurried on. “Thing is, this isn’t my home. I already have one, waiting for me back in the mortal world. I already have a family, and I don’t need any of this.”

“Enough.” Titania rose and stabbed a glare of pure poison at me. “We do not need the half-breed, husband. Send her back to the mortal world she is so fond of.”

“Sit down. I wasn’t finished.”

The look on Titania’s face was as priceless as it was terrifying. I continued quickly before I lost my nerve or she turned me into a spider. “I’m willing to bargain with you, but there have to be a few add-ons. My family. Leave them out of this war. Leave them alone, period. And that’s all family members, including the man Leanansidhe stole when I was six.” I leveled a piercing glare at Titania, who stared back at me with murder in her eyes. “I want your word that you’ll let him be.”

“You dare tell me what to do, Meghan Chase?” The queen’s voice was soft, low, and held the ominous threat of an approaching storm. A season ago, I would’ve been afraid. Now, it only made me more determined.

“You need me,” I said, refusing to back down, feeling Ash and Puck press close. “I’m the only one who has a chance of stopping the false king. I’m the only one who can go into that hellhole and come out alive. Well, these are my terms—your word that my family will never see another faery for as long as they live, and that Ash and Puck will be able to return home once this is all over, like you promised they would. I want to hear it firsthand, right now. That’s my bargain for stopping the false king. Take it or leave it.”

The Erlking was silent a moment, his green eyes blank and mirrorlike, reflecting nothing. Then, he smiled, very faintly, and nodded once. “As you wish, daughter,” he mused, ignoring Titania as she whirled on him. “I will promise that no harm will befall your mortal family from anyone in my court. The Winter Court and the denizens of Tir Na Nog are not mine to order, but that is the best I can offer.”

Titania made a strangled noise of rage and stalked out of the clearing, leaving me victor of the field. I breathed deep to calm my pounding heart and turned to Oberon again.

“What about Ash and Puck?”

“Goodfellow is free to return to Faery as he pleases,” Oberon said with a brief glance at Puck. “Though I am certain he will do something else that will raise my ire in the next century or two.” Puck gave Oberon an innocent look. The Erlking did not seem appeased. “However,” he continued, turning back to me, “I am not the one who issued Prince Ash’s exile. You will have to take that up with the Winter Queen.”

“Where is she?”

“Meghan.” Ash moved closer, putting a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to confront Mab on my account.”

Ignoring Oberon, I turned, meeting his gaze. “You don’t care about going home?”

He paused, and I saw it in his eyes. He did care. Cut off from the Nevernever, he would eventually fade away into nothingness; we both knew that. But all he said was, “My only duty is to you now.”

“Mab is in the Winter camp,” Oberon said, after a long, piercing stare at Ash. Turning to me, he fixed me with a solemn gaze. “There is a war council tonight, daughter, between all the generals of Summer and Winter. It would do well for you to attend.”

I nodded, and the Erlking waved dismissal. “I will have someone show you your quarters soon,” he murmured. “Now, go.”

We’d started to retreat when Oberon’s voice stopped us halfway to the door. “Robin Goodfellow,” he said, making Puck wince, “you will remain here.”

“Damn,” Puck muttered. “That was quick. One minute back in the Nevernever and he’s already pulling my strings. You guys go ahead,” he said, waving us off. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” Rolling his eyes, Puck sauntered back toward Oberon, and we left the clearing.

“That was impressive,” Ash said quietly as we walked through the maze of tents. Summer fey parted for us, scurrying out of sight as we headed deeper into camp. “Oberon was throwing all the mind-altering glamour he could at you, trying to get you to agree to his terms quickly and not question him. Not only did you resist, you turned the contract to your advantage. Not many could have done that.”

“Really?” I thought back to the thick, sluggish feeling in the Erlking’s tent. “So that was Oberon trying to manipulate me again, huh? Maybe I could resist since I’m family. Half Oberon’s blood and all that.”

“Or you’re just incredibly stubborn,” Ash added, and I smacked his arm. He chuckled, taking my hand, and we continued on to Winter’s territory.

The Unseelie camp sat closer to the edge of the Iron Realm, and the tension here was definitely high. Winter knights stalked the camp’s borders, grim and dangerous in their black ice armor. Ogres glowered at me from their guard posts, drool dripping from their tusks, their eyes blank and menacing. A wyvern screeched from where it was tied to several stakes, flapping its wings and trying to yank free, snapping angrily at its handlers. I shivered, and Ash’s hand tightened on mine. We encountered no resistance, even among the many goblins, redcaps, and boggarts wandering the rows. The Unseelie gave us a wide berth, staring at Ash with a mixture of fascination, fear, and contempt—the wayward prince who’d turned his back on them all to be with the half-breed human. They never went further than to glare at me stonily, or shoot me a suggestive grin, but I was extremely glad for both the Winter prince and the steel blade at my side.

Just beyond the camp, the entrance to the Iron Realm loomed, metallic trees and twisted steel branches glinting in the dim light. I paused to stare at it, feeling ice form in my stomach as I remembered what it was like; the burning wasteland of junk, the corrosive, flesh-eating rain sweeping over the land, Machina’s black tower stabbing into the sky.

“Well, look who’s back.”

I turned to see a trio of Winter knights blocking our path, armored and dangerous looking, blue icicle shards stabbing up from their shoulders and helms.

“Faolan.” Ash nodded, moving subtly in front of me.

“You’ve got some nerve to come back here, Ash,” the middle knight said. His eyes glittered beneath his helm, glassy-blue and filled with loathing. “Mab was right to exile you. You and the half-breed Summer whore should have stayed in the mortal realm where you belong.”

Ash drew his sword, sending a raspy screech across the field. The knights tensed and quickly backed up, hands dropping to their own blades. “Insult her again, and I will cut you into so many pieces they’ll never find them all,” Ash stated calmly. Faolan bristled and started forward, but Ash leveled the tip at him. “We don’t have time to play with you now, so I’m going to ask you to move.”

“You’re not a prince any longer, Ash,” Faolan growled, drawing his own blade. “You’re just an exile, lower than goblin dung.” He spat at our feet, the spittle crystallizing in the grass, turning to ice. “I think its time we taught you your place, your highness.”

More knights appeared, drawing their swords and hemming us in. I counted five in all, and my heart hammered. As the circle started to close, I drew my sword and stood back-to-back with Ash, raising the blade so the light gleamed off its metal edge. “Stop right there,” I told the knights, feigning a bravado I didn’t feel. “This is iron, as I’m sure you can tell.” I sliced at the air with a satisfying whuff, and pointed at my assailant. “You want to go through with this, go right ahead. I’ve been dying to see what this can do to fey armor.”

“Meghan, get back,” Ash muttered, his gaze never leaving his opponents. “You don’t have to do this. They’re not here for you.”

“I’m not going to let you fight them by yourself,” I hissed back.

A crowd was gathering, peering at us from the rows of tents, curious and eager to see a fight. A few goblins and redcaps shouted “Fight!” and “Kill ’em!” from the sidelines.

Bolstered by the mob and the cries for blood, Faolan grinned and raised his sword. “Don’t worry, Ash,” he smiled. “We won’t rough your human up too badly. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for you. Attack!”

The knights charged. Balanced on the balls of my feet, as Ash had taught me, I focused on the two coming in from behind and let instinct take over. The knights were sneering as they approached, their stances loose and sloppy. Obviously, they didn’t think I was much of a threat. One sword swept up in a lazy arc toward my head, and I raised my own blade to parry, knocking it aside. I saw the knight’s look of shock that I had blocked his attack, and saw an opening. Reacting solely on instinct, my arm shot out, faster than I thought it could, and the tip of my sword pierced his armored thigh.

The knight’s scream snapped me out of my fighter’s trance, and the stench of burned flesh tainted the air, making my stomach churn. I had fully expected him to leap aside or parry, as Ash always did. Instead, I watched my opponent stagger away, clutching his leg and howling, and my rhythm stuttered to a halt. Giving me a furious glare, the other knight raised a huge blue greatsword and lunged with a snarl. I backed away frantically, barely avoiding him. He was pissed now, coming at me fast, and fear churned my insides.

“Meghan! Focus!”

Ash’s voice snapped me out of my terrified daze, and I instinctively jerked to attention, raising my sword. “Remember what I taught you,” he growled somewhere to my left, clipped and breathless from fighting his own assailants. “This is no different.”

The knight attacked savagely, teeth bared in a fearsome snarl, his greatsword sweeping through the air in a lethal arch. His weapon, I thought, dodging away. It’s heavier than mine, slowing him down. Always use your enemy’s weakness to your advantage. I danced around him, keeping just out of reach, watching him pant and grit his teeth as he followed, swatting at me like a pesky fly.

With a frustrated bellow, the knight slammed the edge of his sword into the earth, and a spray of grit and icy shards flew at my face. I turned quickly to shield my eyes, feeling the ice sting my cheek and exposed skin, and heard the knight lunge for me. On instinct, I ducked, nearly going to my knees, feeling the blade whoosh overhead. Coming up blind, I let my sword arm lead me forward and stabbed with all my might.

A jarring impact rocked my shoulder back, and the knight screamed. Glancing up, I found myself standing in front of the knight, the iron blade jammed into his stomach.

The knight choked and dropped his sword, clutching his middle as he staggered back, the sudden stench of burned flesh rising on the breeze. Face tight with fury and pain, the knight turned and vanished into the crowd, and I breathed a ragged sigh.

Shaking with adrenaline, I looked around for Ash and saw him leveling his sword at the throat of a kneeling Faolan. The other knights sprawled nearby, groaning.

“Are we done here?” Ash said softly, and Faolan, eyes blazing with hate, nodded. Ash let him up, and the knights limped off, to the jeers and taunts of the Winter fey.

Sheathing his sword, Ash turned to me. I was still shaking with adrenaline, replaying every moment of the fight in my head. It didn’t seem quite real, like it happened to someone else, but the thrill coursing through my veins said different.

“Did you see that?” I grinned at Ash, my voice trembling with excitement and nerves. “I did it. I actually won!”

“Indeed,” mused a familiar, terrifying voice, one that turned my blood to ice and made the hairs on my neck stand up. “It was quite amusing. I do believe I’m going to need some new guards, if they can’t even defeat one scrawny half-blood.”

It’s amazing how quickly a bloodthirsty mob can clear out, but the Queen of the Winter Fey had that effect on people. In seconds, the crowd had fled, fading back into the camp until it was just me and Ash in the middle of the path. The temperature dropped sharply, and frost spread over the blades of grass at our feet, which could mean only one thing. A few yards away, flanked by two unsmiling knights, Queen Mab watched us with the stillness of a glacier.

As usual, the Winter Queen was stunning in a long battlegown of black and red, her ebony hair a dark cloud behind her. I shivered and pressed closer to Ash as she raised one pure-white hand and beckoned us forward. The Unseelie monarch was as unpredictably dangerous as she was beautiful, prone to trapping living creatures in ice or freezing the blood in their veins, making them die slowly and in agony. I’d already felt the brunt of her legendary temper, and I had no desire to do so again.

“Ash,” Mab crooned, paying no attention to me. “I heard the rumors that you were back. Have you had enough of the mortal world yet? Are you ready to come home?”

Ash’s face was shut into that blank, empty mask, his eyes cold and expressionless. A self-defense mechanism, I recognized, to shield himself from the cruelty of the Winter Court. The Unseelie preyed on the weak, and emotions were considered a weakness here. “No, my Queen,” he said, quiet but unafraid. “I’m no longer yours to command. My service to the Winter Court ended last night.”

Silence for a few heartbeats.

“You.” Mab’s depthless black eyes shifted to me, then back to Ash. “You became her knight, didn’t you? You swore the oath.” She shook her head in disbelief and horror. “Foolish, foolish boy,” she whispered. “You are truly dead to me now.”

Fearing she might turn and walk away, I eased forward. “You’ll still lift his exile, though, won’t you?” I asked, and Mab’s gaze snapped to me. “When this is over, when we take care of the false king, Ash is still free to return to the Nevernever, right?”

“He won’t,” Mab said in a lethally calm voice, and goose bumps rose on my arms from the sudden chill. “Even if I raise his exile, he’ll stay in the mortal realm with you, because you were foolish enough to ask for that oath. You’ve damned him far worse than I ever could.”

My stomach twisted, but I took a deep breath and continued to speak firmly. “I still want your word, Queen Mab. Please. When this is done, Ash is free to return to Tir Na Nog if he chooses to.”

Mab stared at me, long enough for sweat to trickle down my back, then gave us both a cold, humorless smile. “Why not? You are both going to die anyway, so I don’t see how it will matter.” She sighed. “Very well, Meghan Chase. Ash is free to return home if he wants, though he said it himself—his service to the Unseelie Court is done. His oath to you will destroy him faster than anything else.”

And without waiting for a reply, the Unseelie Queen whirled and stalked away from us. Though I couldn’t see her face as she left, I was almost sure she was crying.

CHAPTER ELEVEN THE FAERY WAR COUNCIL

A swollen crimson moon hovered over the camp that night, rust-red and ominous, bathing everything in an eerie, bloody tint. Snow flecks drifted from a nearly clear sky, rusty flakes dancing on the wind, like the moon itself was tainted and corroding away.

I left my tent, which was small and musty and lacked an illusionary forest clearing, to find Ash and Puck waiting for me on the other side of the flaps. The eerie red light outlined their sharp, angular features, making them seem more inhuman than before, their eyes glowing in the shadows. Behind them, the camp was quiet; nothing moved beneath the harsh red moon, and the city of tents resembled a ghost town.

“They’ve called for you,” Ash said solemnly.

I nodded. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

Oberon’s tent loomed above the others, twin banners flapping limply in the breeze. A fine dusting of snow lay on the ground, marred by boots and clawed feet and hooves, all heading toward the center of the camp. Flickering yellow light spilled from the cracks in the tent flaps, and I pushed my way inside.

The forest clearing was still there, but this time a massive stone table sat in the middle, surrounded by faeries in armor. Oberon and Mab stood at the head, imposing and grim, flanked by several sidhe gentry. A huge troll, ram horns curling through his bony helmet, stood quietly with his arms folded, watching the proceedings, while a centaur argued with a goblin chief, both of them stabbing fingers at the map on the table. An enormous oakman, gnarled and twisted, crouched low to hear the voices at his feet, his weathered face impassive.

“I’m warning you,” the centaur said, the muscles in his flank quivering with rage, “if your scouts are going to set traps at the edge of the wasteland, let me know so my scouts don’t walk right into them! I’ve had two break their legs stepping into a pit, and another nearly die from one of your poison darts.”

The goblin chief snickered. “Ain’t my fault yer scouts don’t watch where they tromp,” he sneered, baring a mouthful of crooked fangs. “Besides, what’re yer scouts doin’ so close to our camp, hmm? Stealin’ secrets, I’d wager. Jealous that we’ve always been the better trackers, I bet.”

“Enough.” Oberon broke in before the centaur could leap across the table and strangle the goblin. “We are not here to fight each other. I wished only to know what your scouts have reported, not the silent war between them.”

The centaur sighed and gave the goblin a murderous look. “It is as the goblins say, my lord,” he said, turning to Oberon. “The skirmishes we have fought with the Iron abominations seem to be advance units. They are testing us, probing our weaknesses, knowing we cannot follow them into the Iron Realm. We have yet to see the full army. Or the Iron King.”

“Sire,” said one of the sidhe generals, bowing to Oberon, “what if this is a ruse? What if the Iron King intends to attack elsewhere? We might be better served defending Arcadia and the Summer Court than waiting at the edge of the wyldwood.”

“No.” It was Mab who spoke then, cold and unyielding. “If you leave to return to your home court, we will be lost. If the Iron King taints the wyldwood, Summer and Winter will soon follow. We cannot retreat to our homes. We must hold the line here.”

“Agreed,” said Oberon in a voice that was final. “Summer will not retreat from this. The only way to protect Arcadia, and all of the Nevernever, is to stop the advance here. Kruxas,” he said, looking at the troll. “Where are your forces? Are they on their way?”

“Yes, your majesty,” growled the troll, nodding his huge head. “They will be here in three days, barring any complications.”

“And what of the Ancient Ones?” Mab looked at the general who had spoken. “This is their world, even if they slumber through it. Have the dragons heeded our call to arms?”

“We do not know the state of the few remaining Ancients, your majesty.” The general bowed his head. “Thus far, we have only been able to find one, and we are unsure if she will help us. As for the rest, they either sleep still or have retreated deep into the earth to wait this out.”

Oberon nodded. “Then we will do without them.”

“Forgive me, your majesty.” It was the centaur who spoke again, giving Oberon a pleading look. “But how do we stop the Iron King if he refuses to engage us? He still hides within his poisoned land, while we waste lives and resources waiting for him. We cannot sit here forever, while the Iron abominations pick us off one by one.”

“No,” said Oberon, and looked directly at me. “We cannot.”

All eyes turned to me. I swallowed and resisted the urge to shrink back as Puck let out a puff of breath and gave me a wry glance. “Well, that’s our cue.”

“Meghan Chase has agreed to go into the wasteland and find the Iron King,” Oberon said as I edged up to the table, followed by Ash and Puck. Curious, disbelieving, and disdainful stares followed me. “Her half-human blood will protect her from the poison of the realm, and without an army she has the chance to slip through unnoticed.” Oberon’s eyes narrowed, and he stabbed a finger into the map. “While she is there, we must hold this position at all costs. We must give her the time she needs to discover the location of the Iron King and kill him.”

My gut clenched, and my throat felt dry. I really didn’t want to have to kill again. I still had nightmares about sticking an arrow through the chest of the last Iron King. But I’d given my word, and everyone was counting on me. If I wanted to see my family again, we had to end this now.

“Your majesty.” It was a Winter sidhe who spoke this time, a tall warrior in icy armor, his white hair braided down his back. “Forgive me, sire. But are we really entrusting the safety of the realm, the entire Nevernever to this…half-breed? This exile who flouts the laws of both courts?” He shot me a hostile glare, his eyes glittering blue. “She is not one of us. She will never be one of us. Why should she care what happens to the Nevernever? Why should we even trust her?”

“She is my daughter.” Oberon’s voice was calm, but had the tremor of an approaching earthquake. “And you do not need to trust her. You need only to obey.”

“But he raises a good point, Erlking,” Mab said, smiling at me in a way that made my skin crawl. “What are your plans, half-breed? How do you expect to find the Iron King, and if you do, how do you expect to stop him?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted softly, and disgusted growls went around the table. “I don’t know where he is. But I will find him, I promise you that. I took down one Iron King—you’ll just have to trust I can do it again.”

“You are asking a great deal of us, half-breed,” said another faery, a Summer knight this time, regarding me with a dubious, acid-green gaze. “I cannot say I like this plan of yours, such as it is.”

“You don’t have to like it,” I said, facing them all. “And you don’t have to trust me. But it seems to me that I’m the best chance you’ve got at stopping the false king. I don’t see any of you volunteering to go into the Iron Realm. If anyone else has a better idea, I’d love to hear it.”

Silence for a long moment, broken only by a faint snicker from Puck. Angry, sullen glares were leveled my way, but no one rose to challenge me. Oberon’s face was expressionless, but Mab watched me with a cold, frightening gaze.

“You are correct, Erlking,” she said at last, turning to Oberon. “Time is of the essence. We will send the half-breed into the wasteland to slay the abomination called the Iron King. If she succeeds, the war will be ours. If she dies—” Mab broke off to look at me, her perfect red lips curling into a smile “—we lose nothing.”

Oberon nodded, still expressionless. “I would not send you alone unless it was of gravest circumstances, daughter,” he continued. “I know I ask much of you, but you have surprised me before. I only pray you surprise me again.”

“She won’t be alone,” Ash said softly, startling everyone. The prince moved beside me to face the war council, his face and voice firm. “Goodfellow and I are going with her.”

The Erlking gazed at him. “I thought as much, knight,” he mused. “And I admire your loyalty, though I fear it will destroy you in the end. But…do what you must. We will not stop you.”

“I still think you a fool, boy,” Mab said, turning her cold glare on her youngest son. “Were it up to me, I would have torn out your throat to keep you from speaking that oath. But if you insist upon going with the girl, the Unseelie Court has something that might help.”

I blinked in surprise, and Oberon turned to Mab, raising an eyebrow. Obviously, this was news to him, too. But the Winter Queen ignored him, her black eyes shifting to me, dark and feral.

“Does this surprise you, half-breed?” She sniffed in disdain. “Believe what you will, I have no desire to see my last son dead. If Ash insists on following you into the Iron Realm again, he will need something that will protect him from the poison of that place. My smiths have been working on a charm that could possibly shield the bearer from the Iron glamour. They tell me it is almost ready.”

My heart leaped. “What is it?”

Mab smiled, cold and brittle, and turned to the watching fey. “Leave,” she hissed. “All of you, except the girl and her protectors, get out.”

The Winter faeries straightened immediately and left, exiting the clearing without a backward glance. The Summer knights looked questioningly at Oberon, who dismissed them with a curt nod. Reluctantly, they drew back, bowed to their king, and followed the Winter fey out of the tent, leaving us alone with the rulers of Faery.

Oberon gave Mab a level stare. “Hiding things from the Summer Court, Lady Mab?”

“Do not take that tone with me, Lord Oberon.” Mab narrowed her eyes at him. “You would do the same, as well. I look out for my own, no others.” She raised her hands and clapped once. “Heinzelmann, bring in the abomination.”

The grass rustled as three small men with lizardlike features melted from the shadows and padded up to the table. Smaller than dwarves, they barely came up to my knee, but they weren’t gnomes or brownies or goblins. I shot a questioning look at Ash, and he grimaced.

“Kobolds,” he said. “They’re the smiths for the Unseelie Court.”

The kobolds carried a cage between them, made of inter-locking branches that glowed with Summer glamour, trapping whatever was inside. Peering out at us, hissing and snarling and shaking the bars of its cage, was a gremlin.

I couldn’t help but cringe when I saw the creature. Gremlins were Iron faeries, but so chaotic and wild, not even the other Iron fey wanted them around. They lived in machines and computers and would often congregate in huge swarms, usually where they could do the most damage. They were spindly, ugly little creatures, sort of a cross between a naked monkey and a wingless bat, with long arms, flared-out ears, and razor-sharp teeth that glowed neon-blue when they smiled.

I understood now why Mab wanted everyone else gone. The gremlin might not have survived its trek to the table, as one or more knights would probably have cut it down as soon as they saw it. Oberon watched the hissing faery with the look of someone observing a particularly disgusting insect, but did nothing more than blink.

The kobolds heaved the cage onto the table, where the gremlin snarled and spat at us, flitting from one side of the container to the next. The largest kobold, a yellow-eyed creature with bushy hair, grinned, flicking his tongue like a lizard. “It isss ready, Queen Mab,” he hissed. “Would you like to perform the ritual?”

Mab’s smile was thoroughly frightening. “Give me the amulet, Heinzelmann.”

The kobold handed her something that flashed briefly in the dim light. Still smiling, the Winter Queen turned back to the gremlin, watching it with a predatory gleam in her eyes. The gremlin snarled at her. Raising her fist, the queen began chanting, words I didn’t understand, words that rippled with power, swirling around her like a vortex. I felt a pull on the inside, as if my soul was straining to leave my body and fly into that whirlwind. I gasped and felt Ash take my hand, squeezing it tightly as if he feared I would fly away, as well.

The gremlin arched its back, mouth gaping, and gave a piercing wail. I saw a dark, ragged wisp, like a dirty cloud, rise up from the gremlin’s mouth and get pulled into the vortex. Mab continued to chant, and like a tornado being sucked down a drain, the vortex vanished into whatever she held in her hand. The gremlin collapsed, twitching, sparks jumping off its body to fizzle on the stone. With a final shudder, it was still.

My mouth was dry as Mab turned back to us, a triumphant look on her face. “What did you do to it?” I demanded hoarsely.

Mab raised her hand. An amulet dangled by a thin silver chain, flashing like a drop of water in the sun. It was a tiny thing, shaped like a teardrop, held in place by prongs of ice. The teardrop was as clear as glass, and I could see something writhing like smoke on the inside.

“We have found a way to trap the Iron creature’s life essence,” Mab purred, sounding horribly pleased with herself. “If the amulet works, it will draw the Iron glamour from the wearer into itself, cleansing and protecting him from the poison. You will even be able to touch iron without being burned. Severely, anyway.” She shrugged. “At least, that is what my smiths tell me. It has not been tested yet.”

“And was that the only one?” Ash nodded to the lifeless gremlin, his face uncertain. The creature seemed even smaller in death than in life, as fragile as a pile of twigs. Mab gave a cruel laugh, shaking her head.

“Oh no, my dear.” She let the amulet dangle, spinning slowly on its chain. “Many, many abominations went into the making of this charm. Which is why we could not hand them out to just anyone. Capturing the creatures alive proved…difficult.”

“And—” I stared at the writhing mist within the glass, feeling faintly ill “—you have to kill them to make it work?”

“This is war, human.” Mab’s voice was cold and remorseless. “It is either kill or be destroyed ourselves.” The queen sniffed, gazing contemptuously at the twisted body of the gremlin. “The Iron fey are corrupting our home and poisoning our people. I think this fair exchange, don’t you?”

I wasn’t sure about that, but Puck cleared his throat, drawing our attention. “Hate to sound greedy and all,” he said, “but is ice-boy the only one who gets a shiny piece of jewelry? Seeing as there are three of us going into the Iron Realm.”

Mab gave him an icy glare. “No, Robin Goodfellow,” she said, making Puck’s name sound like a curse. “The creature that showed us how to make these insisted you get one, too.” She gestured, and Heinzelmann the kobold approached Puck with a grin, handing out another amulet on a chain. This one had vines curled around the glass instead of ice, but they were otherwise identical. Puck grinned as he looped it around his neck, giving Mab a slight bow, which she ignored.

Beckoning Ash forward, Mab draped the amulet around his neck as he bowed. “This is the best we can do for you,” she said as Ash straightened, and for a moment, the Winter Queen looked almost regretful, staring at her son. “If you cannot defeat the Iron King, then we are all lost.”

“We won’t fail,” Ash said softly, and Mab placed a palm on his cheek, gazing at him like she would not see him again.

“One last thing,” she added as Ash stepped back. “The magic in the amulet is not permanent. It will weaken and corrode over time, and eventually it will shatter altogether. The smiths also tell me that any use of glamour will hasten the charm’s destruction, as will direct contact with anything made of iron. How long that will take, they are not sure. But they do agree on one thing—it will not last forever. Once you enter the Iron Realm, you have a limited time to find your target and kill him. So, I would hurry if I were you, Meghan Chase.”

Oh, of course, I thought, as my gut twisted and sank down to my toes. This impossible situation also comes with a time limit. No pressure.

“Queen Mab!”

The shout, high-pitched and gravelly, echoed from beyond the clearing, and a moment later a leafy bush scurried into the tent and danced around at Mab’s feet. It took me a moment to realize it was a goblin with leaves and twigs glued to its clothes, making it blend perfectly into a forest environment.

“Queen Mab!” it rasped. “Iron fey! Snigg spotted many Iron fey camped at the edge of the wasteland! Sound alarm! Ready weapons! Run, run!”

Mab swooped down and in a blindingly quick gesture, grabbed the frantic goblin by the throat, lifting it into the air.

“How many of them are there?” she asked softly, as the goblin choked and kicked weakly in her grip, his leafy camouflage bobbing.

“Um.” The goblin gave a last twitch and calmed down. “Few hundred?” it croaked. “Many lights, many creatures. Snigg didn’t get a good look, so sorry.”

“And are they approaching, or stationary?” Mab continued in what would have been a calm, reasonable voice, if the glassy look in her eyes hadn’t betrayed her scariness. “Do we have time to prepare, or are they right at our door?”

“Few miles out, your majesty. Snigg ran all the way back when he saw them, but they had camped, camped for the night. Snigg’s guess is they’ll attack at dawn.”

“So we have a little time, at least.” Mab tossed away the goblin like she was throwing out an empty soda can. “Go inform our forces that battle is nigh. Tell the generals to attend me, to discuss our strategy for the morning. Go!”

The goblin fled, a leafy bush scrambling out of the tent. Mab whirled on Oberon. “It is terribly convenient,” she hissed, scowling, “for your daughter to appear and we are immediately attacked. It is almost as if they are coming for her.”

Sheer black fright washed through me. One or two opponents I could handle, but not an entire army. “What can I do?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “Do you want me to leave now?”

Oberon shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said firmly. “The enemy is at our doorstep, and you could walk straight into their jaws.”

“I could sneak around—”

“No, Meghan Chase. I will not risk your discovery. Too much is at stake for you to be captured and killed. We will fight them tomorrow and when they are defeated, you will have a clear path into the Iron Realm.”

“But—”

“I will not argue with you, daughter.” Oberon turned and fixed me with unyielding green eyes, his voice going deep and terrible. “You will remain here, where we can protect you, until the battle is won. I am still king, and that is my final word on the matter.”

He glared at me, and I didn’t protest. Despite our family ties, he was still Lord of the Summer Fey; it would be dangerous to push him any further. Mab sniffed, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Very well, Erlking,” she said, drawing herself up. “I must ready my troops for the battle. Excuse me.”

With a last chilly smile at me, the Queen of the Winter Fey left the clearing. I watched her swoop out of the tent, and turned back to Oberon. “So, what now?”

“Now,” Oberon replied, “we make ready for war.”

CHAPTER TWELVE THE TRAITOR KNIGHT

The camp celebrated that night. Once word of the impending attack got out, excitement and anticipation spread like wildfire, until it could no longer be contained to a few stuffy tents. Faeries swarmed the streets like revelers after a hockey game, drudging up food and alcohol and other, more questionable things. Drums and pipes, primal and dark, echoed over the wind, pounding out a savage rhythm. On each side of the camp, massive bonfires were lit, roaring up like phoenixes in the night, as the armies of Summer and Winter danced and drank and sang the night away.

I hung back from the main fires, avoiding the dancing and the drinking and the other acts going on in the shadows. From where I stood, a mug of black tea warming my hands, I could see both Summer and Winter fires and the dark silhouettes dancing around them. On the Unseelie side, goblins and redcaps chanted dark, vulgar battle songs, usually about blood and meat and body parts, while dryads and tree nymphs swayed a mesmerizing dance around the Seelie camp, moving like branches in the wind. A sylph fluttered by, chased by a satyr, and an ogre hefted a whole ale keg above his open mouth, bathing his face in dark liquor.

“You wouldn’t think there’s a fight tomorrow,” I muttered to Ash, who was leaning against a tree, a green bottle held lightly between two fingers. Every so often, he’d raise the glass and take a single swallow from the neck, but I knew better than to ask him to share. Faery wine is potent stuff, and I had no desire to spend the rest of the night as a hedgehog, or holding a conversation with giant pink rabbits. “Isn’t it traditional to celebrate after you win?”

“And what if there is no tomorrow?” Ash turned his gaze toward the Unseelie bonfire, where the goblins were singing, something about fingers and meat cleavers. “Many of them won’t live to see another dawn. And once we die, there is nothing left. No existence beyond this one.” Though his voice was matter-of-fact, a shadow hovered in his eyes. He took a swig of wine and glanced at me, one corner of his lip turned up. “I think you mortals have a phrase—eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die?”

“Oh, that’s not morbid at all, Ash.”

Before he could reply, something stumbled into our little space, tripped, and went sprawling at my feet. It was Puck, his shirt off, his red hair in disarray. He grinned up at me, a crown of daisies woven through his hair, a bottle clutched in one hand. A group of nymphs crowded around him a second later, giggling. I drew back as they swarmed all over him.

“Oh, hey, princess!” Puck waved inanely as the nymphs pulled him to his feet, still giggling. His hair gleamed, his eyes gleamed, and I barely recognized him. “Wanna play ride the phouka with us?”

“Um. No thanks, Puck.”

“Suit yourself. But you only live once, princess.” And Puck let himself be pulled away by the nymphs, vanishing into the crowd by the fire. Ash shook his head and took a swig from his bottle. I stared after them, not knowing what to feel.

“That’s a side of him I haven’t seen before,” I muttered at last, hunching my shoulders against the wind. Ash chuckled.

“Then you don’t know Goodfellow as well as you think.” The dark faery pushed himself off the tree and came to stand beside me, lightly touching my shoulder. “Try to get some rest. The revel will only get wilder as the night goes on, and you might not want to see what happens when faeries get extremely drunk. Besides, you’ll want at least a few hours of sleep before the battle tomorrow.”

I shivered as I rose, my stomach clenching as I thought of the impending war. “Will I have to fight, too?” I asked as we fell into step back toward my tent. Ash sighed.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” he said, almost to himself. “And I don’t think Oberon will want you in the midst of it, either. You’re too important to risk being killed.”

I was relieved, but at the same time, guilt gnawed at me. I was tired of people dying while I stood by, helpless. Maybe it was time I started fighting my own battles.

We reached my tent and I hesitated, my heart suddenly fluttering like crazy. I could feel his presence at my back, quiet and strong, making my skin tingle. The darkness beyond the flaps beckoned invitingly, and words danced on the tip of my tongue, held back by nervousness and fear.

Just spit it out, Meghan. Ask him to stay with you tonight. What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? I cringed inwardly with embarrassment. Okay, that would suck. But would he really refuse? You know he loves you. What are you waiting for?

I took a breath. “Ash…um…”

“Prince Ash!” A Winter knight marched through the line of tents and bowed when he reached us. I wanted to kick him, but Ash looked amused.

“So, I’m a prince again, am I?” he mused softly. “Very well. What do you want, Deylin?”

“Queen Mab has requested your presence, your highness,” the knight continued, ignoring me completely. “She wishes you to meet her in her tent on the Winter side of the camp. I will remain here and guard the Summer princess until—”

“I no longer answer to Queen Mab,” Ash said, and the knight gaped at him. “If my lady wishes me to go, I will honor her request. If she does not, then I would ask you to send the queen my apologies.”

The Winter knight continued to look dumbstruck, but Ash turned to me, serious and formal, though I could sense a secret triumph deep within. “If you want me to stay, you only have to say the word,” he stated quietly. “Or I can go see what Mab wants. Your will is my command.”

I was tempted, so very tempted, to ask him to stay. I wanted to pull him into my tent and make us both forget about the war and the courts and the looming battle, just for a night. But Mab would be even more furious, and I really didn’t want to piss off the Winter Queen any more than I already had.

“No,” I sighed. “Go see what Mab wants. I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, and he drew back. “I’ll be close,” he said. “And Deylin will be right outside. You can trust him, but if you need me, just call.”

“I will,” I replied, and watched him walk away until he disappeared into the shadows, my skin buzzing with thwarted desire. Deylin gave me a jerky bow and turned away, positioning himself in front of my tent. Sighing, I ducked inside and flopped down on my bed, covering my heated face with a pillow. My head swirled with forbidden thoughts and feelings, making it impossible to relax. For a long time, I could think only of a certain dark knight, and when I finally dropped off to sleep, he continued to invade my dreams.

SOMETHING CLAMPED DOWN over my mouth in the darkness, muffling my startled yelp. I jerked, but found myself pinned on my back, my arms crushed under the body straddling my waist. An armored knight loomed over me, a full helm and visor concealing his face.

“Shhhhhh.” The knight pressed a finger to his lips through the helm. I could feel him smiling behind the visor. “Relax, your highness. This will be much easier if you don’t fight.”

I bucked desperately, but the gauntlet over my mouth slammed me back, squeezing until tears formed in my eyes. The knight sighed. “I see you want to do this the hard way.”

The gauntlet grew icy cold on my skin, burning like fire. I thrashed and kicked, but couldn’t dislodge the weight on my chest or the hand over my face. Ice formed on my skin, spreading over my cheeks and jaw, freezing my lips shut. The knight chuckled and removed his hand, leaving me panting through my nose against the ice gag. My face felt like it had been splashed with acid, vicious cold eating into my bones.

“That’s better.” The knight sat back, settling his weight more fully, and gazed down at me. “Wouldn’t want dear Ash to come running just yet, would we?”

I jerked in recognition. I knew that smug, arrogant voice. The knight saw my reaction and chuckled.

Reaching to his helm, he flipped up the visor, confirming my suspicions. My heart pounded, and I shivered violently, struggling to control my fear.

“Miss me, princess?” Rowan smiled, his diamond-blue eyes gleaming in the darkness, and I would’ve gasped in revulsion if I could. Ash’s older brother looked different now; his once-handsome, pointed face resembled a crater of raw flesh and ugly burns. Open, gaping wounds seeped fluid down his cheeks, and his nose had fallen off, leaving ugly holes behind. He reminded me of a grinning skull, glassy eyes sunk deep into his head, bright with pain and madness.

“Do I disgust you?” he whispered, as I fought the urge to gag. “This is merely a trial, princess, my rite of passage. The iron burns away the weak, useless flesh, until I am reborn as one of them. I must merely endure the pain until I am complete. When the Iron King takes over the Nevernever, I will be the only one of the oldbloods to withstand the change.”

I shook my head, wanting to tell him he was wrong, that there was no rite of passage, that the false king was merely using him like all the others. But of course, I couldn’t speak through the ice, and Rowan suddenly pulled a dagger, the onyx blade thin and serrated like the edges of a shark’s tooth.

“The Iron King wants to do the honors himself,” he whispered, “but all you have to be is slightly alive when you get there. I think I’ll cut off a few fingers and leave them behind for Ash to find before we go. What do you say, your highness?”

He shifted his weight to free one of my arms, grabbed my wrist, and pinned it to the ground despite my wild thrashing. “Oh, keep squirming, princess,” he cooed. “It makes this so erotic.” Picking up the knife, he positioned it above my hand, choosing a finger.

I took a deep breath to calm my panic and tried to think. My sword was close, but I couldn’t move my arm. Using glamour would either exhaust or sicken me, but I had no choice this time. As Rowan prodded my exposed fingers with the tip of the knife, drawing tiny blood drops and extending the torment, I focused on the hilt.

Wood is wood. Puck’s voice echoed in my mind. Be it a dead tree, the side of a ship, a wooden crossbow or a simple broom handle, Summer magic can make it come alive again, if only for a moment. Concentrate.

A surge of glamour, and gleaming thorns erupted from the hilt, stabbing through the gauntlet and into Rowan’s flesh. The room swirled as dizziness came almost immediately, and I broke the connection as Rowan howled, jerking back and releasing my arm. Exactly as I hoped. With an internal yell, I surged up, ignoring the clinging nausea, and thrust my freed hand under his visor, clawing at his hideous, burned face.

This time, Rowan’s scream shook the cloth walls. Dropping the knife, he went to cover his face and I shoved him off with all my might. Scrambling upright, I whirled and drew my sword with one hand, clawing at my frozen face with the other. Ice broke off in chunks, feeling like they took flaps of skin with them. I blinked away tears as Rowan got to his feet, his expression murderous.

“You really think you’re going to beat me?” Drawing his sword, which was ice-blue and serrated like the knife, Rowan stepped forward. Blood ran down the side of his face, and one eye was squeezed shut. “Why didn’t you run, princess?” he mused. “Run to Ash and your father—I can’t chase you through the whole camp. You should have run.”

I ripped the last of the ice from my lips and spat on the ground between us, tasting blood. “I’m through with running,” I said, watching his one good eye narrow. “And I’m not about to let you stab me in the back, either. I want you to take a message to the false king.”

Rowan smiled, teeth shining like fangs in his ravaged face, and eased closer. I held my ground, sinking into a defensive stance like Ash taught me. I was still afraid, because I’d seen Rowan fight Ash before, and I knew he was far better than me. But anger overshadowed fear now, and I pointed at Rowan with my sword. “You tell the false king he doesn’t have to send anyone to get me,” I said in the firmest voice I could manage. “I’m coming for him. I’m coming for him, and when I find him, I’m going to kill him.”

With a shock, I realized that I really meant it. It was either him or my family now, both mortal and faery. For everyone else to live, the false king had to die. As Grim once prophesized, I had become an assassin of the courts.

Rowan sneered, unimpressed. “I’ll be sure to tell him, princess,” he mocked. “But don’t think you’re getting away from me unscathed.” He took another step forward, and I eased backward, toward the tent flaps. “I think I’ll take an ear for a trophy, just to show the king that I didn’t fail him.”

He lunged, a blindingly quick move that took me by surprise. I jerked back, sweeping my blade up to parry, managing to deflect his sword, but I wasn’t quite fast enough. The tip grazed my skin, slicing a line of fire across my cheek. I stumbled back, tripped over something in the doorway, and fell backward out of the tent.

Deylin’s lifeless, frozen body stared up at me, his eyes wide with shock. As I watched, the faery’s body rippled, then dissolved like an ice cube in the microwave, until nothing was left but a puddle of water in the dirt.

Cursing, I scrambled to my feet, backing away from the opening. My cheek burned, and I could feel something warm trickling down my face. “Ash!” I yelled, gazing around wildly. “Puck! It’s Rowan! Rowan is here!”

The camp was dark, silent. Faeries lay passed out on the ground, snoring where they’d fallen, mugs and bottles scattered everywhere. Smoke curled lazily into the air from charred timbers, embers flickering weakly in the darkness.

Rowan exited the tent, pushing aside the flaps and brazenly stepping into the open, sneering all the while. Still smiling, he put two fingers to his mouth and blew out a piercing whistle that carried over the trees. “Running away now, princess?” he asked, as faeries began to groan and stir, blinking and confused. “How do you expect to kill the Iron King when you can’t even get past his knight?”

“I’ll find a way,” I told him, keeping my sword pointed at his chest. “I did before.”

Rowan chuckled. “We’ll look forward to it then, princess. Say hello to Ash for me.”

“Rowan!”

Ash’s shout of fury echoed through the camp. The dark prince appeared beside me from nowhere, anger swirling around him in a black-and-red cloud. The look in his eyes when he faced his brother was terrifying—that blank, glassy killing stare that promised no mercy.

Rowan laughed and threw up an arm.

An answering bellow rang overhead, and two tons of scaly brown wyvern crashed into our midst, roaring and lashing out with its tail. I saw the gleaming, poisoned barb coming toward me and slashed wildly with my blade, cutting through the tip. The barb and the end of its tail fell, writhing, in the dirt, though the force of the blow knocked me off my feet. In the same second, Ash’s sword lashed out, slicing across one bulbous yellow eye.

The wyvern screeched and drew back, and in one swift motion, Rowan leaped atop the scaly neck as it lunged skyward, beating the air with tattered, leathery wings. Rising above our heads, the huge lizard streaked toward the edge of the trees and vanished through the gap that led to the Iron Realm, Rowan’s mocking laughter echoing in its wake.

Panting, Ash sheathed his sword and helped me to my feet. “Meghan, are you all right?” he asked, his gaze flicking over my face, resting on my cut cheek. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Mab wanted a full report from the time we were exiled. What happened?”

I winced. Talking hurt now; my lips were raw and bloody, and the left side of my face felt like someone had pressed it to a lit stove. “He showed up in my tent bragging that he was going to become an Iron faery, and that the false king was waiting for me. He was going to cut off my fingers and leave them for you to find,” I continued, looking at Ash, seeing his eyes narrow, “but that was before I clawed his eyes out. Ow.” I gingerly probed my cheek, grimacing as my fingers came away stained with blood. “Bastard.”

“I will kill him,” Ash muttered in that soft, scary voice. It sounded like a promise, though he didn’t say the words. The murderous look in his eyes spoke loud enough.

“Princess!” Puck appeared then, still shirtless, his hair looking like a vulture had nested in it. “What happened? Was that Rowan that just beat the hell out of here? What’s going on?”

I scowled at him, barely stopping myself from asking what he’d been doing all night. Flowers were still woven into his hair, and I couldn’t tell if those were scratches on his bare skin or not. “That was Rowan,” I told him instead. “I don’t know how he snuck through the camp, but he did. And you can be sure he’s off to tell the false king I’m here.”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “Then we should be ready for them.”

The sharp blast of a horn echoed over the trees then, loud and sudden. It was followed by another, and another, as faeries jerked awake or emerged from their tents, blinking in alarm. Ash raised his head and followed the sound, the ghost of a vicious smile crossing his face.

“They’re coming.”

The camp erupted into organized chaos. Fey leaped to their feet, snatching weapons and armor. Captains and lieutenants appeared, barking orders, directing their squads to form ranks. Gryphon and wyvern handlers ran to get their beasts ready for combat, and knights began saddling their fey steeds, while the horses tossed their heads and pranced with anticipation. For a moment, I had the surreal feeling of being in the center of a medieval fantasy film, Lord of the Rings style, with all the knights and horses rushing back and forth. Then the full realization hit, making me slightly nauseous. This wasn’t a movie. This was a real battle, with real creatures that would do their best to kill me.

“Meghan Chase!”

A pair of female satyrs trotted toward me, ducking and weaving through the crowd, their furry goat legs skipping over the mud. “Your father sent us to make sure you were suitably attired for the battle,” one of them told me as they drew close. “He had something designed especially for you. If you would follow us, please.”

I winced. The last time Oberon had had something designed especially for me, it was a horribly fancy dress that I’d refused to wear. But Ash released my arm and gave me a gentle nudge toward the waiting satyrs.

“Go with them,” he told me. “I have to find something for myself, as well.”

“Ash…”

“I’ll be back soon. Take care of her, Goodfellow.” And he jogged away, vanishing into the crowds.

The satyrs beckoned impatiently, and we followed them to a strange white tent on the Summer side of the camp. The material was light and gauzy, draped over the poles in wispy strands that reminded me uncomfortably of spiderwebs. The satyrs ushered me through the flaps, but I turned and stopped Puck at the entrance, firmly telling him he would have to wait outside while I dressed. Ignoring his stupid leer, hoping he wouldn’t turn into a mouse so he could sneak in and watch, I went inside.

The interior of the tent was dark and warm, the walls covered with webbing that rustled and slithered, as if hundreds of tiny creatures were scurrying through it. A tall, pale woman with long dark hair waited for me in the dim room, her eyes gleaming-black orbs in her pinched face.

“Meghan Chase,” the woman rasped, huge black eyes following my every move. “You have arrived. How fortuitous that we meet again.”

“Lady Weaver.” I nodded, recognizing the Seelie Court’s head seamstress, and stifled the urge to rub my arms. I’d met her before on my first trip into Faery, and like before, her presence made me feel itchy, as if thousands of bugs were crawling over my skin.

“Come, come,” Lady Weaver said, beckoning me with one pale, spiderlike hand. “The battle is about to commence, and your father wished for me to design your armor.” She led me toward the back of the tent, where something shimmered in the gloom, held up by thin white strands. “It is my best work so far. What do you think?”

At first glance, it looked like a long coat of some sort, fastened at the waist and split to flare out behind the legs. Looking closer, I saw that the material was made up of tiny scales, flexible to the touch, yet impossibly strong. The back was strewn with intricate designs that looked almost geometric in nature. Gauntlets, greaves, leggings, and boots, made of the same scaly material, completed the outfit.

“Wow,” I said, drawing closer. “It’s beautiful.”

Lady Weaver sniffed.

“As usual, my talents are underappreciated,” she sighed, snapping her fingers at the two satyrs, who hurried forward. “Here I am, the greatest seamstress in the Nevernever, reduced to weaving dragon-scale armor for unrefined half-breeds. Very well, girl. Try it on. It will fit perfectly.”

The satyrs helped me into the suit, which was lighter and more flexible than I’d thought it would be. Except for the gauntlets and greaves, I didn’t even feel like I was in armor. Which I guessed was kind of the point.

“Nice,” came a voice at the door, and Puck strolled in. I blinked in surprise. He was dressed for battle, too, in a leather breastplate over a suit of silvery-green mail, dark leather gauntlets, and knee-high boots. A green cloth hung from his belt, decorated with curling vines and leaves, and thick shoulder plates jutted out from his collarbone, looking like rough, spiky bark.

“Surprised, princess?” Puck shrugged, causing his shoulder spikes to jerk up. “I don’t normally wear armor, but then, I don’t normally have to face an army of Iron fey, either. Figured I might as well have some protection.” He scanned my outfit and nodded with appreciation. “Impressive. Real dragon-scale—that’ll hold up to almost anything.”

“I hope so,” I murmured, and Lady Weaver snorted.

“Of course it will, girl,” she snapped, pursing her bloodless lips at me. “Who do you think designed this suit? Now, shoo. I have other things to work on. Out!”

Puck and I fled, ducking out of the tent. The camp was nearly empty now, ranks upon ranks of Summer and Winter fey lining the edge of the metal forest. Waiting for the battle to begin.

I shivered and rubbed my arms. As if reading my thoughts, Puck moved closer and put a hand on my elbow. “Don’t worry, princess,” he said. And though his voice was light, there was a hard edge to his smile. “Any Iron bastard that wants you will have to get past me, first.” He rolled his eyes. “And of course, the dark knight over there.”

“Where?” I followed his gaze, just in time to see Ash appear from behind a tent and walk toward us. His armor gleamed under the sun, black marked with icy silver, a stylized wolf head on the breastplate. He looked incredibly dangerous, the black knight out of legend, a tattered cape fluttering behind him.

“Oberon has called for you,” he announced, taking in my suit with a single, approving nod. “He wants you to stay near the back, where the fighting won’t reach you. He has a platoon of bodyguards stationed there to protect—”

“I’m not going.”

Both Ash and Puck blinked at me. “I’m fighting,” I said in the firmest voice I could manage. “I don’t want to hang back and watch everyone die for me. This is my war, too.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, princess?”

I glanced at Puck and smiled. “Are you going to stop me?”

He held up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grinned and shook his head. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

I looked at Ash, wondering what he thought of this, if he would try to talk me down. He gazed back with a solemn expression, teacher to student, sizing me up. “You’ve never fought in a real war,” he said softly, and I caught the trace of worry in his voice. “You don’t know what real battle is like. It’s nothing like a one-on-one duel. It will be violent and bloody and chaotic, and you won’t have any time to think about what you’re doing. The things you’ve seen, the things you’ve experienced—nothing will have prepared you for this. Goodfellow and I will protect you as best we can, but you will have to fight, and you will have to kill. Without mercy. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.” I raised my chin and stared back, meeting his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Good.” He nodded once, and turned toward the looming forest. “Because here they come.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE CREEPING IRON

“Get ready,” Ash muttered, and drew his sword.

My hand shook as I followed his example, the blade awkward and clumsy in my grasp. Ahead of us, light glinted off swords, shields, and armor, a menacing wall of bristling faery steel. Trolls and ogres shifted impatiently, gripping their spiked clubs. Goblins and redcaps licked their pointed teeth, bloodlust shining from their eyes. Dryads, hammadryads, and oakmen waited silently, their green and brown faces tight with hate and fear. Out of all the fey, the slow corruption of the Nevernever affected them most of all and reminded me what was at stake.

I gripped the hilt of my sword, feeling the metal bite into my palm. Come on, then, I thought, as a great rustling sounded just beyond the hole—hundreds of feet, marching toward us. Branches snapped, trees shook, and the armies of Summer and Winter howled in reply. You won’t beat me. The false king isn’t going to win. Your advance stops right here.

“Here we go,” Ash growled, as with the screeching of a million knives, the Iron fey broke from the forest and came into view. Wiremen and Iron knights, clockwork hounds, spider-hags, skeletal creatures that looked like the Terminator, all shiny and metallic, and hundreds more of different shapes and sizes, pouring out of the forest in a huge, chaotic swarm. For a moment, the two armies stared at each other, hate and violence and bloodlust shining from their eyes. Then, a monstrous armored knight, horns bristling from a steel helm, stepped to the front of the army and swept an arm forward, and the Iron fey charged with hair-raising shrieks.

The Seelie and Unseelie roared in response, surging forward to meet them. Like ants, they spilled onto the battlefield, the space between them growing smaller and smaller as they closed on each other. The two armies met with the deafening screech and clang of weapons, and then everything dissolved into madness.

Ash and Puck pressed close, refusing to advance, only engaging an enemy if it attacked first. The front lines held off the worst of the battle, but gradually the Iron fey began slipping through the holes and pushing toward the back. I gripped my weapon and tried to focus, but it was hard. Everything was happening so fast, bodies whirling by, swords flashing, the shrieks and howls of the wounded. A giant praying mantis–thing lunged at me, bladed arms sweeping down, but Ash stepped in front of it and caught the edges with his sword, shoving it back. An Iron knight, dressed head to toe in plate mail, rushed me, but tripped as Puck kicked him in the knee and sent him sprawling.

Another armored knight broke through the back ranks, slicing at me with his weapon, a serrated, two-handed broad-sword. Reacting on instinct, I dodged the blow and stabbed at him with my sword. It screeched off his breastplate, leaving a shiny gash in the armor but not hurting him. The knight bellowed a laugh, confident in his victory, and lunged again, sweeping his blade across at my head. Ducking the blow, I stepped forward and plunged my sword through his visor, feeling the tip strike the back of his helm.

The knight dropped like his strings had been cut. My stomach roiled, but there was no time to think about what I’d just done. More Iron fey were pouring from the woods. I saw Oberon charge into the fray on a huge black warhorse, glamour swirling around him, and sweep a hand toward the thickest of the fighting. Vines and roots erupted from the ground, coiling around the Iron fey, strangling them or pulling them beneath the earth. Atop a rise, Mab raised her arms, and a savage whirlwind swept across the field, freezing fey solid or impaling them with ice shards. The armies of Summer and Winter howled with renewed vigor and threw themselves at the enemy.

And then, something monstrous broke through the trees, lumbering onto the field. A huge iron beetle, the size of a bull elephant, plowed into the chaos, crushing fey underfoot. Four elves with metallic, shimmering hair sat atop a platform on its back, shooting old-style muskets into the crowd. Summer and Winter fey fell under a hail of musket fire as another beetle broke through the trees. Swords and arrows bounced off the dark, shiny carapaces as the tanklike bugs waddled farther into the camp, leaving death in their wake.

“Fall back!” Oberon’s voice boomed over the field as the beetles continued their rampage. “Fall back and regroup! Go!”

As Summer and Winter forces began drawing back, a ripple of Iron glamour washed over me, coming from the bugs. Narrowing my eyes and peering through the madness, I looked closer. It was as if the bugs came into clear focus through a blurry background; I could see the Iron glamour shimmering around them, cold and colorless. The thick, bulky carapaces were near invulnerable, but the beetle’s legs were thin and spindly, barely strong enough to hold the monsters up. The joints were weak and spotted with rust…and the ghost of an idea floated through my mind.

“Ash, Puck!” I whirled on them, and their attention snapped to me. “I think I know how to take down that bug, but I need to get closer! Clear me a path!”

Puck blinked, looking incredulous. “Uh, running toward the enemy? Isn’t that like the opposite of what fall back means?”

“We have to stop those bugs before they kill half the camp!” I looked at Ash, pleading. “I can do this, but I need you to guard me when I get up there. Please, Ash.”

Ash stared at me a moment, then nodded curtly. “We’ll get you there,” he muttered, raising his sword. “Goodfellow, back me up.”

He lunged forward, against the tide of retreating fey. Puck shook his head and followed. We fought our way through the center of the field, where bodies of faeries—or what had been faeries—littered the ground. The fighting was much thicker here, and my bodyguards were hard-pressed to keep the enemy off me.

A roar of musket fire rang out, and a wyvern screeched and crashed to the ground a few yards away, flapping and thrashing. The bulk of the beetle loomed overhead, shiny black carapace blocking out the sun.

“Is this…close enough, princess?” Puck panted, locked in battle with a pair of wiremen, their razor-wire claws slashing at him. At his side, Ash snarled and crossed swords with an Iron knight, filling the air with the scream of metal.

I nodded, heart racing. “Just keep them off me for a few seconds!” I called, and turned back toward the iron bug, staring at its underside. Yes, the legs were jointed, held together by metal bolts. As a spindly leg swept by, I dodged and closed my eyes, drawing Iron glamour from the air, from the bug and the trees and the corrupted land around me. Musket fire boomed, and the screech of swords and faeries rang in my head, but I trusted my guardians to keep me safe and kept concentrating.

Opening my eyes, I focused on one of the insect’s joints, on the tiny bolt that held it together, and pulled. The nut trembled, shaking with rust, and then flew out like a cork, a brief glint of metal under the sun. The insect lurched as the leg crumpled and fell off into the mud, and then the whole beetle started to tip like an off-balanced bus.

“Yes!” I cheered, just as the wave of nausea hit. A stab of pain ripped through my stomach, and I fell to my knees, fighting the urge to vomit. A shadow engulfed me, and I looked up to see the enormous bulk of the insect falling sideways, scattering Iron fey and faeries alike, but I couldn’t move.

A blur of darkness, and then Ash grabbed me by the arm, yanking me upright. We leaped forward, as with a mighty groan, the beetle crashed to the ground and rolled over, crushing the musket elves beneath it and nearly killing me in the process. On its back, the beetle’s remaining legs kicked and flailed uselessly, and I giggled with slight hysterics. Ash muttered something inscrutable and pulled me into a brief, tight embrace.

“You enjoy making my heart stop, don’t you?” he whispered, and I felt him shaking with adrenaline or something else. Before I could form a reply, he released me and stepped back, a stoic bodyguard once more.

Panting, I gazed around to see the Iron fey drawing back, vanishing into the metal forest again. The other beetle seemed trapped under a writhing mess of vines, tangling its legs and dragging it down. The musketeers on its back had been impaled with huge spears of ice. Mab and Oberon’s doing, probably.

“Is it over?” I asked as Puck joined us, also breathing hard, his armor spattered with some icky black substance, like oil. “Did we win?”

Puck nodded, but his eyes were grim. “In a matter of speaking, princess.”

Puzzled, I looked around, and my stomach twisted. Bodies from both sides lay scattered about the field, some moaning, some still and lifeless. A few had already turned to stone, ice, dirt, branches, water, or had faded away entirely. Sometimes it happened instantly, sometimes it took hours, but faeries didn’t leave physical bodies behind when they died. They simply ceased to exist.

But, more disturbing, as I looked closer, I saw that the Iron forest had crept even closer, so much that it had spread to the center of the camp. As I watched in horror, a young green sapling turned shiny and metallic, gray poison creeping up its trunk. Several leaves snapped off and plummeted down to stick in the earth, glimmering like knives.

“It is spreading even faster now.” A shadow fell over us, and Oberon swept up on his warhorse, eyes glowing amber beneath his antlered helm. “Every battle, we are forced to fall back, to give more ground. For every Winter or Summer faery that falls, the Iron Kingdom grows, destroying all in its path. If this keeps up, there will be nothing left.” Oberon’s voice took on a sharper edge. “Also, I thought I told you to stay out of the battle, Meghan Chase. And yet, you fling yourself into the heart of danger, despite my attempts to keep you safe. Why do you continue to defy me?”

Ignoring the question, I looked to the dark forest where the last of the Iron fey were disappearing. Just beyond the tree line, I felt the Iron Kingdom crouched at the edge, eager to creep forward again, watching me with its poisoned glare. Somewhere out there, safe in his land of iron, the false king waited for me, patient and assured, knowing the courts couldn’t touch him.

“He knows I’m here now,” I murmured, feeling Oberon’s eyes on me, as well as the twin gazes of Puck and Ash, and swallowed the tremor in my voice. “I can’t stay—he’ll send everything he has at you trying to get to me.”

“When will you leave?” Oberon’s voice held no emotion. I took a quiet breath and hoped I wasn’t sending Ash and Puck straight to their deaths.

“Tonight.” As soon as I said it, I shivered violently and crossed my arms to hide my terror. “The sooner I go, the better. I guess it’s time.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN INTO THE IRON REALM

I folded the blanket carefully and placed it in the pack, next to the packages of dried fruit and nuts and the goatskin of water. Water, food, blanket, bedroll…was there anything else I needed for the camping trip to hell? I could think of a few purely human conveniences I’d kill to have right then—flashlight, aspirin, toilet paper—but Faery refused to humor my half-mortal side, so I’d have to do without.

Behind me, the tent flap opened, and Ash stood there, silhouetted against the tent wall and the eerie red light of the moon. “Ready?”

I flipped the bag shut and fumbled with the ties, cursing softly as my hands shook. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” I muttered, hoping he wouldn’t catch the tremor in my voice. The ties slipped from my fingers again, and I growled a curse.

The tent flaps closed, and a moment later his arms were around me, covering my shaking hands with his own. Closing my eyes, I relaxed into him as he bent close, his breath cool on my neck.

“I don’t want to be their assassin,” I whispered, leaning into him. He didn’t say anything, only fisted his hands over mine, drawing me closer. “I thought…when I killed Machina…I wouldn’t have to do anything like that ever again. I still have nightmares about it.” Sighing, I buried my face in his arm. “I’m not backing out. I know I have to do this, but…I’m not a killer, Ash.”

“I know,” he murmured against my skin. “And you’re not a killer. Look.” Opening his fists, he held my hands in his, stroking my palms with his thumbs. “Perfectly clean,” he said. “No stains, no blood. Trust me, if you could see mine…” He sighed and closed his fists again, curling his fingers around my own. “I would save you from my fate, if I could,” he said, so soft I barely heard him, even as close as we were. “Let me kill the false king. I have so much blood on my hands, it wouldn’t matter.”

“You would do that?”

“If I can.”

I thought about it, content to feel his arms around me. “I guess…as long as the false king dies, it doesn’t matter who kills him, right?” Ash shrugged, but I felt uncomfortable with that decision. This was my quest. I had agreed to kill the false king. The responsibility was mine, and I didn’t want anyone to have to kill for me again, especially Ash.

Although, I still didn’t know how I was going to accomplish any of this when we got there. We didn’t have a magic Witchwood arrow this time. We just had…me. “Let’s not worry about it now,” I said, not wanting to think about it anymore. “We have to reach him first, anyway.”

“Which we’ll never do if you two keep groping each other every two seconds,” Puck announced, entering the room with a swooshing of tent flaps. Blushing, I stepped away from Ash and pretended to check my pack. Puck snorted. “If you two are quite ready,” he said, pushing back the cloth, “we’re all waiting on you.”

We left the tent, stepping into the cold, still night. My breath clouded the air, and sooty flakes landed on my face and hands. On each side, lining the way to the forest, the armies of Summer and Winter watched us leave, hundreds of fey eyes glowing in the darkness. Somewhere in the camp, a wyvern screeched, but other than that, everything was silent.

Mab and Oberon stood at the edge of the crowd, both as still as the trees themselves. Beyond the rulers, the glimmering forest of steel stretched away into darkness.

“We have given you everything we can,” Oberon said as we approached, his solemn voice echoing over the crowds. “From here on, we can only wish you luck, and wait. Everything is up to you now.”

Mab raised a hand, and a goblin stepped out of the crowd to stand before us, dressed in that leafy camouflage that made him look like a bush. “Snigg will take you to the edge of the forest where it becomes the Wasteland proper,” she rasped, her gaze lingering on Ash. “Beyond that, you’re on your own. None of our scouts have ever returned from venturing deeper.”

Oberon was still watching me, his green eyes unreadable in the shadows of his face. It seemed to me that the Erlking looked tired and haggard, but that could simply be a trick of the light. “Be careful, daughter,” he said in a voice meant only for me.

I sighed. That was as much fatherly affection Oberon was going to dole out. “I will,” I told him, shifting my pack to my other shoulder. “And we won’t fail, I—” I barely stopped myself from saying “I swear,” not knowing whether I could keep that promise. “I won’t give up,” I finished instead.

He gave me a brief nod. Ash bowed to his queen, and Puck grinned at Oberon, defiant to the end. I looked down at the goblin.

“Let’s go, Snigg.”

The goblin bobbed and shuffled away into the trees, becoming nearly invisible in the brush. With Ash and Puck at my side, I stepped into the forest, following the bobbing mound of vegetation through the trees, and the camp soon faded behind us.

“I RECOGNIZE THIS,” Ash muttered after several minutes of walking. Following the goblin scout, we ducked and wove around trees whose trunks looked like they’d been covered in mercury, shiny and metallic in the dappled light. “I think I know where we are.”

“Really.” Puck sounded sarcastic. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out, prince. Granted, none of the masses knew how close they were, either, so props for knowing your history.” He snorted. “You can bet both Oberon and Mab knew it, and deliberately didn’t let on. Typical.”

“Why?” I glanced around, seeing nothing unusual—beyond the strangeness of a completely metal forest, anyway. “Where are we?”

“This is Fomorian territory,” Ash said, narrowing his eyes. “We’re heading right for Mag Tuiredh.”

I blinked at Ash. “What’s Mag Tuiredh? What are Fomorians?”

“An ancient race of giants, princess,” Puck answered, ducking a low-hanging branch. “Semiaquatic, clannish and the ugliest bastards you’d ever have the misfortune of seeing. Deformed and twisted, the lot of them. I’m talking one-armed, one-eyed terrors with hooves growing out of their heads, limbs in places they’re not supposed to be. One of their queens even had a set of teeth on each of her—”

“Okay, I think I got it.” I shuddered, skirting a bush with metal thorns growing out of it like needles. “So, are these giant things hostile? Do you think they’ve been killed by the iron?”

“Oh, they were definitely hostile,” Puck continued cheerfully. “In fact, they were so hostile, we had a war with them, long, long ago. I think it was the only other time Summer and Winter cooperated, right prince? Oh, wait, you weren’t even around yet, were you?”

“They’re extinct, Meghan,” Ash said, ignoring Puck. “They’ve been extinct for centuries. Summer and Winter completely wiped them out. Mag Tuiredh was their city. It’s nothing but ruins now, and generally everyone avoids it. It’s an evil place, full of curses and unknown monsters. One of the darker places of the Nevernever.”

“And the perfect place for the new Iron King,” I mused.

We fell silent then, for the trees abruptly fell away and the Iron Kingdom stretched out before us.

I remembered the heart of Machina’s realm, the flat, cracked plateau, spiderwebbed with lava, and the endless railroad that led to the black tower. This was different, a blasted, rocky desert with huge, jagged outcroppings and uneven hills. Looking closer, I saw that some of the hills were huge piles of junk: tires, pipes, smashed cars, rusty barrels, satellite dishes, broken computers and laptops, even the wing of an airplane. Street lamps grew out of the rocky ground or atop distant outcroppings, glimmering faintly in the haze. The corroded red moon, balanced atop two pointed ridges, seemed closer than ever.

“Interesting,” Puck remarked, crossing his arms to his chest. “You know, I used to say Fomorian territory couldn’t get any worse than it was. Nice to know I can still be proven wrong once in a while.”

Ash stepped forward, gazing around the wasteland in silence. His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face, but he was probably remembering our last trip into the Iron Kingdom. I wondered if he was already regretting his promise.

Snigg the goblin gave a feeble cough, muttered an apology, and scurried back into the forest the way we’d come, leaving us to our fate. Suddenly alarmed, I looked harder at Ash and Puck, cursing myself for not realizing sooner. We were deep in the Iron Realm now; Ash and Puck would be feeling the effects of the land, the poison that would kill them if those amulets didn’t work.

“Are you two all right? Ash? Look at me.” I grabbed the prince’s arm and turned him toward me, peering into his face. His skin seemed paler than usual, and my stomach twisted. “The amulets aren’t working, are they? I knew it. We should go back.”

“No.” Ash put his hand over mine. “It’s fine, Meghan. They’re working well enough. I can still feel the iron, but it’s bearable. Not like before.”

“Are you sure?” When he nodded, I looked from him to Puck. “What about you?”

Puck shrugged. “It’s no Shiatsu massage, princess, but I’ll live.”

I glared at them. “I know faeries can’t lie, but you two better not be saying that just so I won’t worry.” Neither of them said anything, and my anger rose. “I mean it, you two.”

“Relax, princess.” Puck shrugged defensively. “They’re working, okay? I know I’m not supposed to feel great, but I don’t feel like my insides are about to crawl up my throat, either. I’ll live. I’ve been through worse.”

“And it doesn’t matter.” Ash faced me with an air of stubborn calm. “We’d still be here, regardless. We can’t go back now. Besides, we’re wasting time.”

“I agree,” came another voice, deeper in the Iron Realm. “The protective qualities of your amulets are limited, after all. The longer you stand around doing nothing, the shorter your time becomes.”

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised. “Grimalkin,” I sighed, turning around. “Stop hiding. Where are you?”

The cat glanced up from a nearby rock, where nothing had been a second ago. “You,” he purred, regarding us lazily, “are late. Again.”

“Why are you here, Grim?”

“Is it not obvious?” Grimalkin yawned and looked at each of us in turn. “The same reason I am always here, human. To keep you from falling down a dark hole or wandering into a giant spider’s nest.”

“You can’t stay here,” I told him. “The iron will kill you and you don’t have an amulet.”

Grimalkin sniffed. “Really, human, you are incredibly dim at times. Who do you think told Mab about the amulets in the first place?” He raised his chin, just far enough for me to catch a glint of crystal beneath his wavy fur.

“You have one? How?”

The cat sat down and licked his forepaw. “Do you really wish to know, human?” he asked, giving me a sideways glance. “Be careful of your answer. Some things are better off a mystery.”

“What kind of answer is that? Of course I want to know, especially now!”

He sighed, vibrating his whiskers. “Very well. But, keep in mind, you insisted.” Putting his paw down, he sat up and curled his tail around himself, regarding me with a grave expression. “Do you remember the day Ironhorse died?”

A lump caught in my throat. Of course I did. I could never forget that night. Ironhorse charging the enemy alone so we could have a distraction; Ironhorse shielding me from a fatal blow; Ironhorse, shattered and broken on the cement floor of the warehouse. His last words. I teared up, thinking about it.

And then, I remembered Grimalkin, sitting beside the noble Iron faery just before he died, leaning close to his head. I’d thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, for I’d caught only a split-second glance before the cat was gone, but now it seemed extremely important that I remember.

My stomach felt cold. “What did you do to him, Grim?”

“Nothing.” Grimalkin faced me with an unblinking stare. “Nothing that he had not already agreed to. I knew I would have to go into the Iron Realm sooner or later, and Ironhorse knew he could very well die on his quest to help you. He was prepared for it. We came to…an understanding.”

“Oh my God.” The realization hit me like a hammer, and I gaped at the cat. “That’s him in there, isn’t it? You used Ironhorse for your amulet.” I felt sick and staggered away from the cait sith, bumping into Ash. “How could you?” I whispered, actually beginning to shake. “Is everything a contract to you? Ironhorse was our friend, I would have died without his help. Or don’t you care that you’re using him like a battery?”

“Ironhorse was prepared to give up everything for you, human.” Grimalkin narrowed his eyes to golden slits, staring me down. “He wanted this. He wanted a way to protect you if he were no longer here. You should be grateful. I would not have done the same. Because of his sacrifice, the quest can continue.” The cat rose and leaped from the rock, turning to stare at us over his shoulder.

“Well?” he asked, waving his tail. “Are you coming or not?”

I scowled and took a few steps forward. “Where do you think you’re taking us?”

He twitched an ear. “Ironhorse told me, should I ever find myself in the Iron Realm with you, to look for an old friend of his. The Clockmaker, I believe was his name. And he is fairly close. Lucky for us.”

“Why go to the Clockmaker? Why not just look for the false king?”

“Ironhorse implied that this was important, human.” Grimalkin blinked and sat down, thumping his tail impatiently. “But, if you do not think so, by all means go wandering about until the amulets lose their power and you are completely lost. Or, was that your plan all along?”

I glanced at the boys. They both shrugged. “Seems as good a plan as any,” Puck said, rolling his eyes. “If the cat knows where he’s going, that is. I’d hate to get lost in here.”

Grimalkin sniffed, curling his whiskers in disdain. “Please, do not insult me. Lost? Since when have I ever led you wrong?”

I sighed. “Here we go again.”

AFTER A NIGHT OF WALKING, I realized just how big the Fomorian city was.

I’d imagined Mag Tuiredh as a city of sprawling ruins: crumbled stone walls, half-erect buildings, and just a scattering of large rocks where a castle once stood. And perhaps, if it had been in the real world, that’s all it would have been. But in the Nevernever, where age and time didn’t exist and even the structures resisted the concept of decay, Mag Tuiredh loomed tall and threatening in the hazy distance, black towers belching smoke into the mottled yellow sky.

“How old is this city?” I asked, shielding my eyes to peer across the barren landscape. Even through the mottled yellow-gray clouds, the light still glinted off a thousand metallic things, flashing in the sun and blinding me. Puck and Grimalkin had seen some movement in the rocks, and were scouting around to find the source of it.

“No one really knows,” Ash replied, his gaze sweeping over the landscape. “The Fomorians were here before us, and their city was already massive. Back then, Mag Tuiredh sat half in and half out of the mortal realm, in a place known today as Ireland. Because humans still worshipped us as gods and the Nevernever was still very young, many faery races preferred to live in the mortal realm. The Fomorians had already enslaved several lesser races, and tried to do the same to us. Naturally, we didn’t take very kindly to that.”

“So there was a war.”

“One that rocked the foundations of both realms. In the end, Mag Tuiredh was pulled completely into the Nevernever, and the Fomorians were driven into the sea. That was the last anyone saw of them. At least, that’s the story I’ve heard.”

“But if they’re gone…” I looked back to the city and the dark smoke boiling into the sky “…why are those things still smoking?”

“I don’t know.” Ash shifted his gaze to the distant towers. “Mag Tuiredh supposedly sat empty for thousands of years, but who knows what it’s been turned into now. Judging from that smoke, I would say Mag Tuiredh is no longer uninhabited.”

“Bad news.” Puck suddenly dropped from an overhead slab, landing beside us with a poof of dust. “We’re being followed. Grim and I saw something that looked like a giant metal insect, buzzing along behind us. I tried to catch the little bastard, but it saw me coming and booked it.”

“You think there are more of them?” Ash tensed and dropped his hand to his sword, probably remembering the gremlin hoard swarming him in the mines on our first trip here. Puck’s eyes darkened, and he shook his head.

“Dunno. But I think someone knows we’re here.”

Grim popped into view on a rock, twitching his tail. His wispy gray fur stood on end like he’d just come out of a dryer with horrible static cling. “There is a storm coming. We should seek cover.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a flash of lightning lit the sky and the air filled with the tang of ozone.

The hairs on my neck stood up. “Grim,” I gasped, whirling on the feline, “get us out of here! We have to find shelter now!”

Whether it was my terrified look or the panic in my voice, the cat didn’t dawdle this time. We fled, scrambling over dirt and rock, while above us the sky turned from yellow-gray to black in a matter of seconds. Sharp-smelling wind whipped at our clothes and made my eyes water, and the air around us felt charged with electricity. A thread of green lightning slashed the sky, and the first drops began to fall.

A searing pain stabbed me in the thigh, and I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming, knowing one of the acidic drops had just hit me. Somewhere behind us, Puck yelped in shock and surprise. My stomach churned, and I could no longer see the cat in the darkness and rising wind.

“Grimalkin!” I yelled in desperation.

“This way!” The cat’s yowl cut through the growing storm, and two glowing eyes suddenly appeared at the mouth of a cave in the side of a cliff. The cave was so well hidden, blending perfectly into the landscape, that had Grimalkin not been there I never would’ve seen it.

Another drop hit my forehead, sliding down my cheek, and this time I did scream as a line of fire slashed down my skin. I could hear the hiss of the rain striking all around us, and I threw myself into the cave, followed by Ash and Puck, just as the sky opened with a roar and the rain poured down.

Gasping, I lay on my back on the sandy floor, watching the storm sweep the land, while Ash and Puck leaned against the cave wall, panting.

“Well, that was…different,” Puck gasped. “What the hell is that anyway?”

“Acid rain,” I said, not having the will to push myself off the floor just yet. My face throbbed, and the sand was cool against my cheek. “We ran into it on our first trip here, too. Not fun.”

“Welcome to the wonders of the Iron Kingdom,” Ash muttered, and pushed himself off the wall, coming to kneel beside me. I took his hand and let him pull me into a sitting position.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing the hair from my face, lifting it away from the burn. His fingers hovered over the wound, and I flinched despite myself, causing him to sigh. I saw Puck watching us over Ash’s shoulder, and blushed self-consciously, suddenly desperate to break the tension.

“So, tell me the truth,” I said, only half joking. “Will it scar? Will I have to wear a mask like the Phantom of the Opera, to hide my hideous face?”

Ash shrugged off his pack, and a moment later a cool, familiar-smelling salve touched my cheek, soothing the fiery pain. “I think you’ll be fine,” he said, smiling faintly. “No battle scars for you, at least not today.” His hand lingered on my face a moment more before he rose, drawing me to my feet. Puck snorted and walked away, pretending to examine the cave.

Grimalkin strutted by, tail in the air, oblivious to the rising tension. “The rain will not let up anytime soon,” he said as he passed, “so I suggest you get some rest while you can. I also suggest one of you take watch. We do not want to be surprised if the owner of this cave returns while we are asleep.”

“Good idea,” Puck echoed from the back of the cave. “Why don’t you take first watch, prince? You could actually be doing something that doesn’t make me want to gouge my eyes out with a spork.”

Ash’s lips curled in a smirk. “I would think you’re better suited to the task, Goodfellow,” he said without turning around. “After all, that’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? Watching?”

“Oh, keep it up, ice-boy. You’re gonna have to sleep sometime.”

I rolled my eyes at them. “Fine. You two fight it out—I’m going to try to get some sleep.” Unshouldering my pack, I stalked to a corner, dumped out the contents, and unrolled my sleeping bag. Lying on the sandy floor, I listened to Ash and Puck’s back-and-forth banter as they set up camp, throwing out insults and challenges. Strangely, it seemed more normal than it had been until now, and I fell asleep to their voices and the sound of the rain.

HE WAS WAITING FOR ME in my dreams again.

I sighed. “Machina,” I said, facing the Iron King, my voice nearly lost in the surrounding void, “why are you here? I thought I told you to leave me alone. I don’t need you.”

“No,” he murmured, smiling as his cables cloaked him in a cage of glimmering steel. “That is not true. You’ve come far, but you’re still not there yet, Meghan Chase. You still need me.”

“I don’t.” I didn’t move as he approached, the cables reaching out to snake around me. “I’m stronger now than when we first met. I’m learning to control the magic you left me with.” With a thought, I pushed the cables away, causing them to rear back in surprise.

“You still don’t understand.” Machina withdrew his extensions, folding them like shimmery wings behind his back. “You use the magic like a tool, like a sword that you swing in awkward circles, cutting wildly at those around you. If you are to win, you must embrace it fully, make it a part of you. If you would only let me show you how.”

“You’ve given me enough,” I said bitterly. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it. If you were alive, I would be happy if you took it back.”

“I could not.” Machina regarded me with depthless black eyes. “The power of the Iron King can be given, or it can be lost. It cannot be taken.”

I frowned. “Then…why is the false king trying to kill me? If the power can only be given away, why is he trying to take it by force?”

Machina shook his head. “The false king has never learned how a king is chosen. Believing he can wrench the power from you by force, he has become blind in his obsession. He does not realize his actions only make him less worthy.”

“If I die…then the power is lost?”

Machina nodded. “Unless you give it away yourself, or it chooses a new successor.”

“Can’t I just give it away now?”

“No,” Machina said flatly. “If the power is to be given, it must be given at the moment of death. When the bearer knows they are going to die, only then will the power leave the body. If the bearer dies without choosing a successor, the power will lie dormant, waiting, until someone comes along who is worthy to bear it. But no, you cannot just give it away whenever you please.” Machina sounded faintly insulted at the thought. “Besides, Meghan Chase, who would you give it to? Who would you find worthy enough to carry that burden?”

“I suppose that means you somehow found me worthy,” I muttered, “though I really wish you wouldn’t have bothered.”

The Iron King only smiled.

“I will be here,” he murmured, fading away, his brightness becoming less and less, though his voice still echoed in the void. “You cannot win without me, Meghan Chase. Until we are one, you are destined to lose this war.”

I OPENED MY EYES TO SILENCE. The rain had stopped, and a warm furry weight was pressed against my ribs, vibrating with purrs. Careful not to disturb Grimalkin, I rose and pushed back the covers, gazing around the cave. Puck lay on his back in the corner, tangled in blankets, one arm flung over his eyes. A jackhammer snore echoed from his open mouth, and I grimaced.

Ash stood at the cave mouth, silhouetted black against the cloudy sky, gazing out at the distant city. From the sickly light coming in, I guessed it was mid to late afternoon. By the subtle tilt of Ash’s head, I knew he’d heard me, but he didn’t turn around.

Padding up behind him, I slipped my arms around his waist. His hands folded over mine, lacing our fingers together, and we stood like that for a moment, breathing in tandem, me listening to his heart through his armor.

“Are you all right?” His deep voice vibrated in my ear, pressed against his back.

“Fine.” I pulled back to stare at the back of his head. “Why? Reading my emotions again, are you?”

“You were talking in your sleep,” he continued solemnly. “I wasn’t listening, but you said ‘Machina’ once or twice.” He paused, and my heart flip-flopped in my chest. “It’s the Iron Kingdom, isn’t it?” Ash went on. “Being back here, it’s making you remember.”

“Yeah,” I lied, pressing my face to his back. I didn’t want to tell him about my conversations with the old Iron King, whom we had killed on our last trip here but who was supposedly lurking inside me. “It was just a nightmare, Ash. Don’t worry about me.”

“That’s my job now,” he replied, so soft I barely heard it. “Meghan, don’t be afraid to ask for help. You’re not alone. Remember that.”

I squirmed uncomfortably, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on my feelings of guilt. “So, this knight-and-lady thing,” I said to change the subject. “Do you have to do what I say? Or is it more of a strong suggestion? If I ordered you to…I don’t know…stand on your head, would you do it?”

I wasn’t trying to be serious, but he hesitated, and I wondered if I touched on a sore subject. “You know my True Name now,” he said after a moment. “Technically, yes, if you order me by use of my full name, I would be forced to obey. But…” He paused again. I’d never heard him sound so unsure. “The understanding is that it will never come to that. That…the lady trusts the knight enough to…”

“Ash,” I interrupted. “Turn around.”

He obeyed, spinning slowly to face me, his expression carefully guarded. Lacing my hands behind his neck, I pulled him down and kissed him. For just a moment, he was stiff and unyielding, but then he relaxed and his arms slid around my waist, drawing us closer.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered when we pulled back. “I don’t want you to regret…being here with me, being my knight and all.”

He ran his fingers through my hair, brushing it from my cheek. “If I’d thought I would regret it,” he said calmly, “I never would have made that oath. I knew what becoming a knight would mean. And if you asked me again, the answer would be the same.” He sighed, framing my face with his hands. “My life…everything I am…belongs to you.”

My eyes prickled as Ash leaned in and kissed me.

A particularly loud snore came from the cave, and the lump in the corner rolled toward us suspiciously. Ash sighed again, drawing back after giving the “sleeping” Puck a resigned look. “We should leave soon,” he murmured, glancing toward the city. “If we go now, we can reach Mag Tuiredh before nightfall. Also, I saw Puck’s metal insect, flying around out there. It’s definitely following us. And if it does attack, I’d rather be able to see it coming than have to fight it in the dark.”

I shivered and dropped my gaze, staring at the amulet on his chest. The crystal was no longer perfectly clear. Inside, the swirls were silvery and metallic, like the mercury inside a thermometer. It gave me a chill, like staring at the falling grains of an hourglass, reminding me that his time in the Iron Realm was limited. “Right,” I said, breaking away. “Let’s get going then. Puck, I know you’re awake. We’re leaving.”

“Oh, thank God.” Puck snorted and hopped to his feet. “I was afraid I’d have to listen to you two slobber all morning. I’m already feeling slightly sick—please don’t make it worse.”

“Indeed,” Grimalkin added from the mouth of the cave, though he had been sleeping on my blanket a second before. “Let us go. We are running out of time.”

Quickly, we gathered our supplies and set out again. The looming Fomorian city beckoned in the distance.

As we left the cave, following Grim and Puck over the rocks, I caught a shimmer from the corner of my eye, like a heat wave, darting behind a boulder. I stopped and glanced back, but empty sand and rock greeted me when I turned my head.

“Did you see it?” Ash muttered as we started down the dusty path again.

Frowning, I glared around the landscape, wincing as the sun flashed off the random metallic objects scattered everywhere. “I don’t know. I thought I saw…something. Like a shimmer almost, but a clear one. You saw it?”

He nodded, his hunter’s gaze never still, constantly scanning. “Something is tracking us,” he said in a low voice. “Goodfellow knows it, too. Keep alert. We could run into trouble soo—”

It attacked from the top of a boulder, leaping at us with a scream. One second, there was nothing. The next, that strange shimmer rippled through the air again, and something slammed into me, raking my armor with invisible claws that screeched against the dragon-scale. I staggered back as a long feline shape, large as a cougar and translucent as glass, leaped away from Ash’s sword and darted into the rocks again.

I drew my sword with a raspy screech as Puck pulled his daggers, his eyes darting around the empty landscape. “Anyone wanna tell me what that was?” he said, just as a second transparent cat-thing leaped at him from the opposite direction. I yelled and he ducked, the cat barely missing him. Landing in a spray of dust, it bounded into the rocks and vanished.

We moved to stand back-to-back, weapons out in front of us, searching for a glimpse of our invisible assailants. No, I thought, not invisible, that didn’t make sense, not in the Iron Kingdom. Grimalkin could become invisible, using normal glamour to do so—in fact, he had already disappeared. Regular glamour was the magic of illusion and myth, things the Iron fey could not work with, so how were they hiding their presence? What was the logical explanation?

There was a blur as the monster cats attacked again, rushing in from opposite sides. I didn’t see them until one was right on top of me, and I felt hooked claws raking my side. They were frighteningly quick. Thankfully, the dragon-scale armor held, screeching and sparking in protest, but the cat darted away again before I could react.

Puck snarled a curse, swiping at empty air as the second cat flashed behind the rocks once more and was gone. Blood dripped down his arm to spatter in the dust; he hadn’t been as lucky, and my desperation grew.

Think, Meghan! There had to be an explanation. Iron fey couldn’t use regular glamour, so how could a solid creature appear invisible? I could feel the Iron glamour circling around us, cold, patient, and calculating, and suddenly I understood.

“They’re cloaking,” I said, as the pieces clicked into place. “They’re using Iron glamour to twist the light around themselves so they appear invisible.” I felt a thrill of discovery, of knowing I was right. All those years of watching Star Trek had finally paid off.

Ash spared me a split-second glance. “Can you use it to see which direction they’re coming from?”

“I’ll try.”

Closing my eyes, I reached out, searching for our attackers, expanding my senses until…there. I could feel them in my mind, two clear, cat-shaped blobs of glamour, creeping forward along the ground just a few yards away. One was edging up on Ash, muscles quivering, and leaped forward with a shriek.

“Ash, high left! Seven o’ clock!”

Ash whirled, exploding into motion. I heard a yowl, and the cat shape in my mind split in two just before something hot and wet splashed over my face.

Not stopping to think or gag, I saw the second cat leap straight at me, claws extended, aiming for my neck this time. My sword came up, and the monster slammed into my chest, its leap carrying it right onto the blade. The cat’s weight knocked me backward to sprawl in the dust, driving the air from my lungs with a painful gasp.

For a few seconds, I could only lie there with my mouth gaping, crushed under the body of the killer feline. Up close, the dead cat was a strange metallic gray, its fur short and shiny like a mirror. But its teeth were the same yellow ivory of all big cats, pointed and lethal, and its breath stank of rotten meat and battery acid. That was all I noticed before Ash dragged the huge feline off me and Puck pulled me to my feet.

“Well, that was fun.” Puck wore one of his sarcastic grimaces. “You okay, princess?”

“Yeah.” I gave Ash a quick smile to ease the worry on his face, and turned to Puck again. “I’m fine—but you’re bleeding, Puck!”

“What, this?” Puck grinned. “It’s just a scratch.” His grin turned into a grimace as I sat him down on a rock and started tearing off his sleeve. His arm was a mess, blood everywhere, and I could see the four nasty claw marks that ran from his elbow to wrist. I winced in sympathy.

“Ash, I’m going to need some of that salve you brought,” I muttered, dabbing away the blood. When he didn’t move, I turned on him, narrowing my eyes. “All right, I’m tired of this. I know you two don’t get along, but you need to figure something out or we’re never going to make it out of here alive.”

I received a rather cold stare, but he opened his bag and dug out the jar, handing it to me stiffly. Puck settled back on the rock, grinning as I bent over his arm.

“You’re good at this, princess,” he purred, shooting Ash a smug grin over my shoulder. “Been watching ice-boy, or are you just a natural caretaker? I could get used to—ow!”

He glared as I tied off the bandage with a jerk.

“Don’t push your luck,” I warned him, and he gave me a huge, doe-eyed look full of innocence. It was the first glimpse of the old Puck I’d seen in a long time, and it made me smile.

As I was gathering the medical supplies, Grimalkin appeared again, wrinkling his nose at the dead cats. “Barbarians,” he sniffed, leaping down from the rock, giving the bodies a wide berth as he trotted up. “Human, you might want to know that there are certainly other creatures that will be attracted by the commotion. I would advise you to hurry.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN THE CLOCKMAKER

We reached the Fomorian city just as the sun was going down.

Mag Tuiredh was enormous. Not just sprawling, but huge. As in I-feel-like-I’ve-been shrunk-to-the-size-of-a-mouse huge. Like Jack-in-the-Beanstalk huge. Everything was giant-size: doorways were twenty feet tall, streets were wide enough to drive a plane through, and steps were my height. Whomever the Fomorians were, I hoped that they were really gone as Ash said.

The city was ancient; I could feel it as we made our way through the mossy ruins, which towered like broken giants overhead. The original buildings were made of rough stone, but the Iron Realm’s corruption was everywhere. Broken street lamps popped up at odd intervals, grown right out of the ground and flickering erratically. Cables and computer wires snaked up walls, spread across the streets, and coiled around everything, as if trying to choke the life from the old city. In the distance, near the center of Mag Tuiredh, black smokestacks loomed over everything, belching smog into the hazy sky.

“So, where do we find this Clockmaker?” Puck asked as we walked through a square filled with strange metallic trees. The trees were in full bloom, not with flowers or fruit, but with lightbulbs that glowed with eerie brightness. A fountain in the middle of the square bubbled a thick, shiny black liquid that might’ve been oil.

Grimalkin looked back at us, eyes shining in the gloom. “The most obvious place possible,” he said, and turned his gaze skyward.

Over the tops of the buildings, rising up toward the clouds like a dark needle, a giant clock tower peered down on the city with a face like a numbered moon.

“Oh.” Puck craned his neck back, staring at the huge timepiece. “Well, that’s…ironic.” He scratched the back of his head and frowned. “I hope the Clockmaker is still awake. He probably doesn’t get a lot of visitors after nine p.m.”

Something about that statement put me on edge, even more so when I looked at Ash, who was staring at the clock in growing horror. “It shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, shaking his head. “How is it even working? Time doesn’t exist in the Nevernever, but that thing is recording the passing of it, keeping track. With every second it records, the Nevernever gets older.”

I remembered the way my watch stopped on my first trip to Faery, and looked at Grim in alarm. “Is that true?”

The cat blinked. “I am not an expert on the Iron Realm, human. Even I cannot give you the answers to everything.” Raising a hind leg, he scratched inside an ear, then contemplated his back toes. “But, remember this—nothing lives forever. Even the Nevernever has an age, though no one can remember what it is. That clock is not recording anything new.”

“It should be destroyed,” Ash muttered, still glaring at it.

“I would refrain from angering its keeper until we secure his help.” Grimalkin stood, stretched, then suddenly went rigid. Ears twitching, he stood motionless for a moment, listening for something beyond the circle of trees. The hair slowly rose along his back, and I gulped, knowing he was seconds away from disappearing.

“Grim?”

The cat’s ears flattened. “They are all around us,” he hissed, just before he vanished.

We drew our weapons.

Thousands of green eyes pierced the darkness, razor grins shining like neon-blue fire, as a huge hoard of gremlins poured into the light. Like ants, the swarm flowed over the ground, buzzing and hissing in their static voices, to surround us. We stood back-to-back, a tiny circle of open ground in a sea of little black monsters with grinning fangs and glowing eyes.

Thousands of voices chattered at me, like a hundred radios turned on all at once. The noise was deafening, nonsensical, high buzzing voices grating in my ears. But the gremlins didn’t attack. They stood there, dancing or hopping in place, teeth flashing like razors, but they moved no closer.

“What are they doing?” Puck asked. He had to yell to be heard.

“I don’t know!” I replied. The cacophony was giving me a headache; my ears were ringing, and it seemed the noise got even worse at the sound of my voice. Without even thinking about it, I raised my head and yelled “Shut up!” into the hoard of gremlins.

Silence descended instantly. You could’ve heard a cricket chirp.

Wide-eyed, I shared a glance with Ash and Puck. “Why are they listening to me?” I whispered. Ash narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know, but can you do it again?”

“Back off,” I tried, taking a step forward. A whole section of gremlins scooted backward, keeping the same distance between us. Another step, and they did the same thing. I blinked.

“Okay, this is creepy. Go away?” I asked, but this time the gremlins didn’t move, and some of them hissed at me. I backed up. “Well, I guess I can only push them so far.”

“Don’t ask them to leave,” Ash murmured behind me. “Tell them.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He nodded. I swallowed and faced the hoard again, hoping they wouldn’t decide to swarm me like angry piranhas. “Get out of here!” I told them, raising my voice. “Now!”

The gremlins hissed and crackled and screeched in protest, but withdrew, flowing backward like the tide, until we were alone in an empty square.

“How…interesting,” Grimalkin mused, back to being visible again. “It is almost as if they were waiting for you.”

“That was weird,” I agreed, rubbing my arms, where I could still feel the vibrations of the gremlins buzzing on my skin. The gremlins were listening to me now, just like they had with Machina. Since I had the power of the Iron King, they probably thought I was their new master, disturbing as that was. I certainly didn’t want a hoard of creepy little monsters following me around, laughing and causing trouble. The whole incident put me on edge, and I was eager to get out of the city. “Come on,” I said. “I think we should keep moving.”

WE CONTINUED, HEADING TOWARD the tower where the huge clock kept watch over the city. Everywhere we went, I could feel the gremlins’ eyes on me and hear them skittering in the shadows. Did they want something from me? Or were they just curious? Apart from the gremlins, Mag Tuiredh seemed devoid of life. But that didn’t explain the smoking towers in the distance, or the flashes of Iron glamour I felt all around me.

The farther we ventured into Mag Tuiredh, the more “modern” the city became. Rusty steel buildings sat among the ancient ruins, thick black wires ran over our heads, and neon lights glimmered from the tops of roofs and corners. Smog writhed along the streets and sidewalks, adding an eerie, creepy feel to the dead city. I wondered where all the Iron fey were. Not that I wanted to run into any, but in a city this big, you would think there’d be at least a few.

When we reached the base of the clock tower, I was amazed at how huge it was; a tower of steel and glass and metal, sitting among ancient ruins that were gigantic themselves, looming over them all. But the door to the tower was human-size, bronze and copper and covered with gears that clanked and spun as I wrenched it open.

An endless staircase ran the length of the walls, spiraling up into blackness. Ropes and pulleys dangled from thick metal beams, and monstrous gears spun lazily in the huge expanse of the middle. It was, obviously enough, like being inside a giant clock.

“This way,” came Grimalkin’s voice, and we followed the cat up the twisting staircase until he vanished somewhere above us. The stairs had no railings, and I hugged the wall as we went higher into the clock, the floor just a shrinking stone square far, far below.

Finally, the staircase ended in a balcony that overlooked the long drop to the bottom. Directly overhead was the wooden ceiling, and in the center of the balcony, a ladder led up to a square trapdoor, the kind you would push on to get into the attic. Puck climbed the ladder, jiggled the trapdoor, and when he discovered it wasn’t locked, eased it open so he could peer through the crack. A moment later, he pushed it back all the way and motioned the rest of us up.

A cozy, cluttered room greeted us as we eased through the trapdoor, being careful not to make any noise. The floors and walls were all made of wood, with the far wall showing the back of the enormous clock face. Several tables ran through the room, every square inch of them taken up by timepieces of various sizes and designs. The walls were also covered with them. Cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks, wooden clocks, sleek metal clocks—you name it, this place had it. All the clock faces showed a different time; none of them were the same. An endless ticking filled the air, and the occasional tweet, chime, or dong echoed throughout the room. If I stayed here long enough, I would go insane in a very short while.

The Clockmaker, whoever he was, was nowhere to be seen. A stuffed green chair sat in the corner, an island of comfort in the sea of clutter, though at the moment it was far from empty.

A huge, mirror-coated feline lay curled up on the cushion, breathing deeply as if asleep. Definitely not Grimalkin; I recognized the same type of creature that had attacked us on our way to the city. Before I could decide what to do, slitted emerald eyes opened and the cat bolted upright with a snarl.

We drew our swords, the screech of blades nearly drowned out by the sudden booming of a grandfather clock in the corner. The cat hissed and immediately rippled out of sight. I quickly reached for my own magic, trying to see where the cat went, ready to yell out instructions to Ash and Puck. But instead of attacking, the cat-shaped spot of glamour leaped onto a table, miraculously avoiding the many clocks that littered the surface, and bounded from the room, vanishing though a small entrance in the back.

“There you are,” said a voice. “Right on time.”

A small, hunched creature pushed aside a curtain and came waddling down the rows of tables. He was half my height and wore a bright red vest with several pocket watches adorning the fabric. His head was a cross between human and mouse, with large round ears, bright beady eyes, and a mustache that looked suspiciously like whiskers. A thin, tufted tail swayed behind him as he walked, and a pair of tiny gold glasses perched on the end of his nose.

“Hello, Meghan Chase,” he greeted, hopping onto a stool and pulling a watch out of his vest, observing it sagely. “It is very good to meet you at last. I would put on a pot of tea, but I’m afraid you have no time to stay and chat. Pity.” He blinked at my silence, then must’ve noticed the wary looks of my companions. “Oh, don’t mind Ripple. I keep him around for the gremlins. Nasty little things, gremlins, always getting into the gear heads, throwing everything off. Now, Meghan Chase…” He put his watch away and folded his long fingers to his chest, gazing up at me. “Our time is fading fast. Why have you come?”

I gave a start. “What…don’t you know? You already knew my name, and when I was coming.”

“Of course.” The Clockmaker twitched his whiskers. “Of course I knew what time you would get here, girl. Just as I know what time Goodfellow will knock over my nineteenth-century French mantle clock.” Puck jerked up at this, bumping a table and sending a clock crashing to the floor. “To the second,” the Clockmaker sighed, closing his eyes. Opening them again, he observed me with a piercingly bright gaze, ignoring Puck as he quickly put the clock back on the table, trying to piece it together again. “I see how everything starts, and the exact moment its time runs out. But that was not my question, Meghan Chase. I know why you are here. The question is, do you?”

I shared a look with Ash, who shrugged. “I’m looking for the false king,” I said, wincing as Puck dropped something small and shiny with a curse, sending it rolling across the floor. “Ironhorse said you might be able to help.”

“Ironhorse?” The Clockmaker’s whiskers trembled, and he hopped down from the stool, waddling across the room. “I saw when his clock stopped, when his time finally ran out. He was one of the great ones, though his fate was tied directly to King Machina. When Machina’s seconds trickled away, it was only a matter of time before Ironhorse stopped, too.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the thought of Ironhorse. “We need to find the false king,” I said. “Do you know where he is?”

“No.” The Clockmaker sniffed, picking up a bolt and frowning at it. “I do not.”

I blew out my breath in a huff. “Then why are we here?”

“All in good time, my dear. All in good time.” Shooing Puck away from the table, the Clockmaker turned to his work. His long fingers flew over the clock, barely distinguishable blurs, like he was typing something in fast-forward. “I told you, girl, I know the time things happen, and when they end. I do not know the reasons why. Nor do I know the location of the false king.” He straightened, fishing in his vest to pull out a white cloth, which he used to polish the once-broken clock. “However, I do know this. You will find him, and find him soon. Your destiny, and the destiny of many others, are shown in the faces of the clocks, ticking away together. So, you see, girl.” He picked up the clock and hopped from the stool, pausing to stare at me with beady eyes. “You already know everything you need to find him.”

I bit down my impatience. This was useless. And every second we wasted here, Puck and Ash’s amulets were corroding, succumbing to the poison of the Iron Realm. “Please,” I told the Clockmaker, “we don’t have much…time. If you say you can help us, do it now so we can be on our way.”

“Yes,” agreed the Clockmaker, turning to face me fully. “Now it is time.”

He reached into his vest, and pulled out a large iron key on a silk ribbon. “This is yours,” he said solemnly, handing it over. “Keep it safe. Do not lose it, for you will need it soon.”

I took the key, watching it spin and dangle in the light. “What is it for?”

“I do not know.” The Clockmaker blinked at my frown. “As I said, girl; I only know the when of a thing. I do not know the hows and whys. But I do know this: in one hundred and sixty-one hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-two seconds, you will need that key.”

“A hundred and sixty hours? That’s several days from now. How am I supposed to keep track?”

“Take this.” The Clockmaker reached into the other side of his vest and drew forth a pocket watch, spinning hypnotically on a gold chain. “Everyone should have a time device,” he stated as he handed it to me. “I do not know how the oldbloods do it, never worrying about time. I would find it simply maddening. So, I give this to you.”

“I…um…appreciate it.”

His whiskers twitched. “I am sure you do. Oh, and one last thing. That watch you hold, Meghan Chase? Its life span is drawing to a close. Thirty-two minutes and twelve seconds from the time you use that key, it will cease to run.”

I felt a chill in the warm, cozy room. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” the Clockmaker said, his beady eyes never blinking as they stared at me, “that in one hundred and sixty-one hours, forty-five minutes, and fifty-eight seconds, something will happen to make that watch stop.

“Now.” He smiled at me—at least, I think he did—beneath his whiskers and gave me a slight bow. “I believe our time together has come to an end. Good luck to you, Meghan Chase,” he said as he waddled out of the room. “Remember, it ends at the beginning. And give my regards to the first lieutenant, when you see him.” He pushed aside the curtains over the door, slipped through, and was gone.

I sighed. Threading the key through the watch’s chain, I looped the whole thing around my neck. “Just once, I’d like it if a faery could give me a straight answer,” I muttered as Ash pulled up the trapdoor again. “Seems to me this whole trip was a waste of time, time we don’t have. And where the hell is Grimalkin? Maybe he could make some sense of everything, if he didn’t keep disappearing every time I turn around.”

“I am right here, human.” Grimalkin appeared on the chair, curled up much as the larger cat had been. His tail thumped the cushion irritably. “Where I was for much of the conversation. It is not my fault you cannot see past the end of your nose.” With an offended air, the cat leaped from the cushion and slipped out the trapdoor, not stopping to look back.

Great, now the cat was mad at me. Knowing Grimalkin, I’d have to beg and plead for him to tell us what he knew, or offer up my firstborn son or something.

Frustrated, I stomped back down the stairs, Ash and Puck trailing behind. Outside, the city glittered with lights, both natural and artificial, but except for the gremlins, chattering and buzzing in the shadows, the streets themselves were empty. I wondered how much time we had lost, coming here. I wondered, despite Grimalkin’s assurances, if it had really been necessary.

“Where to now?” Ash mused, looking at me. “Do we have a destination?”

“Yes,” I said decisively, almost relieved to be back on track. “The tower.”

“The tower? Machina’s tower?”

I nodded. “That’s the only place I know of to find the false king. The Clockmaker said so himself—it ends at the beginning. Everything started with him. Machina’s tower is where we have to go.”

“Sounds good to me,” Puck said, crossing his arms. “We have a plan. Finally. So, uh…how do we get there? I don’t see any information booths selling maps.”

I closed my eyes, trying to remember the Iron King’s tower and the path we took to get there. I saw the railroad, cutting straight through a flat obsidian plain, lava pools and smokestacks littering the ground. I remembered walking down that road with Ash, the sun glaring in our faces, toward the stark black monolith rising in the distance.

“East,” I muttered, opening my eyes. “Machina’s tower is in the very center of the Iron Realm. If we head east, we should be able to find it.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN ECHOES OF THE PAST

We walked for nearly two days, stopping only to catch a few hours of exhausted sleep before heading eastward again. Following the rising sun, we traveled through a marsh of bubbling oil, where the rusty hulls of cars lay rotting in the sludge, through a forest of street lamps and telephone poles, where strange electrical birds flitted from wire to wire, leaving sparks in their wake. We walked past “the Valley of Worms,” as Puck called it, a gully filled with thousands of discarded computers, crawling with huge worms, some bigger than pythons, their metallic blue hides lit with hundreds of blinking lights and sparks. Thankfully, they seemed blind to, or uncaring of, our presence, but my heart was still pounding against my ribs miles after we left the Valley of Worms behind.

As we traveled, I began to feel a strange pulse from the land, faint at first, but growing stronger the farther we went. As if something was calling to me, drawing me close like the pull of a magnet. And the eerie thing was, if I closed my eyes and really concentrated, I could feel the center of the Iron Realm, like an invisible bull’s-eye in my mind. I didn’t mention it to Ash and Puck, unsure if it was just a crazy hunch, but I caught Grimalkin watching me once or twice, glowing cat eyes serious and thoughtful, as if he knew something was going on.

On the second day, we reached the edge of a vast desert, a sea of sand dunes, rising and falling with the wind. I’d never seen the ocean, but I imagined it must be something like this, only with water instead of sand, sprawling and endless, stretching away into the horizon. To our left, a wall of sheer black cliffs soared up over the dunes, and wind-pushed waves crashed against the jagged rocks, spraying dust into the air like sea foam.

“Are you sure we’re still going the right way, princess?” Puck asked, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. I gazed out over the dunes, squinting in the harsh light, and felt a pulse somewhere on the other side, the beacon that was calling me.

“Yes.” I nodded. “We’re still on track. Let’s keep moving.”

The desert and the cliffs seemed to go on forever. Just walking through the sand proved challenging; though it held our weight, we still sank into the dunes, up to our knees sometimes, as if the desert wanted to swallow us whole. Every so often, the sand hills would be swept away by the wind, revealing what lay beneath. Strange items rose to the surface, like driftwood bobbing in the waves. Everything from socks to pens, forks and spoons, keys, earrings, wallets, Matchbox cars, and an endless amount of coins, were unearthed for just a moment, glinting in the light, before the sand curled over them once more, hiding them from view.

Once, out of curiosity, I bent and scooped a bright pink cell phone out of the sand, flipping it open. Of course, the batteries were long dead, and the screen was dark, but there was a faded sticker on the front, a Hello Kitty with Japanese kanji beneath. I wondered how it got here. It obviously had belonged to somebody at one time. Had they simply lost it?

“Thinking of making a call, princess?” Puck asked as he caught up to me and raised an eyebrow at the phone in my hand. “Reception out here probably sucks. Though, if you do get a signal, try ordering for pizza. I’m starving.”

“I see,” I said abruptly, making Puck frown in confusion. Gesturing around at the dunes, I continued. “I know where we are, sort of. I’ll bet all of these items were lost at one time, in the mortal world. Look at this stuff: pens, keys, cell phones. This is where it all comes, where the lost things finally end up.”

“The Desert of Lost Things,” Puck said dramatically. “Well, that’s appropriate. We’re here, aren’t we?”

“We are not lost,” I told him firmly, tossing the cell phone away. It hit the sand and was swallowed immediately. “I know exactly where I’m going.”

“Oh, good. And here I thought we were taking the scenic route.”

“We’ve got trouble.” Ash’s curt voice interrupted us. The Winter prince came striding up the dune with Grimalkin trotting behind him, his long fur standing on end. A sudden blast of hot wind tossed his hair and made his cloak snap around him. “There’s a storm coming,” Ash said, and pointed across the desert. “Look.”

I squinted over the dunes. On the horizon, shimmering in the heat, something was moving. As the wind began to howl, filling the air with grocery lists, homework sheets, and baseball cards, I saw a wall of swirling, glittering sand, eating up the ground as it flowed toward us like an unleashed flood.

“Sandstorm!” I gasped, stumbling backward. “What’ll we do? There’s nowhere we can really go.”

“This way,” Grimalkin said, sounding much calmer than I was feeling. A gust of wind tossed sand over his back, and he shook himself impatiently. “We have to get to the cliffs before the main storm arrives, or it could become unpleasant. Follow me.”

We headed for the cliffs, fighting the sand and wind that shrieked around us, ripping at clothes and stinging exposed flesh. As the storm drew closer, heavier items began to fly through the air, as well. When a pair of scissors hit me in the chest, skittering off the dragon-scale armor, my blood ran cold. We had to get to shelter quickly, or we’d be sliced to pieces.

The edge of the dust storm roared over me like a tidal wave, screaming in my ears, pelting me with sand and other things. With my eyes squinted nearly closed, I couldn’t see where I was going, and dust clogged my nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe. I lost sight of Grimalkin and the others and struggled blindly through the maelstrom, one arm covering my face, the other held out in front of me.

Someone took my hand, pulling me forward. I peeked up and saw Ash, head and shoulders hunched against the wind, dragging me toward the looming cliff wall, a dark curtain in the middle of a stormy sea. Puck was already crouched behind a jagged outcropping, huddled against it as streams of sand flowed around him, bouncing odds and ends off the stones.

“Well, this is fun,” Puck said as we ducked behind the rock, huddled together as wind and sand shrieked around us. “It’s not every day I get to tell someone I was attacked by a pair of flying reading glasses. Ow.” He rubbed his forehead, where a bruise had started to form.

“Where’s Grimalkin?” I yelled, peering into the raging wind. A plastic doll head struck the rock inches from my face and went bouncing into the storm, and I cringed back.

“I am here.” Grimalkin materialized behind the rock, shaking sand from his coat in a dusty cloud. “There is a small opening in the cliff wall a few yards down,” he announced, peering up at me. “I am going there now, if you care to follow. It is more comfortable than cringing against a rock.”

Hugging the wall, arms raised to shield our eyes from sand and flying objects, we trailed Grimalkin along the cliff until we reached a narrow crack, a corridor that snaked away into the rock. The opening was tight and narrow, and there wasn’t much room to do more than stand, but it was better than being out in the storm.

I squeezed into the corridor, sighing in relief. My ears rang from the shrieking wind, and sand clung to everything: hair, lips, eyelashes. Taking off one gauntlet, I wiped my face, wishing I had a towel, and tried combing the sand from my hair.

“Ugh.” Puck shook his head like a dog, sending dust and grit flying. Ash glared at him and moved away from the shower, standing beside me. “Ack. Blech. Oh, great, I’m already starting to itch. I’m going to have sand in every crack for months now.”

Grinning at Puck’s statement, I reached up and ruffled Ash’s hair, sending a rain of dust to the ground. He winced and gave me a rueful look. “I wonder how long the storm will last,” I mused out loud, watching sand hurl past the opening. Catching sight of Grimalkin, grooming rigorously on a nearby rock, I called out to him. “Grim? Any ideas?”

The cat didn’t even slow down. “Why do you ask me, human?” he asked, licking himself as though his fur was on fire and not just covered in sand. “I have never been here.” He shook his head, then moved on to his paws and whiskers. “We could be here for minutes or days—I am no expert of the sand and wind cycles in the Desert of Lost Things.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and I rolled my eyes. “Although,” he continued, furiously scrubbing his face, “it might interest you to know there is a tunnel around the corner to the right, half-hidden behind a bush. Perhaps you should see to it that it is empty, and not filled with Iron spiders or something equally unpleasant.”

We drew our weapons. Talk about a rock and a hard place. The last thing we wanted was to be trapped in a narrow corridor with an enemy bearing down on us and the storm at our backs. With Ash in front of me and Puck bringing up the rear, we edged forward until we found the tunnel Grim was talking about, a gaping slash in the rock wall, dark and uninviting, like the open mouth of a beast.

Cautiously, Ash poked his sword through the opening, and when nothing immediately leaped out, I eased forward to peer inside.

At first, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, it looked like an ordinary stone tunnel, maybe to a cave system or something similar. But then I saw that the tunnel had been carved out of the rock, that a clump of familiar white mushrooms grew on the wall near the entrance, and an old metal lantern hung on a nail farther in. This wasn’t a random cave. Someone had been using these tunnels, and recently.

And suddenly, I knew where we were.

“Princess, wait,” Puck warned as I stepped in farther. “What are you doing?”

“I know what this is,” I muttered, taking the lantern off the nail. It still had oil, and I coaxed a tiny flame to life, lifting it up. The light glinted off a toy fire engine lying next to a rock, and I had to smile. “Yes,” I murmured, bending down to pick up the toy truck. “This is a packrat tunnel. I’m sure of it.”

“Pack what?” Puck frowned as he ducked through the opening, still keeping his daggers out as he glared around uneasily. “Rats? Giant iron rats? Oh, thank goodness, that’s so much better than spiders.”

“No.” I glared at him as Ash sheathed his sword and stepped into the tunnel, gazing around cautiously. “Packrats. Little Iron fey that carry mounds of junk on their backs. We met them on our first trip through the Iron Realm, when I was looking for Machina. These tunnels should lead right to their nest.”

“Oh. Awesome. That makes me feel so much better.”

“Will you stop it? They’re harmless. And they helped us before.” I put down the truck and stepped farther into the tunnel, raising the lantern as high as I could. The burrow snaked away into pitch blackness, but I felt that same odd pull, coming from the dark.

“Where are you going, human?” Grimalkin appeared on a nearby rock, watching me intently. “Do you know the way through these tunnels? It would be highly annoying if we became lost following you.”

“I know the way,” I said softly, taking a few steps forward, deeper into the burrow. “And if we can find the packrats, they’ll be able to help us.” Turning around, I saw all three hanging back with varying dubious expressions, and sighed. “I know what I’m doing, guys. Trust me, okay?”

Ash and Puck shared a brief glance, and then Ash pushed himself off the wall to stand beside me. “Lead the way,” he said, nodding into the darkness. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“For the record,” Grimalkin stated as we ventured, single file, into the black, “I do not think this is a good idea. But, as no one listens to the cat anymore, I will have to wait until we are completely lost to say ‘I told you so.’”

THE TUNNELS WENT ON. Like a giant rabbit warren or termite nest, they twisted and curled their way through the mountain, leading us deep underground. I followed the strange pull, letting it guide me through the seemingly endless maze of burrows, Ash, Puck, and Grim trailing behind. The stone-worked tunnels all looked the same, except for the odd broken toy or piece of junk scattered among the rocks. Several times, we passed through a nexus where multiple channels broke off in different directions. But I always knew which way to go, which tunnel to follow, and didn’t even think much about it, until Grimalkin gave a sudden, irritated hiss.

“How are you doing this, human?” he demanded, lashing his tail in agitation. “You have been here only once, and it is impossible for mortals to memorize directions so quickly. How do you know you are going the right way?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered, taking us down yet another side passage. “I just do.”

Puck’s bark of laughter startled me. “See?” he crowed, pointing at Grimalkin, who flattened his ears at him. “You see how irritating that is? Remember that, next time you—hey!” he called as Grimalkin disappeared. “Yeah, I can’t see you, but I know you can still hear me!”

We were getting closer to the packrats’ nest, a fact I knew because of the amount of junk that started appearing in random places: a broken keyboard here, a bicycle horn there. Soon the tunnels were strewn with it, making us watch where we put our feet. Unease gnawed at me; this far in, we should’ve run into a packrat or two. I had been looking forward to meeting them again, wondering if they remembered me. But the tunnels felt empty and cold, abandoned. And they had been that way for a while.

Abruptly, the tunnel fell away, and we stepped into a huge cavern, with mountains of junk piled farther than we could see. Making our way past the enormous trash heaps, I strained my eyes and ears, hoping to catch a glimpse of the packrats, hear them babble in their funny language. But, in my heart, I knew it was futile. I couldn’t sense any spark of life in this place. The packrats were long gone.

“Hey,” Puck said suddenly, his voice echoing about the cavern. “Is that…a throne?”

I drew in a sharp breath. A chair made entirely of junk sat atop a smaller mound of rubbish in the center of the room. On a whim, I walked over to the mound and crouched at the foot of the throne, and began sifting through the debris.

“Um…princess?” Puck asked. “What are you doing?”

“Aha!” Straightening, I raised my hand in triumph, brandishing my old iPod. Ash and Puck both gave me confused looks as I tossed the broken device on the mound again. “I just wanted to see if it was still here. We can go now.”

“I take it you’ve been here before,” Ash said quietly, nodding to the chair. “And that throne wasn’t empty the first time, was it? Who sat there?”

“His name was Ferrum,” I replied, remembering the old, old man with silver hair that nearly touched the floor. “He said he was the first Iron King, the one Machina overthrew when he took over. The packrats still worshipped him as king, even though he was terrified of Machina.” I felt a faint prick of sadness, staring at the empty seat. “I guess he finally died, and the packrats left when he was gone. I wish I knew where they went.”

“There is no time to wonder about that now,” Grimalkin said, appearing on the throne cushion, looking disturbingly natural gazing down at us. “This room still stinks of powerful Iron magic. It is corroding your amulets faster than normal. We must press on, or they will stop working right here.”

Alarmed, I looked at Ash’s crystal and saw he was right. The amulet was nearly black. “Hurry,” I said, jogging from the throne room with the boys at my heels, back into the endless labyrinth of stone. “I think we’re halfway there.”

A FEW HOURS PASSED, or at least I thought they did—it was so hard to tell time underground—and the fuel in the lantern burned low. We stopped to rest a couple of times, but I found it difficult to stay in one place, becoming restless and antsy until we started moving again. Puck joked that something must be summoning me again, and I didn’t know if he was wrong. Certainly something was drawing me, growing stronger and stronger the closer we got, making it impossible to rest or think until we reached our destination.

And when the tunnels finally ended, dropping away into a monstrous precipice spanned by a narrow stone bridge, I knew I was almost there.

“Machina’s fortress,” I said softly, gazing across the chasm, “is on the other side of the bridge. This is the way I took to reach it. We’re almost directly underneath the tower.”

Puck whistled, the sound bouncing off the walls. “And, you think the false king will be here, princess?”

“He has to be,” I said, hoping my convictions were right. “It ends at the beginning. Machina is the one who started it all.”

I hoped. Back when I first came here with the packrats, the area below the tower was known as the Cogworks, due to the massive iron gears, cogs, and pistons that clanked and ground their way along the walls and ceiling, making the ground vibrate. The noise had been deafening, as some of the larger gears had been three times my size. Now, everything was silent, the giant gears cracked and broken and strewn about, as if the entire Cogworks had collapsed on itself. Some lay smashed under huge boulders, evidence that the ceiling had fallen in, as well. When Machina died, his tower had crumbled, destroying everything beneath it. I wondered what it would look like on the surface, how much of the Iron King’s influence had survived.

Not much, I was afraid.

We made our way over the bridge, where the stone turned to iron grating, and started picking our way through the smashed clockwork, searching for a way up. As I made my way through the rubble, I noticed strange gnarled roots that hadn’t been here before, coiled around the gears and dangling from the ceilings. I could feel them pulsing with life.

“Over here,” Ash said, waving us over. A bent iron staircase spiraled up from the rubble, ascending toward a metal grate in the ceiling.

I felt a surge of excitement and apprehension. Whatever had been calling me was somewhere overhead. Probably it was the false king and we were walking right into his trap, but I had to see what was up there. The boys drew their weapons, and I pulled my blade, feeling my heart pound in my chest, whether in nervousness or excitement, I couldn’t tell. With Ash leading the way and Puck close at my back, we ascended the stairs to Machina’s tower.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN THE RUINS OF THE IRON KING

The last time I pushed open the trapdoor to Machina’s tower, I’d been blasted by the heat of a dozen furnaces as I entered the boiler room. In the fiery red glow, dwarves in baggy suits and oxygen masks had shambled back and forth, wielding wrenches and checking leaky pipes. Now, everything was silent, the great furnaces dark and cold. Beams had fallen from the ceiling, pipes were bent and broken, and ash coated everything with a fine gray powder. Those strange roots were also everywhere, snaking in from the ruins above. Through the holes in the ceiling, I could see a section of the tower walls, shiny and metallic.

“Place looks abandoned to me,” Puck said, tracing a finger through the dust, drawing a smiley face with the tongue sticking out. “I sure hope this is the right spot, princess.”

I glanced up through the ceiling, following the roots until they vanished from sight. “Whatever we’re looking for, it’s up there. Come on.”

Using roots and the pile of rocks, we climbed up one last floor. On solid ground again, I straightened and gazed around at what had been Machina’s tower.

It was a mess, a maze of iron beams, broken glass, and crumpled walls. Gears lay scattered about, rusting and broken, wires and cables dangled overhead, and shattered pipes dripped water and oil onto the floor. Numerous suits of armor, bearing the symbol of a barbed-wire crown on the breastplate, were scattered throughout the ruins like toy soldiers. I shivered, imagining rotting skeletons within those metal suits, but Ash kicked a helmet open and found it empty. It seemed Machina’s Iron knights followed the same rule as the rest of Faery: when they died, they simply ceased to exist.

Everything was still, as if the very ruins were holding their breath.

“Looks like nobody’s home,” Puck said, turning in a slow circle. “Hellooooooooo? Anybody here?”

“Be quiet, Goodfellow,” Ash growled, peering into the shadows with narrowed eyes. “We’re not alone.”

“Yeah? How do you figure that, prince? I don’t see anyone.”

“The cait sith has disappeared.”

“…crap.”

Meghan Chase, this way.

A faint glow emitted from the center of the ruins, drawing me to it like a moth to a flame. Without saying anything, I started walking toward it, ducking under beams and around half-standing walls, heading deeper into the maze.

“Princess! Dammit, hold up!”

They scrambled after me, muttering curses, but I barely heard them. It was here, whatever was calling me. It was just ahead…

And then, the walls, ruins, and rubble fell away, revealing an enormous tree in the center of the tower.

The oak soared into the air, massive and proud, the trunk so wide four people couldn’t wrap their arms around it. Its huge branches spread over the tower like a roof, blocking out the open sky. The whole tree glimmered like the edge of a blade, metallic and shiny, leaves flashing in the dim light like tinsel.

“Machina,” I whispered, and stared at the tree in amazement as Puck and Ash finally caught up. “Is it really…could it be?” Easing forward, I walked to the roots of the oak, gazing up at the trunk. Several feet overhead, a stick jutted out of the metal, straight, thin, and—unlike the rest of the tree—made of wood. “There’s the arrow! Oh…oh, wow. This really is him.”

“Wait, Machina was a tree?” Puck scratched the back of his neck. “I’m a little lost here, princess.”

“He turned into a tree when I stabbed him with the Witchwood arrow.” I was close to the former Iron King now, so close I could see my distorted reflection in the trunk. “I never imagined it would survive the tower’s collapse.” On impulse, I reached out and touched it, pressing my palm to the shiny surface.

This is no longer the Iron King, Meghan Chase. I wasn’t really surprised to hear his voice in my head again, though I could feel the power thrumming below my hand. Though the tree was infused with iron all the way to its heart, it wasn’t dying. In fact, it was flourishing. This oak is only the physical remains of his power, and yours. As I told you before, I am with you now.

“Meghan,” Ash said, his tone full of warning. I stepped back from the tree, breaking the connection, and turned to find we were surrounded.

Iron fey stared back at us from every corner of the ruins, their eyes glowing in the shadows. From what I could tell, most of them had weapons—mostly iron swords and cross-bows, but a few had guns pointed at us, as well.

“Meghan Chase,” said a familiar voice, and Glitch stepped out from behind the crowd, the spines on his head crackling with electricity as he shook his head at me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I STARED AT GLITCH, confusion and disappointment spreading through my chest. “Glitch?” I said, and the rebel leader arched an eyebrow. “Why are you here? I thought…this was where the false king lived.”

Glitch snorted. “Are you kidding? The false king wouldn’t come within a hundred yards of this place. This is Machina’s domain still, and everyone knows it.” He crossed his arms, glaring at me with shimmering violet eyes. “But I believe I asked you first, princess. Why are you here? Don’t tell me you came looking for the false king.”

“Yes,” I said. “I came here to kill him.”

Glitch choked, and his spines crackled as the lightning threads flared wildly. “Excuse me?” he burst out. “Let me get this straight. You’re the one thing the false king needs to become unstoppable, and instead of hiding in the mortal world like a sane person, or better yet, letting us guard you and keep you safe, you want to go assault the false king’s forces and take him out yourself.” He shook his head with a snapping sound. “You’re even crazier than I thought.”

“We can do it,” I insisted. “I just need to know where he is.”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” Glitch shot back. “There’s no way I’m telling you his location so you can march happily off to get yourself killed. This is what we’re going to do. You and your boyfriends will stay here, safely out of the false king’s reach, while he attacks the Nevernever and depletes his forces a bit. Then we can think about planning a counterstrike, but he’s too powerful to take on right now.”

“We can’t wait,” I insisted. “I can’t let him attack the Nevernever and destroy any more of it. We have to act now.”

“Sorry, your highness, but I don’t think you’re in any position to be giving orders,” Glitch said firmly. “This is my base, and these are my forces. And I’m afraid I can’t let you leave. Like I said before, it would be like handing the victory to the false king. And I tend to be a sore loser. You and the two oldbloods will stay right here.”

“Think you can keep us here by force?” Ash mused in his soft, dangerous voice, scanning the army spread around us. “I can promise you’ll lose a lot of rebels that way, and you need every one you can get.”

“Don’t take me so lightly, prince,” Glitch replied, and his own voice had gone quietly lethal. “There’s a reason I was Machina’s first lieutenant, and you’re in my house now.”

“Really?” Puck pulled his daggers before I could stop him. “Well, I’m placing my bet on the visiting team.” Around us, the rebels tensed, raising their weapons, and Puck shot Ash a savage grin. “Odds are stacked just the way I like ’em. You ready, ice-boy?”

“Stop right there!” My voice echoed around the room, startling everyone, myself included. “This will not, under any circumstances, turn into a fight. We’re on the same freaking side, dammit. Put your weapons away, now.”

Puck blinked at me, astonished, but Ash straightened and calmly slid his sword back in its sheath, diffusing the tension. A collective sigh seemed to go through the chamber as the rebels relaxed and lowered their weapons, as well.

I sighed and turned to Glitch again, who was watching me with an unreadable expression on his face. “Look,” I said, stepping forward, “I know you don’t think I should go anywhere near the false king, but you don’t have to worry. I was the one who defeated Machina, remember? I snuck into this very tower, faced the last Iron King, and stuck an arrow through his heart. That’s why I’m here. Oberon and Mab sent me to deal with the false king—they think I’m the only one who has a chance. I don’t want to fight you, but one way or another, I have to face him. You can either help me, or get out of my way.”

Glitch sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, making the lightning sizzle. “You have no idea what you’re doing,” he snapped, shaking neon threads from his fingers. “You think you’re ready to take on the false king? All right, then.” He stepped away from the tree, beckoning us with a hand. “Come with me. Not you two!” he barked, pointing to Ash and Puck. “They can stay here. We’re going for a little ride.”

“I don’t think so,” Ash said calmly, dropping his hand to his sword hilt. I shot him a warning look. Glitch snorted.

“Come off it, prince,” he said in a weary voice. “You really think I would hurt her? I’m the one who doesn’t want her running off on a suicide mission. Now that she’s exactly where I wanted her to be in the first place, you think I’d jeopardize that? Your princess will be perfectly safe under my care. And trust me, she’s going to want to see this.”

“I have no reason to trust anything you say,” Ash stated flatly. The rebel leader threw up his hands.

“Fine,” he snapped. “You want an oath out of me, is that it? Here it is, then. I, Glitch, last lieutenant of King Machina, promise to keep Meghan Chase safe from harm, and to bring her safely back to the paranoid care of her guardians. Is that good enough for you?”

“What about Puck and Ash?” I added.

“Nor will my forces do them any harm, as well. Are we quite done here?” Glitch shot me an exasperated look. “I would think you’d want to see this, princess, since you’re so eager to get to the false king.”

I glanced at Ash and Puck. “I’ll be all right,” I said, raising a hand to cut off Puck’s protest. “If Glitch says this is important, I should go.”

“I don’t like it.” Puck crossed his arms and gave the rebel leader a dubious glare. “It’s not that I don’t trust the guy, but…no, wait—that’s exactly the reason. Are you sure you want to do this, princess?”

I nodded. “I’m sure. You two stay here, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“One more thing,” Ash said in his dangerous, soft voice as we turned away, and Glitch shot him a wary look. “If you do not return with her,” Ash continued, staring him down, “if she comes to any harm while she is with you, I will turn this entire camp into a bloodbath. That is my promise, lieutenant.”

“I’ll bring her back, prince,” Glitch snapped, and there was the faintest hint of fear in his voice now. “I gave you my word, and I’m bound to uphold it, same as you. Try not to slaughter any of my people while we’re gone, okay?”

“Where are we going?” I asked as we turned away. Glitch gave me a humorless smile.

“I’m going to show you what you’re up against.”

HE TOOK ME UP A FLIGHT of stairs to a part of the tower that hadn’t completely crumbled, where an open landing trembled and swayed in the wind. Far below, the flat obsidian plain stretched away into the horizon, spiderwebbed with orange lava and dotted with metallic trees. Overhead, the sky was clear save for a few ragged clouds, and the crimson moon winked at us like an evil red eye.

Glitch walked to the edge of the landing, gazing out over the Iron Realm, his face turned to the sky. “Sky’s clear, good.” He spun to face me, smirking. “No clouds now, but a storm can sweep in quickly, so we have to move fast. Don’t want to be caught in the rain without an umbrella, I can tell you that.”

“How are we going to get there?” I asked, peering cautiously over the edge at the blackened plain stretched out below us.

Glitch smiled at me. “Fly.”

A buzzing filled the air. I looked straight up to see a pair of long, segmented creatures spiraling down at us, and leaped back as they perched on the edge of the landing.

I tried not to cringe, but it was hard. The creatures looked like a cross between a hang glider and a dragonfly, with bulging insect eyes and six copper legs that gripped the railing with tiny claws. Their bodies were thin and shiny, though their wings looked more batlike than insect, made for gliding instead of speed. And they had propellers on their rear ends.

Glitch looked annoyingly pleased with himself. “These are gliders,” he told me, enjoying my uneasiness. “Just walk to the edge of the platform and spread your arms and they’ll crawl into position. You steer them by pulling on their front legs and shifting your body weight. Easy enough, right?” I stared at him in disbelief, and he chuckled. “After you, your highness. Unless you’re scared, of course.”

“Oh, of course not,” I drawled sarcastically, taking a cue from Puck. “Big giant insect thing holding me several hundred feet in the air? What’s there to be nervous about?”

Glitch leered and offered no comment. Taking a deep breath to calm my pounding heart, I walked to the edge and looked down. That was a mistake. Steeling myself for the inevitable, I spread my arms.

A moment later I felt creepy jointed legs gripping my clothes as one of the insects crawled up my back, shockingly light for something that big. I clenched my teeth and tried not to flail as the legs curled under me, forming a kind of hammock. Overhead, the wings buzzed and fluttered, awaiting takeoff, but we didn’t move. I looked down at the dizzying drop, and my stomach spun so violently I was afraid I’d throw up any second.

“Uh, you’re going to have to fall forward, princess,” Glitch said helpfully. I would’ve turned to glare at him if I hadn’t been terrified to move.

“Yeah, I’m getting to that.” Closing my eyes, I took deep short breaths, preparing for the drop. I would never take up bungee jumping, that much was certain. “Okay,” I whispered, trying to psyche myself up. “On three. Here we go. One…two…three!”

Nothing happened. My mind said jump, but my body refused to fall. I teetered on the edge of the landing, the wind whipping my hair, and felt sick. “I don’t know if I can do this,” I said, as my glider gave an irritated buzz. “Hey, don’t judge me. How do I even know this is sa—ahhhh!”

Something nudged me from behind, just enough to make me lose my balance. Shrieking like a bean sidhe on a roller coaster, I fell forward.

For a moment, I couldn’t open my eyes, certain I was going to die. The wind whipped around me, howling in my ears as I seemed to plummet straight to my death. Then the glider curved upward, leveling out as it caught the wind currents. As my heart slowed and my death grip on the glider’s legs eased a bit, I cautiously opened my eyes and looked around.

The land stretched out before me, flat and infinite, fractured with glowing threads of lava vanishing into the horizon. From this height, the Iron Realm didn’t look quite so ominous. The wind shrieked in my ears and whipped at my hair, but I wasn’t afraid. Experimentally, I tugged on the glider’s front leg, and it instantly swerved to the right. I pulled on the other leg and it swooped to the left, sending a thrill coursing through me. I wanted to go faster, higher, to find a flock of…something…and race them into the sun. How had I been afraid of this? This was easy; this was awesome! The glider buzzed in excitement, as if sensing my mood, and I would’ve sent it into a steep dive if a voice hadn’t stopped me.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it, princess?” Glitch had to shout to be heard as his glider swooped down next to mine. The lightning in his hair snapped wildly, trailing threads of energy behind him. “First time on a glider, and you’ll never want to walk again.”

“You couldn’t have let me jump on my own?” I yelled, glaring at him. He laughed.

“I could have. But we would’ve been standing there till the sun came up.” Glitch pulled on his glider’s legs, and the insect swooped skyward, rolled, and came down on my other side. “So, your highness, you seem to be getting the hang of this, no pun intended. Want me to show you what these can really do? That is, if you’re not afraid of a little challenge.”

My adrenaline was pumping, and the thrill of flying made my blood soar. I was annoyed at the Iron faery and up for a challenge, little or not. “You’re on!”

Glitch grinned, and his eyes sparked. “Follow me, then. And try to keep up!”

His insect shot skyward, his whoop ringing out behind him. I yanked my glider’s front legs back, and it followed instantly, shooting up like a bottle rocket. Glitch banked sharply to the right; I pulled the glider’s right leg, and it performed the same maneuver, sweeping around in a lazy arc. We chased Glitch across the open sky, through a series of loops, arcs, curves, and dives, all at top speed. The ground rushed beneath me, the wind howled in my ears, and my blood raced faster than it ever had before. I pushed my glider into a steep, vertical dive, pulling up at the last second. My adrenaline surged, and I whooped with sheer, unrestrained joy.

Finally, we caught up to Glitch again, back to flying in a normal, straight line. He shot me a grudging look as I joined him, still panting from the thrill of stunt gliding an insect. “You’re a natural,” he said, shaking his head. “The gliders don’t perform that well for just anyone. You have to bond for it to really give you its all. Guess you made an impression.”

I was absurdly pleased at the compliment, and had the strange impulse to pat my glider on the head. “How much longer to where we’re going?” I asked, noticing that the huge red moon above us was beginning to set. Glitch sighed, and his playful mood vanished.

“We’re almost there. In fact, you should start to see it…now.”

We soared over a rise, the land dropping away into a shallow basin, and I saw the forces of the false king for the first time.

They covered the ground in a glimmering carpet, a small city’s worth of Iron fey, marching forward in perfectly square sections. The army was massive, easily twice the size of the forces of Summer and Winter. Great iron beetles, like the ones we saw in the earlier attack, lumbered forward like tanks, overshadowing the ranks of smaller fey. I counted at least three dozen of them, and remembered how hard it was to bring down just one of the massive bugs. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Behind the army, creeping forward at an impossible rate, was a massive iron fortress. I blinked, rubbing my eyes, wondering if I was hallucinating. It was impossible. Something that size should not be able to move. But yet, there it was, rolling after the army, a huge structure of iron and steel. It was lopsided and uneven, looking cobbled together from whatever was lying around, but somehow shaped into a monstrous moving citadel.

“He’s been gathering his forces for a while,” Glitch said as I stared at the fortress, unable to take my eyes from it. “Those skirmishes at the edge of the Nevernever? Just a distraction, something to weaken the other side while he gathers his strength. At the rate he’s going, he’ll reach the edge of the Iron Kingdom in a little under a week. And when he plows through the Nevernever with that fortress and the full might of his army behind it, none of the oldbloods will be able to stop him. First he’ll take out the courts, and then he’ll plant that castle in the middle of your precious Nevernever to finish it off. Faery will be converted to Iron in a matter of days.

“So, your highness,” Glitch said, as we wheeled our gliders around, retreating from the army and the fortress of death that followed. My excitement had fled, replaced with sheer fright and a nagging despair. “What do you expect to do against that?”

I had no answer for him.

THE REBELS HAD CONVERTED part of Machina’s tower into their underground base. Though much of it still remained a ruin, enough had been cleared out for us to be given separate quarters. Glitch showed us a set of rooms we could use—small and windowless, with a rough stone floor—and said he would leave them unlocked for the time being.

“You can roam the tower grounds all you like, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave the ruins,” he said, pushing open the door to another identical room, furnished with only a cot, a lamp, and an upside-down barrel that served as a table. “You’re our guests, of course, but be warned that I’ve given specific orders to keep you from leaving the tower, by force if necessary. Not that I want a fight. I’d much rather things be civil between us.”

“Yeah, good luck with that, socket-head,” Puck sneered, and I was too tired to argue. Glitch needn’t have worried; I wasn’t planning any grand escape. There was no place for us to go. We couldn’t get to the false king through that huge army, and even if we did, we’d have to somehow find a way into that moving fortress, which would certainly be heavily guarded. I was at a loss. Asking Glitch and the rebels to charge the false king’s forces would be suicide, but if we didn’t do something quickly, that castle would reach the battlefront and then it would be game over.

Ash moved close, putting a hand on my shoulder, his eyes bright with concern. “Don’t worry about Glitch, or the castle,” he said in a low voice, so that only I could hear. I’d told him about the army and the Iron fey and the moving fortress the moment I came back with Glitch, and the Winter prince had nodded grimly but didn’t seem terribly concerned about it. “Nothing is impenetrable. We’ll think of something.”

“Really? ’Cause I’m feeling a bit outgunned at the moment.” I sighed and leaned into him, closing my eyes. Puck and Glitch were throwing insults and challenges at each other a few yards away, but it didn’t seem terribly serious so I wasn’t going to worry about it. “How are we supposed to get in that thing?” I whispered. “Or even get close? There’s no force big enough to stand against that huge army. And by the time they reach the wyldwood it’ll be too late.”

“We have a little time.” Ash’s voice, low and soothing, flowed over me. “And you haven’t really slept since we left Leanansidhe’s. Get some rest. I’ll be right outside the door.”

“You’re always—” the statement was interrupted by a huge yawn “—telling me to rest,” I finished, deliberately ignoring the irony. Ash snorted, and I frowned, poking him in the chest. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, steering me toward the room. “But you also have this tendency to push yourself beyond the limits of your endurance, and you don’t notice until you fall over from exhaustion.” He escorted me over the threshold, smiling as I glowered at him. “As your knight, I’m entitled to point these things out. Part of the job description when you asked me.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered, crossing my arms. Ash smiled.

“I don’t lie, remember?” He stepped into the room, bent down, and brushed a featherlight kiss to my lips, making my insides melt. “I’ll be close. Try to get some rest.” He closed the door, leaving me with a growing ache that wouldn’t go away.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN RAZOR

Tired as I was, it was hard to sleep. I lay on the lumpy, uncomfortable cot and stared at the ceiling, my thoughts swirling too furiously to rest. I thought about the false king and his moving fortress, of the armies of Summer and Winter camped on the edge of the Iron Realm, oblivious to the danger. I tried formulating ways to stop the moving citadel and the huge army bearing down on the camps, but my plans looped in crazy, complicated circles or were too suicidal to take seriously.

But mostly, I thought of Ash, who kept invading my thoughts every few seconds. I wanted him here with me, alone in this little room with the door locked, but at the same time I didn’t know if I was ready. Several times, I thought about opening the door and dragging him back inside with me, but would that be too forward? Would he think it inappropriate, considering where we were? Or was he waiting for me to make the first move? He had said he would wait for me, right?

I must’ve drifted off, because the next thing I knew, something landed on my stomach, and I bolted upright with a yelp, throwing it off.

“Ouch,” exclaimed a raspy voice, and a gremlin leaped from the floor to the edge of the cot, regarding me with electric green eyes. “Found you!” it exclaimed, and I yelled.

Ash burst into the room a millisecond later, sword already drawn, ready to attack whatever had ambushed me. Seeing the gremlin, he tensed, and I threw my hand up, stopping him before he could lunge.

“Ash, wait!” He paused, scowling, and I turned to the gremlin, which was now in a defensive crouch, hissing and baring its teeth at Ash. “Did…did you just talk?” I stammered. “You spoke, right? I didn’t just imagine it?”

“Yes!” it exclaimed, bouncing up and down, its ears flapping like sails. “Yes, you hear me! Razor found you! Found girl and funny dark elf.”

“Razor,” I repeated, as Ash stared at us in complete bewilderment. “Is that your name?”

“You can understand it?” Ash said, frowning at the gremlin, who snarled and scuttled up the wall, hanging there like an enormous spider. “The creature is actually talking to you?”

I nodded and looked back at the gremlin, which was now gnawing on one of its huge ears and still glaring at Ash. “When did you guys learn to talk?”

The gremlin blinked at me. “We talked,” it stated, cocking its head as if confused. “Always talked. No one hears us, though. Except the Master.”

I winced. Even though I had suspected for a while now, to have a gremlin actually confirm it was disturbing. They listened to me because they thought I was their new master. I was at a loss. Not long ago, I thought the gremlins mindless and animalistic, cunning but lacking any sort of language or society. To hear one speak was more than a little surprising.

I looked down at Razor, beaming up at me, hanging on my every word. I certainly had no idea what to do with a gremlin. “How did you get in here?” I asked instead.

“Followed!” The spindly creature grinned, flashing his neon-blue, razor-sharp teeth. Its voice buzzed like a bad radio station. “Brothers say they see you at old city. Razor followed. Followed you here. Found you!”

“What does it want?” Ash muttered, frowning as the gremlin cackled and scurried to the ceiling, hanging upside down as it swayed from side to side.

“I don’t know.” I looked up at the gremlin. “Razor, why did you follow me? What do you want?”

“Food!” the gremlin crowed. “Razor smells food! Hungry!” Hissing, he scuttled across the ceiling, zipped out the open door and vanished into the ruins.

Ash sighed and sheathed his blade. “Are you all right?” he asked. “It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

I shook my head. “I can understand them,” I said, wondering what to do with this new revelation. Standing, I walked to the door, peering out at the ruins. Lights flickered erratically, and a faint hum filled the air, the buzz of machines and electricity. “They think I’m their master now, Ash,” I said, leaning against the door frame. “Like Machina was. I guess…because I have his power, they think they should follow me.”

“Interesting.” Ash’s thoughtful voice made me glance back. I was half expecting him to be worried or disgusted with the whole talking to gremlins thing. But the look in his eyes was one of intrigue, not contempt. “I wonder what you could do,” he mused, “with all the gremlins under your command.”

A sudden commotion somewhere in the ruins drew my attention. “Gremlin!” someone shouted, accompanied by much cursing. “We have a gremlin! Get away from those wires, you little—hell.” The lights sputtered and went out, plunging the ruins into blackness. “Glitch! It just ate through the electrical cables!”

“Get the backup generator going!” Glitch’s voice cut through the commotion. “Diode, see if you can reconnect the lights. And someone catch that gremlin!”

Puck appeared, fading out of the shadows, yawning and scrubbing his hair. “Sounds like they’ve got a little pest problem.” He grinned as the lights flickered and struggled to come back on. Ash glared at him.

“Where’ve you been, Goodfellow?”

“Me? Oh, I’ve been scouting the compound, chatting to the natives, exploring possible escape routes, you know, useful stuff.” Puck scratched his nose and leered at Ash. “What’ve you been doing all night, ice-boy?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I sighed, loudly, before they could start insulting each other. “Has anyone seen Grimalkin yet?”

“Nope, but you know our furry friend.” Puck shrugged and leaned against the wall. “He’ll show up when we least expect him, being all cool and mysterious. I wouldn’t worry about the furball.” The lights flickered once and finally stayed on. Puck rolled his eyes. “You know, if we ever wanted to cause a lot of havoc, we’d just have to find a dozen gremlins and turn them loose. Those things make more trouble than me. Almost. So, princess.” He turned to me, and his voice dropped to a murmur. “Any idea of when we’re getting out of here?”

“I don’t know, Puck.” I shook my head. “I don’t exactly have a plan, yet. We have to somehow get around that huge army, sneak into the castle, find the false king, and take him out, all before he reaches the wyldwood.”

“Sounds pretty impossible to me,” Puck grinned. “When do we start?”

“Start what?” And Glitch came around the corner, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I hope you’re not planning to start anything with the false king, because if you are, let me say again how stupid and impossible that is. Also, I’m not going to let you deliver yourself right into his hands, princess. You’ll have to get through me before you go off on any suicide missions. Just letting you know. So please…” He smiled at me, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Behave yourselves. For all our sakes.”

“What do you want, Glitch?” I asked, before Ash and Puck said anything that would get us thrown in rebel jail. Not that I didn’t doubt our ability to fight our way free, but I didn’t want needless bloodshed from those who were supposedly allies. Even though I knew it would probably come to that eventually. Neither of the boys did well in forced captivity, and we would have to go after the false king soon, planned or not. I couldn’t let him reach the wyldwood and destroy everything.

“Just wanted to let you know, if you haven’t guessed already, that there’s a gremlin running around the base. They’re not dangerous, usually, but they’ll make a nuisance of themselves by chewing on wires and short-circuiting any equipment we have. So if the lights flicker, or if something stops working abruptly, you can thank our little friend.”

Puck snickered. “It gives me all kinds of hope knowing your highly trained forces can’t track down one teensy little gremlin.”

“You think you can do better, you try finding the thing.” Glitch glared at Puck, and his spines bristled, before turning to me. “Anyway, here.” He handed me a bag. “Thought you might be hungry. Since you’re our guests, it would be impolite if we didn’t share our food with you. That’s your rations for the week. Try to make it last.” At my surprised look, he rolled his eyes. “Not all of us live on oil and electricity, you know.”

“What about Ash and Puck?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure eating our food won’t melt their insides to gooey paste. But you never know.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

The lights flickered again, and a voice yelled for Glitch somewhere overhead. Sighing, Glitch excused himself and hurried away, calling instructions. I wondered if I should be helping the rebels try to catch the gremlin, since it was my fault Razor was here, but then decided it was Glitch’s problem now. He wasn’t willing to help us or let us go, so he could deal with the trouble it caused.

At the mention of food, I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since the night before, and my stomach grumbled. Opening the bag, I found several cans of processed meat, beans, fruit cocktail, a tube of squeezy-cheese with crackers, and a six-pack of diet soda. There was also a stack of paper bowls and a handful of plastic spoons.

Peering into the bag over my shoulder, Puck made a disgusted noise. “Of course, all their food would be wrapped in those stupid cans. What’s so great about preservatives, I ask you? Why can’t humans just be happy with an apple?”

I glanced over my shoulder and sighed. “I take it you’re not going to eat anything while we’re here?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, stop griping then, and let’s find a place to eat.” Closing the bag, I started down the hallway, looking for some privacy. My room was the logical place, but I felt cramped and claustrophobic in that tiny space and wanted to see the open sky.

“Fine, princess.” Ash and Puck followed me up the stairs into the ruins above. “But if I get sick, I expect you to wait on me hand and foot.”

“If you get sick, I’ll just have Ash put you out of your misery.”

“I’m touched that you care.”

The tower was buzzing tonight as scores of rebels scurried back and forth, trying to repair the damage one lone gremlin had caused. I felt a nasty glow of satisfaction as I watched them, and a strange pride that I had caused this. Well, that my gremlin had caused this. What good were they, these rebels, if all they did was hide from the false king in the hopes that someone else cleaned up the mess?

And when did I start thinking of the gremlin as mine?

Despite the activity in the tower, the space around the great oak was quiet and still. I felt drawn to it, just as I was the first night we came here. Beneath the towering limbs, nestled in a circle of roots at the base of the trunk, I sat down and started pulling out rations.

Ash and Puck looked on warily until I waved a plastic spoon at them. “Sit,” I ordered, pointing to the roots. “I know this isn’t faery wine, but it’s all we’ve got and we have to eat something.” Dumping a can of fruit cocktail into a paper bowl, I passed it to Ash. He took it and perched gingerly on the edge of a root.

Puck sat and gazed mournfully into the bowl I handed him. “Not an apple slice to be found,” he sighed, picking through the gooey mess with his fingers. “How can mortals even pass this off as fruit? It’s like a peach farmer threw up in a bowl.”

Ash picked up the spoon, gazing at it like it was an alien life form. Dropping it back into his untouched food, he placed the bowl on the ground and stood.

“Ash.” I looked up from my cold beans. “What are you doing?”

“It’s watching us.” Very casually, his hand went to his sword hilt. “Very close this time. It feels—” he closed his eyes, and I saw a shimmer of glamour around him “—like it’s right above us.”

He whirled, blindingly quick. There was a flash of blue light as he hurled something at the tree, and a second later a high-pitched squeal rang out as something dropped from the branches, nearly landing in my lap.

I jumped up. It was a big metal insect of some sort, shiny and wasplike, its wings still buzzing faintly as it died. Our mysterious stalker, finally brought into the open. An ice shard had gone clean through its body, ripping it apart, but its hooked legs clutched something long and slender. Bending down, avoiding the needlelike stinger on the end, I wrenched the object from the creature’s grasp.

It was a stick, a branch with several leaves sprouting along the wood. The wood was still alive, though the leaves were flecked with iron, and shiny threads ran along the length. A note was wrapped around the stick, and as I pulled it off, Ash gently took the branch from me, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know what this is?” he murmured.

Puck smirked. “Uh, yes, actually. In most circles, it’s called a stick. Used for starting fires, poking large insects, and playing fetch with your dog.”

Ash ignored him. “It’s the branch from a rowan tree,” he said, meeting my gaze. “And, given the circumstances, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. He knows we’re here. He sent this directly to you.”

My blood ran cold. “You think he’s out there?”

“I’m sure of it. Read the message.”

I unrolled the note, feeling my stomach clench as I scanned the words. The Iron King has a proposal for you. Find me.

Peering at the note upside down, Puck scowled. “Find him? Like we’re going to drop everything and tromp all over the Iron Realm looking for him? You’re not thinking of actually meeting him, are you, princess?”

“I think I should,” I said slowly, looking at Ash. “He might know of something that we can use against the false king. Or, maybe the false king is offering to end the war.”

“Or it could be a trap, and Rowan will betray us like he did all of Faery.” Ash’s voice was cold.

“That might be, but I still think we should see what he wants. What he’s offering.” I looked around at the dozens of rebels moving about the ruins. “But first, we need to find a way out of here. You heard Glitch—he’s not going to let us walk out the front door.”

“Finally.” Puck grinned, rubbing his hands together. “I thought we were never going to get out of here. So what’s your pleasure? Diversion? Fight? Sneaking out the back door?”

“Before we bring the entire camp down on our heads,” Ash said, handing me the branch, “perhaps we should figure out where Rowan is first.”

“Oh, right. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?” I stared at the note, wishing yet again that faeries would just say what they meant without making it into a riddle. “I wish Grim were here. He’d know where to find Rowan.” I felt a sudden stab of guilt for not thinking of the cat until now. “You think he’ll be all right? Should we try to get him a message?”

“Too risky.” Ash shook his head. “We could draw suspicion to ourselves, and besides, no one but us knows the cait sith is here. That might prove useful later on, having an ally no one else is aware of.”

“Grim can take care of himself, princess,” Puck agreed, eager to get started. “It’s what he’s best at, after all. So, the question is, how do we figure out where the stick came from?”

I looked around and saw a skinny hacker elf walking through the ruins, carrying an armful of keyboards and wires. “Easy. We just ask.”

“Excuse me!” I called, jogging up to the elf, who jumped and gave me a nervous look over the tangle of computer wires. His huge black eyes, with lines of green numbers scrolling across, whirled anxiously. “Diode, right? I was wondering if you could help me.”

The hacker blinked, shuffling his feet. “Glitch has informed us that we are not to engage you oldbloods in verbal communication,” he said in a nasal voice.

“I just have a question.” I smiled at him, hoping to make him less nervous. It only succeeded in making him squirm more. Sighing, I held up the rowan branch. “I found this by the oak tree. Do you know what it is?”

Diode narrowed his eyes. “That is a sorbus aucuparia, more commonly known as a European mountain ash, or rowan tree. Yes, most of the natural flora and fauna has since been overtaken by ferrous influences, but there are a few places where you can find them still clinging to their natural state.”

I understood only half of what he was saying, but got the general idea. “Where?” I asked, and Diode blinked again.

“The nearest stand of sorbus aucuparia is two point seven miles due west from the tower,” he said, nodding in the general direction. “Of course, you won’t be able to see it, being forbidden to leave the compound and all. Oh my!” He stepped back from me, and his eyes whirled. “You’re not planning to escape, are you? Glitch will find out, and the trail would lead back to me, and I’d be an accomplice to a crime. Please tell me you’re not planning an escape.”

“Relax, I’m not planning an escape.” Not entirely a lie, since he just told me to tell him that, rather than asking me if I was. But it must’ve worked, because he breathed a relieved sigh and relaxed.

“Well, that’s nice, but I have to get back to work.” The hacker elf backed up, nearly tripping over his own feet, and gave me a shaky smile. “I have to…be somewhere else now. It was…um…goodbye.” Clutching his cables, he fled into the ruins.

“Did you two hear that?” I asked as Puck and Ash appeared behind me. Ash made a thoughtful noise and crossed his arms.

“Three miles due west,” he murmured, gazing after the fleeing elf. “Not far, but do you think it’s wise to let him go? He might run straight to Glitch.”

“Then we should move fast.” I checked my sword and my armor, making sure all were in place. “We’re getting out of here, now.”

Puck’s eyes gleamed. “Need a spectacular diversion of some sort, princess?” he asked.

“No, let’s not burn any bridges before we have to.” I started into the ruins, looking for a certain flight of stairs that would take us where we needed to go. “We might want to come back here, and I don’t want to fight a horde of angry rebels because you blew up their base or something. We’re sneaking out nice and quiet.”

“Um, but if we’re sneaking out, shouldn’t we be looking for the back door?”

“Hide.” Ash suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a pillar, crushing me to his chest, as Puck dove behind a rock pile. A split second later, Glitch appeared on the far side of the room, with Diode at his heels.

“I don’t know, sir,” Diode was saying. “But it seemed suspicious. You don’t think she’s planning an escape, do you? She told me she wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Glitch said. I could feel Ash’s heart against my palm, though he had gone perfectly still, hardly breathing. “You haven’t met a human in your life, Diode, so you don’t know that they’re all capable of lying through their teeth.”

Diode gasped, and Glitch blew out a long breath, running his hands through his spines. “It might not be anything,” he said, as they continued walking. I held my breath as they passed behind our pillar. “But go ahead and find her, all the same. The last thing we want is that girl throwing herself under the false king’s wheels.”

“Of course, sir.” Their voices faded as they continued into the ruins and out of sight.

Puck popped up from behind the rubble. “If we’re gonna leave, we should do it soon. Like, now. Before socket-head figures it all out.”

“This way,” I hissed, and we hurried on.

After a few more close calls, I finally saw the base of the stairs to the tallest landing, the one that gazed out over the plateau. Unfortunately, it was also guarded by a burly dwarf with a mechanical arm and an iron-tipped spear. Several hacker elves crouched nearby, repairing wires and other electronics.

“Want me to take them out?” Ash muttered as we crouched in the shadows.

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be noisy at all,” Puck whispered back. I glared at the dwarf and the Iron fey, the only obstacles to reaching our destination.

And then, I saw the glint of a glowing green eye in the ruins above, the curve of a neon smile. Razor! He would distract them, I bet. If I could just make him hear me…

As if reading my mind, the gremlin suddenly turned and looked right at us.

I caught my breath. Well, why not? Razor, if you can hear this, I need to get past that dwarf onto the stairs. Could you maybe cause a diversion or someth—

The gremlin grinned madly, and then with a screech that sounded almost maniacal, scuttled from his hiding place in a flurry of sparks, drawing the attention of everything in the room. Laughing, he dangled overhead, seeming to mock them all, before zipping out of sight. Shouts and curses filled the ruins as the rebels, dwarf included, dropped everything to pursue the gremlin.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Puck mused. “I really need to get a few of those things.”

“Come on,” I snapped, and we bolted up the stairs, still hearing the shouts of the rebels below as Razor led them on a wild-goose—or gremlin—chase. We reached the landing without opposition, the wind whipping my hair as we stepped onto the ledge.

Puck gave me a look of mock-alarm as I gazed up the tower wall, searching for our way out. “Um, how exactly were you planning on getting out this way, princess? Fly?”

“Yes.” I finally spotted what I was looking for, hanging off the wall near the very top, a cluster of gliders sleeping in the sun. I whistled softly, and they roused themselves, turning their insect heads to peer down at us.

Puck, following my gaze, made a revolted noise in the back of his throat. “You’re kidding me. You want us to fly out of here on those things? Um…how about I just turn into a bird and follow you—”

“No. You heard what Mab said.” I beckoned to the gliders, and they buzzed sleepily. “Using glamour could shatter your amulet. We want to conserve it as much as possible.”

Puck grimaced. “I think I might make an exception for this, princess. Not that I don’t enjoy the thought of being carried around by a big metal bug, but…” He backed up a step as the gliders began crawling down the wall. “Oh, wonderful. They’re looking at me weird, princess.”

“What’s the matter, Goodfellow?” Ash smirked, crossing his arms as the gliders landed on the platform, watching us with huge, multifaceted eyes. “Afraid of a few bugs?”

“Bugs are creepy.” Puck made a face at one of the gliders, wincing as it buzzed at him. “Giant metal bugs that look at me weird belong in horror flicks.” He sneered at Ash. “Besides, I don’t see you stepping up to the plate, prince.”

“I just want to make this moment last as long as I can.”

“Guys! There’s no time for this!” I glared at them, and they stopped, looking guilty. “This is our only way out. Just follow my lead and do what I do.”

I walked to the edge of the landing and looked down. Yesterday, gazing at that vast drop made my stomach want to crawl up my throat. Now, my heart raced with excitement, and I spread my arms.

For a moment, nothing happened, and I was afraid the gliders wouldn’t respond, after all. But then I heard the familiar buzz of wings, and a second later the glider landed on my shoulders, curling its copper legs around me.

“Creeeeeepy,” Puck sang. I turned to glare at him.

“Shut up and listen. You use the front legs to steer. Try to relax and you’ll be fine.” I ignored Puck’s dubious look and faced forward again. “Here we go,” I muttered, and dove off the edge.

The wind caught the glider’s wings and sent us both shooting upward, and my adrenaline soared in response. I thought I heard Puck’s yell of disbelief as I spiraled up, and grinned wildly, imagining his face if I showed him what the glider could really do. But there was no time for the crazy dives and aerial maneuvers of the night before, though I could feel the glider’s excitement as well, like a flighty racehorse eager to run. I did a couple of backward loops, just to get it out of our systems, before circling back to see if the boys needed further encouragement. To my surprise both Puck and Ash had managed to take off, and both were gliding toward me, though Puck did look a bit green as I pulled alongside them.

“Are you two all right?” I called, trying not to grin. Puck gave me a weak thumbs-up.

“Fabulous, princess!” His glider buzzed loudly, and he winced. “Though I’d much rather be flying on my own wings. This isn’t natural. Which way from here?”

Ash pointed toward the distant horizon. “Due west is that way,” he said, and I nodded. Without even waiting for me to steer it, my glider abruptly veered off to the right, and we set a course for Rowan and the setting sun.

CHAPTER NINETEEN ROWAN’S PROPOSAL

After several minutes of flying, I spotted a dark blot shimmering like a mirage on the otherwise flat landscape. As we drew closer, I saw that it was a stand of trees, still alive, an oasis in the middle of the blasted wasteland. But circling overhead, I also saw that they were dying, their trunks streaked with metal and most of their leaves already bright and metallic. A few sparse limbs bore leaves that were still alive, and they matched the branch I’d found at the rebel base. This was our rowan stand, all right. If the note was to be trusted, Ash’s traitor brother was here.

We landed our gliders, which buzzed anxiously about being left, and entered the grove cautiously, weapons drawn. The trees shivered in the wind, metallic branches scraping together like knives, making chills run up my spine.

Rowan stepped out of the trees ahead, a lean figure in white, his horribly burned face making my stomach clench. Two Iron knights flanked him, their jointed, segmented armor bearing a new symbol. Instead of a barbed-wire crown, the symbol of an iron fist now adorned their breast-plates, punching up toward the sky. One of the knights was a stranger, unfamiliar to me. But I recognized the second immediately; the face above the breastplate could’ve been Ash’s, except for the scar marring his cheek and the deadness in his gray eyes.

“Whoa, I’m seeing double,” Puck muttered, blinking rapidly. “Long-lost brother of yours, ice-boy? Were you separated at birth or something?”

“That’s Tertius,” I whispered as we continued to approach. “He was with Ironhorse the first time we went into the Iron Realm. I saw him again at the Winter Palace, when he stole the Scepter of the Seasons and killed Sage.” Ash clenched his fists at that, the air around him turning cold. “Don’t underestimate him. He might look like Ash, but he’s an Iron knight through and through.”

“Yeah, but…” Puck looked from Tertius to Ash and back again. “That doesn’t tell me why he looks like ice-boy’s clone.”

“Because,” Rowan answered, his smooth voice carrying through the trees, “he is a clone of my dear little brother. The former king, Machina, created his knights to be his elite guard, so he fashioned them in the images of those at court. You should have seen my double—ugly bastard. I did him a favor and put him out of his misery. Sage’s twin, unfortunately, was gone before we could ever meet.” He stopped a few yards away and bowed, the two knights stopping just behind each shoulder. “Hello, again, princess. I’m very glad you could make it. And with your two lapdogs in tow, as well. I’m impressed. That must have taken some serious magic.” His blue eyes flickered to Ash, gleaming dangerously, and he smiled. “That’s a lovely necklace, little brother, but it won’t save you in the end. The only way to survive the Iron Realm is to become part of it. You’re only buying yourself some time with that bauble. Once it breaks, as I’m sure it will, this realm will swallow you whole.”

“It will buy me enough time to kill you,” Ash replied. “Which I’m happy to do right now, if you like.”

“Now, now.” Rowan waggled a finger at him. “None of that. We’re not here to fight. I come here to offer a proposal that could potentially end this war. Don’t you want to stop the war, Meghan Chase?”

I was instantly suspicious and crossed my arms. “That’s why you brought me here? So you can bargain for the false king?”

“Of course,” Rowan soothed. “But first, I’ll need an agreement from you, princess. One that says we agree not to kill each other while standing on neutral ground. We wouldn’t want my dear little brother to forget himself and attack, now would we?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m more worried about you double-crossing us and having an ambush waiting right outside. Why should I trust you?”

“You wound me, princess.” Rowan put a hand over his heart. “I can assure you, all we want to do is talk, but if you’re not interested in hearing our proposal, I guess we’ll leave with our tails between our legs and continue our march on the Nevernever.”

“Oh, fine.” I could do this dance with Rowan forever, but it would get us no closer to the proposal. Still, I’d learned my lesson with faery deals and bargains, and I chose my words carefully. “We’ll agree to a truce if your side honors it, as well. As long as we stand on neutral ground—” I gestured to the grove around us “—neither side will attack the other. Agreed?”

“Agreed. There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rowan smiled at me, infuriatingly smug. “And you’re going to want to hear this, princess. In fact, I think you’ll find this deal very interesting.” He leaned back and watched me, taking his time. I didn’t answer, refusing to rise to the bait. Rowan grinned. “Your side is done, princess,” he said. “We all know that you can’t win—the Iron King’s army is far greater than either Summer’s or Winter’s, and his fortress is impenetrable. In a few days, Faery will be consumed by the Iron Realm, unless Meghan Chase steps up to save it.”

“Get to the point, Rowan.”

Rowan leered at me, reminding me of a grinning skull. “The Iron King is prepared to stop his advance on the Nevernever, call back all his forces, and halt his fortress where it stands today, if you agree to his proposal.”

“Which is?”

“To marry him.” Rowan’s smile grew wider, matching my look of horror. “Join your power to his. Wed Summer to Iron, and the Iron King will cease his war on the Nevernever for as long as you remain his bride. That way, no one else gets hurt, no one else dies, and most important, the Nevernever as you know it will survive. But you must agree to become his queen, or he will hit the courts of Summer and Winter with everything at his disposal. And he will destroy them.”

My hands were shaking, and I clenched my fists to stop them. “That’s his deal? Marriage?” My stomach recoiled in disgust, and I took a breath to hide the sickness. “What is it with all these Iron Kings wanting to marry me?”

“Not a bad offer, if you ask me,” Rowan said, smirking. “Become a queen, save the world… Of course, you would be married in name only—the Iron King has no interest in your…erm…body, just your power. I’m sure he would even let you keep your pet lapdogs, if you want. Think of all the lives you would save, just by saying yes.”

I felt ill, but…if I could stop the war without anyone dying… Was marrying the Iron King worth saving the entire Nevernever? The lives I could save, Ash and Puck and everyone else… I glanced at Ash, and found him looking as sick and horrified as I felt. “Meghan, no,” he said, as if reading my thoughts. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Of course, she doesn’t have to,” Rowan called. “She can simply refuse, and the Iron King will march into the Nevernever and destroy everything. But, maybe she doesn’t care about saving Faery, after all. Maybe all those lost lives have no meaning to her. If that’s the case, then please, carry on and forget this conversation ever happened.”

I closed my eyes, my mind spinning with choices and possibilities. If I agree, can I get close enough to the false king to stab him? Would that break the terms of the proposal? I have to try. This might be our only chance to get close. But… I opened my eyes and looked at Ash, at the fierce protectiveness on his face, the fear that I would say yes. I’m so sorry, Ash. I don’t want to betray you. I hope you can forgive me for this.

Something in my expression must’ve tipped him off, for he went pale and took a step forward, clutching my upper arms, fingers digging into my skin. “Meghan…” His voice was hard, but I could hear the despair below the surface. “Don’t. Please.”

Rowan laughed, cruel as the edge of a blade, enjoying our torment. “Ooh, yes, beg her again, little brother,” he taunted. “Beg her not to save Faery—let her see you for what you really are, a soulless creature consumed with your own selfish desires, uncaring of anything but what you consider yours. Make sure you tell her how much you love her, enough to destroy your entire court and everything in it.”

“Hey, corpse-breath, why don’t you do everyone a favor and sew your lips shut?” Puck drawled, his eyes narrowed in anger. “It’ll match the rest of your face and be an improvement. Don’t listen to him, princess,” he continued, turning to me. “These kinds of marriage proposals always have some hidden agenda or loophole.”

Something Puck said jogged my memory, and I gently freed myself from Ash to face Rowan. “Let’s hear that proposal again,” I said. “From the beginning. Just his offer, word for word.”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a parrot?” he sneered. “Fine, princess, but I grow impatient, and so does the king. Last time, so do your best to follow, yes? The Iron King wishes you to become his queen. Wed Summer to Iron, and he will cease his war with the Nevernever for as long as you remain his bride—”

“As long as I remain his bride,” I repeated. “Till death do us part, I suppose?”

“That is the traditional wedding vow, I believe.”

“So, what’s to stop him from killing me as soon as I say ‘I do’?”

Rowan stiffened, and the two Iron knights shared a glance. “You assume the Iron King would do such a thing?”

“Of course he would!” Puck added, nodding as if it all made sense. “If Meghan ‘weds her power to his,’ he won’t need her anymore. She will have already given him what he wants. So, on their wedding night, off with her head.”

“‘He will cease his war with the Nevernever as long as she remains his bride,’” Ash continued thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. “Which means he’ll resume his march as soon as she’s dead.”

“And he’ll be more powerful than ever,” I finished.

Rowan laughed, but it sounded rather forced. “Fascinating theory,” he taunted, though it lacked the usual bite. “But it doesn’t change the fact that the Iron King is ready to destroy the Nevernever, and this is your only chance to stop him. What’s your answer, princess?”

I looked at Ash, smiled faintly, and turned to Rowan. “The answer is no,” I said firmly. “I refuse. Tell the false king he doesn’t have to offer a marriage proposal to get me to come to him. I’ll be there soon enough, when it’s time to kill him.”

Rowan’s lips curled in a nasty smile. “How very predictable,” he mused, backing up. “I thought you might say that, princess. That’s why I’ve already sent forces to destroy your little rebel base. Better hurry back—they should almost be there by now.”

“What?” I stared at Rowan, wishing I could punch the smirk right off his face. “You bastard. They weren’t even a threat. You couldn’t have left them alone?”

“Glitch is a traitor to the Iron King, and his rebels are a blight that must be eliminated,” Rowan said smugly. “Besides, I would have destroyed them anyway, just to see the look on your face when you realized more people will die because of you. Of course, the longer you stay here talking, the more time you waste to warn your little friends. I would start running now, princess.”

I dug my nails into my palms, anger burning my chest. We couldn’t fight them; the terms of the truce prevented it, and we had to get back quickly to help Glitch. If it wasn’t already too late. Rowan smiled at me, knowing our position, and waved cheerfully.

I glared at him, backing away with Ash and Puck. “When I come for the false king,” I told Rowan, “I’ll be coming for you, too. I promise you that.”

The traitor prince ran a blackened tongue along his lips. “Oh, I’m looking forward to it, princess.” He grinned, and we sprinted out of the grove.

CHAPTER TWENTY IRON AGAINST IRON

I heard the battle even over the howl of the wind.

Pushing my glider as fast as it could possibly go, I swooped over a rise and saw the tower ruins swarming with enemy forces. Iron knights clashed with armored dwarves, silvery praying mantises with scythelike arms swiped at frantic hacker elves, and metal clockwork hounds hurled themselves into the fray. In the distance, a huge beetle tank lumbered toward the base, crushing everything in its path as musket elves blasted their guns into the crowds.

“We should take out that bug first,” Ash called, drawing alongside me. “If I take care of the gunners on top, can you bring it down?”

I nodded, ignoring the persistent fear in my gut. “I think so.”

“You two go on,” Puck shouted, wheeling his glider away. “I’ll hold the line at the entrance, make sure nothing gets through. See ya when we win, princess!” he called as he swooped away.

I took a breath and glanced at my knight. “Ready, Ash?”

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

I pushed the glider’s legs and sent it into a steep dive, swooping toward the huge black insect. Far below, the screech of metal rang in my ears. The boom of gunshots echoed over the field, and the screams of the wounded and dying made my skin crawl.

Something small and fast zipped by us, hitting the glider’s leg in a burst of sparks and making it veer sharply to the left. Wheeling around, I looked back to see several birdlike creatures, their beaks and the edges of their wings gleaming like a sword edge, spiraling up for another dive-bomb attack.

“Split up!” I yelled to Ash, who had seen them, as well. “We’re sitting ducks otherwise. I’ll try to draw off their attacks.” Without waiting for a reply, I yanked on the glider’s leg and sent it wheeling in another direction, looking back for the bombers. Two broke from the flock and streaked toward me with high-pitched cries.

I banked left, missing them, but barely. They shot past me like falling stars, viciously fast. One of the bird’s razor-edged wings hit my poor glider again, nearly making me lose control as the bird darted away. Straightening out again, I looked up to see the birds coming around once more, and clenched my jaw.

Okay, birds. You wanna play? Come on, then.

I pushed the glider into a steep dive, aiming for the battle below. The birds followed, their hunting cries echoing behind me. As we zipped by Ash, I spared him a split-second glance, just in time to see icy-blue light burst from the front of his glider and the shattered form of a bird drop away. I felt a stab of alarm as we passed; he was using glamour! But then the ground came swooping up insanely fast, filling my vision, and I had no time for other thoughts.

I pulled up, barely missing the top of a knight’s head, and heard a shriek of dismay as the closest dive-bird slammed into the Iron knight with a loud crunch, sending them both tumbling over the field. Weaving and dodging, I skimmed along the ground, soldiers and rebels whipping by me like telephone poles as I headed for the tower.

“This might not have been such a great idea,” I muttered, but then it was too late, and we flew straight into the ruins.

Beams and walls loomed up in front of me. I dodged and ducked frantically, yanking madly on the poor glider’s legs as we avoided crashing by a hairbreadth again and again. I didn’t dare look back to see how our remaining pursuer was doing, but I didn’t hear any crash or screech of metal, so I assumed it was still following us.

As I ducked under a beam, the ruins fell away and the tree rose up in the center, huge and magnificent. With the bird’s angry scream still on my tail, I hurled myself at the trunk.

A shudder went through the glider, and I gritted my teeth. “Come on, just give me one more trick,” I muttered. The trunk loomed before us, filling my vision. At the last possible second, I yanked sharply, and the glider swooped straight up, missing the tree by inches. The bird was not so fortunate and slammed beak-first into the trunk, making several leaves tumble to the ground. I couldn’t pause to celebrate, though, as we were skimming vertically along the tree, so close I could’ve reached out and touched it, and the branches were zooming down at us. With one last effort, we dodged and wove our way through the top of the tree until finally bursting through the canopy in an explosion of silver leaves, into open sky.

The glider sagged, its whole body trembling, and I reached up to pat its chest. “You did good,” I panted, shaking myself. “It’s not over yet, though.”

The glider gave a tired buzz but roused itself and shot forward toward the battle again. Ash came swooping toward us, his expression and even the way he flew his glider determined and angry.

“Why do you insist on hurling yourself into battles where I can’t follow?” he snarled, wheeling his glider next to mine. “I can’t protect you if you’re constantly running away from me.”

His words stung, and my adrenaline-soaked brain responded in turn before I thought better of it. “I made the call—it was a split-second decision, and I don’t need your approval, Ash! I don’t need you to protect me from everything!”

Shock, hurt, and disbelief flickered across his features. Then, his expression closed, his eyes turning blank and stony as the mask of the Unseelie prince dropped across his face.

“As you wish, lady,” he said in a stiff, formal voice. “What would you have me do?”

I shivered, hearing him speak like that. The cold, unreachable Ice Prince… But there was no time to talk, as a scream from the fighting below and the roar of gunfire jerked me back to the situation. Talking would have to wait.

“This way,” I said, and pushed my glider into a steep dive, Ash following on my tail. The fighting was still fast and furious, but the numbers were fewer now on both sides. The monstrous iron beetle still plodded forward relentlessly, scattering waves of rebels before it, their weapons bouncing off its metal hide.

“We have to take that bug down, now!” I yelled to Ash, hoping he could hear me. “If I can get on top of it, I might be able to stop it!”

As I circled the beetle, the musket elves perched on its broad back looked up and spotted me. Swinging their guns around, there was a roar of musket fire, and I felt the wind from several iron balls go zinging past my face. The glider jerked violently, shuddering in the air, and I fought to keep it upright.

Then Ash’s glider swooped by overhead, and the Unseelie knight dropped right into the cluster of elves. Sword flashing, he whirled and spun in a blue circle of death, and the elves fell away, tumbling off the beetle to the unforgiving ground.

Standing alone on the back of the huge insect, Ash gave his blade a final flourish and slammed it back in its sheath. His cold gaze met mine, defiant and unyielding, a silent challenge. Avoiding his icy glare, I swung close enough to drop onto the beetle’s carapace, letting my poor, gallant glider fly off to recuperate.

Okay, I was on the bug’s back. Now what? I looked around, wondering if there was a steering wheel or reins or something that controlled this giant thing.

“The antennae,” Ash said flatly, breaking through my thoughts. I blinked at him.

“What?”

The Ice Prince gave me one of his hostile stares and gestured toward the front of the beetle, where a pair of stiff black antennae, each as thick as my arm, stuck over the bug’s carapace. Ropes, dangling from the tips of the antennae, swept down and were tied to a platform behind the beetle’s head. “There’s your saddle,” Ash pointed out, still in that same cold, flat voice. “Better get this thing under control before it plows straight into the tower.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and hurried to the steering platform, arms spread to balance against the swaying of the giant bug. Grabbing the reins, I peered out over the beetle’s head, seeing the remaining forces of knights and rebels scurrying away before me. I saw Glitch, locked in battle with a huge clockwork golem, roll under the giant’s blow and touch the golem’s knee as he passed. The golem spasmed, froze in place, and toppled to the ground, threads of lightning crawling over its body. An Iron knight rushed Glitch from behind, but Puck suddenly leaped over the golem and slammed his foot into the knight’s face, knocking him back. They were fighting bravely, but the false king’s forces had backed the rebels against the base of the tower and were steadily closing in. They needed the cavalry, right now.

“Okay, bug,” I muttered, gripping the reins. The beetle’s antennae twitched, and it cocked a massive black eye back to stare at me. “I hope you like me better than every horse I’ve ever been on. Now, charge!”

The bug lurched forward, nearly throwing me from the platform, and gave a bellow that shook the earth. Iron knights and soldiers glanced back in alarm as the huge bug plowed into them, crushing them underfoot or sweeping them aside with its armored head. As we broke through the lines, tossing the enemy like leaves, the reenergized rebels gave a savage roar and charged, swarming over the soldiers with desperate abandon.

Moments later, beaten back, demoralized, half their army killed by rebels or trampled under the huge bug, the remaining enemy forces broke away and retreated, fleeing over the cracked ground to vanish over the horizon.

I pulled the rampaging beetle to a stop, tying off the reins as a cheer went up from Glitch’s remaining forces. I was wondering how I would get off the giant bug, when the beetle, sensing the battle was done, folded its legs and sank down with a rumbling groan, making the ground tremble. Sliding down the smooth carapace, I landed with a grunt and straightened quickly, looking around for Glitch.

Ash dropped beside me, making no sound, his features still distant and cold like a stranger’s. Guilt stabbed me like a blade when I saw him, but even now, I couldn’t talk to him like I wanted. Now more than ever, I knew we couldn’t sit here doing nothing. Not when the false king was almost to the front lines. We had to act now.

I fought my way through the crowd, shouldering rebels aside as they surrounded me, laughing and cheering, congratulating me on a brilliant counterstrike.

“Where’s Glitch?” I called, my voice nearly lost in the cacophony. “I need to speak to him! Where is he?”

Suddenly, I saw him, standing over a body on the ground, arms crossed to his chest and face grim. A hacker elf knelt over the prone figure, prodding him with long fingers. My heart stopped when I saw who it was.

“Puck!” I shouldered my way through the crowd, rushing up to his still form. My heart pounded. Blood smeared his face, oozing out beneath his hair, and his skin was pale. One hand still gripped his curved dagger. I shoved the elf out of the way, ignoring his protests, and knelt beside Puck, taking his hand. He was deathly still, though I thought I could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, and tears rose to my eyes.

“He fought bravely,” Glitch murmured. “Threw himself at a squad of Iron knights that would’ve killed me. I’ve rarely seen such courage, even among the Iron fey.”

Rage burned, hot and furious, searing away the tears. I suddenly had to fight the urge to leap up and stab Glitch with Puck’s dagger. “You,” I said in a low voice, anger burning my throat. “You have no clue of what courage is. You say you oppose the false king, but all you do is sit here and cower, hoping he won’t notice you. You’re cowards, all of you. Puck was hurt fighting your war, and you don’t even have the guts to do the same.”

Angry murmurs went through the crowd. I felt Ash step up beside me, silently challenging anyone to come close. Glitch was quiet for a moment, but the lightning in his hair snapped angrily.

“And what would you have us do, your highness?” he challenged. “Throw my people at the feet of the false king, knowing that they will die? You saw his army. You know we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“You don’t really have a choice,” I replied, still searching Puck’s face, hoping for a flicker of life, a sign that he would be all right. “You can’t stay here. The false king knows where you are now. He’ll come after you again, and he won’t stop until he kills every last one of you.”

“We can move,” Glitch said. “We can evacuate to a safe place again—”

“For how long?” I stood and turned on Glitch, glaring at him furiously. “How long do you think you can hide before he finds you again?” I raised my voice, staring around me at the rest of the fey. “How long are you willing to cower like sheep while he destroys everything? Do you think you’ll ever be safe while he’s out there? If we don’t stand against him now, he’ll only get stronger.”

“Again, what would you have us do, princess?” Glitch snapped, his spines snapping furiously. “Our forces are too small! There’s nothing we can do to stop him.”

“There is.” I stared at him, keeping my voice level and calm. “You can join forces with Summer and Winter.”

Glitch barked a laugh as the crowd exploded with noise. “Join the oldbloods?” he mocked. “You are delusional. They want to destroy us as much as the false king. You think Oberon and Mab will happily let us march in and shake hands and everything will be fine? They won’t let us across the border without trying to kill us all.”

“They will if I lead you there.” I stared him down, refusing to give. “They will if there is no other way to beat the false king. Come on, Glitch! You all want the same thing, and this is the only way we stand a chance. You can’t hide from him forever.” Glitch didn’t say anything, refusing to meet my gaze, and I threw my hands up in frustration. “Fine! Stay here and shake like a coward. But I’m going. You can try to keep me here by force, but I can tell you, it’s not going to be pretty. As soon as Puck is well enough, we’re leaving, with or without your consent. So either help me or get out of my way.”

“All right!” Glitch yelled, startling me. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed and gave me an irritated look. “All right, princess,” he said in a softer voice. “You win. You make a good point. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?” He sighed again, shaking his head. “We can’t stay hidden forever. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for us again. If I’m going to die, I’d rather die in battle than be hunted down like a rat. I only hope your oldblood friends don’t try to kill us as soon as the battle is done. I can see Oberon conveniently letting that little detail slip in any deal we make with them.”

“He won’t,” I promised, relief blossoming through me. “I’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You tell ’em, princess,” Puck murmured from the ground.

I whirled, my heart leaping, as Puck opened his eyes and grinned up at me weakly. “Now that,” he said as I knelt beside him, “was a rousing speech. I think I shed a few tears.”

“You idiot!” I wanted to smack and hug him at the same time. “What happened? We thought you might be dying.”

“Me? Nah.” Puck grabbed my arm and eased himself upright, wincing as he gingerly prodded the back of his head. “Took a nasty whack to the skull that put me out for a few minutes, that’s all. Would’ve said something sooner, but you were on a roll and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

The urge to hit him increased, especially since he was shooting me that old, stupid grin, the one that reminded me of my best friend, who’d looked after me in school, who was always there no matter what happened. I pulled him to his feet, punched him in the shoulder, and threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Don’t scare me like that,” I hissed. “I couldn’t bear losing you a second time.”

Releasing him, I turned to Glitch, who was watching us with a bemused, uncomfortable expression on his face. “Didn’t you say something about helping us?”

“Sure, princess. Whatever you say.” Glitch looked more resigned than convinced, but turned to his rebels and raised his voice. “Evacuate the camp!” he called, his voice carrying over the field. “Pack up and take only what is necessary! Healers, gather our wounded and take care of them as best as you can! Anyone who can still fight needs to be ready to travel by morning! The rest of you, suit up and be ready to march! Tomorrow, we go to join forces with Oberon and the oldbloods! Anyone who has a problem with that, or who is too weak or hurt to fight, should leave right now! Get going!”

The camp exploded into action. Glitch watched the rebels scurry about for a moment, then turned to me with a weary look.

“Well, it’s done. I hope you know what you’re doing, your highness. We leave before dawn.” Then, someone called to him, and he left, vanishing into the dispersing crowd and leaving me alone with Puck and Ash.

I was suddenly aware of Ash, standing a few yards away, regarding me and Puck with the expression of a granite wall. I hadn’t forgotten him, but that cold, silvery glare, blank as a mirror’s surface, brought a rush of emotions flooding back. Before I could say anything, Ash turned to me and gave a stiff, formal bow. “My lady,” he said in a calm, flat voice, meeting my gaze. “I must tend to my injuries before the night is out. Will you please excuse me?”

That same cool, formal tone. Not mocking or vicious, just overly polite, without emotion. My stomach clenched, and words froze to the back of my mouth. I wanted to talk to him, but the coldness in his eyes sliced into me, making me pause. Instead, I simply nodded, and watched my knight turn on his heel and stride toward the tower without looking back.

Puck gave a very exaggerated shiver and rubbed his arms.

“Whew, is it cold in here, or is it just me? Trouble in paradise, princess?” I felt my face heat, and Puck shook his head. “Well, don’t drag me into it. I learned long ago that you don’t get in the middle of a lover’s spat. Nothing ever goes as planned—people fall in love with the wrong person, someone ends up with a donkey head, and then it’s a whole big mess.” He glanced at me and sighed. “Let me guess,” he muttered, leading me back toward the tower. “You did something mildly crazy during the last battle, and ice-boy freaked out.”

I nodded, a lump rising to my throat. “He was angry that I went off without him,” I said. “But then I got mad because he didn’t trust me to handle things myself. I mean, I can’t always have him watching over my shoulder, right?” Puck raised his eyebrows, and I sighed. “Okay, it was reckless and stupid. I could’ve been killed, and a lot of people are counting on me to stop the false king. Ash knew that.”

“And…?” Puck prodded.

“And…I might have…told him that I didn’t need him anymore.”

Puck winced. “Ouch. Well, you know what they say—you always hurt the one you love. Or is that the one you hate? I can never remember.” I sniffled, and he put an arm around me as we ducked into the ruins. “Well, don’t worry about it too much, princess. Let ice-boy cool off for the night and then try to talk to him tomorrow. He won’t stay angry with you too long, I bet. Ash isn’t one to hold a grudge.”

I pulled back and frowned at him. “What are you talking about? He’s held a grudge against you for centuries!”

“Oh. Right.” Puck half grimaced as I slapped his chest. “But it’s different with you, princess. Ash is just afraid you don’t need him. That whole ice-prince song and dance?” He snorted. “It’s just a device he uses to protect himself, so he doesn’t get hurt when someone stabs him in the back. That happens a lot at the Winter Court, as I’m sure you know.”

I did know. I’d seen the cold, callous nature of the Unseelie Court, and the royal family was the worst, with Mab pitting her own sons against each other to earn her favor. Ash had grown up among those who knew only violence and betrayal, where emotion was considered a weakness to be exploited, and love was a virtual death sentence.

“But I know Ash,” Puck continued. “When he’s with you…” He hesitated, scratching the back of his head like he did when he was nervous. “The only time I’ve seen him like that was when he was with Ariella.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I think you’re good for him, Meghan,” he said, smiling in a small, sad way that was completely different from the Puck I knew. “I see the way he looks at you, something I haven’t seen in him since the day we lost Ariella. And…I know you love him in a way you can’t love me.” He looked away, just for a moment, and took a deep breath. “Jealousy isn’t something we deal with well,” he admitted. “But some of us have been around long enough to know when to let go, and what is most important. The happiness of my two best friends should be more important than some ancient feud.” Stepping close, he placed a palm on my cheek, brushing a strand of hair from my face. Glamour flared up around him, casting him in a halo of emerald light. In that moment, he was pure fey, unbound by shallow human fears and embarrassment, a being as natural and ancient as the forest. “I have always loved you, princess,” Robin Goodfellow promised, his green eyes shining in the darkness. “I always will. And I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

I looked down, unable to meet his open stare, human fears and self-consciousness coming to the surface. “Even if all I can offer is friendship? Will that still be enough?”

“Well, not really.” Puck dropped his hand, his voice turning light and carefree again, more like the Puck I knew. “Damn not being able to lie. Princess, if you suddenly decide ice-boy is a first-class jerk and that you can’t stand him, I’ll always be here. But, for now, I’ll settle for being the best friend. And as the best friend, it’s my duty to inform you not to lose sleep over Ash tonight.” We came to my room, and Puck paused, turning to me with his hand on the doorknob. “Also, don’t bother trying to find him. If Ash says he wants to be left alone, he wants to be left alone. Intruders might get an icicle at the head for bothering him.” He winced and pushed the door open. “Trust me on that.”

A pair of sleepy golden eyes turned to us as we entered the room, and Grimalkin sat up on the cot. “There you are.” He sighed, yawning to show off his bright pink tongue. “I was afraid you would never get here.”

“Where have you been, Grimalkin?” I burst out, crossing the room to glare down at him. He blinked at me calmly. “Everyone is about to leave, and we couldn’t find a trace of you.”

“Mmm. You must not have looked very hard.” The cat blinked at me calmly. “So, you actually convinced Glitch to join with the courts, did you? That will be interesting. You do know that even with the combined forces of the rebels, our side is still comparatively smaller in number to the false king’s army? I believe that is why Mab and Oberon sent you specifically after the false king—if the head is cut off, the body will follow.”

“I know.” I faced the cat, feeling self-conscious under that disapproving gaze. “But I have to go through the army to get to the head. At least this way I’ll have a chance of getting into that fortress. Right now I can’t even get close.”

“And letting the false king march his army into the Nevernever is a better choice.”

“What am I supposed to do, Grimalkin? This is our only chance. I don’t have another option.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps you all go to your deaths. I am continuously amazed with the lack of preparation around here.” Grimalkin scratched his ear and stood, waving his tail. “By the way, I believe someone was looking for this earlier.”

He moved aside, revealing the limp, crumpled form of a gremlin lying on the cot. I gasped and looked at Grim, who seemed ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Grimalkin! You didn’t…is he…?”

“Dead? Of course not, human.” The cat’s whiskers twitched, offended. “Although, it could be slightly dizzy when it wakes up. I do advise you to keep it more under control, however, as it seems inordinately drawn to mischief. Perhaps you could put it on a leash.”

“Looks like it’s coming to,” Puck noted.

I knelt beside the cot as Razor’s ears twitched and the spindly body stirred, raising his head. For a moment, he stared at me, blinking in confusion. Then his gaze slid to Grimalkin and he shot up with a hiss, leaping for the wall.

He missed, tumbling back onto the cot in a tangle of ears and limbs. Spitting in confusion and fury, he staggered to his feet, wobbling and flailing at the air. I grabbed for him, but he darted away, lightning quick, and leaped off the cot.

Puck’s hand shot out, grabbing him by his enormous ears, holding him at arm’s length as he squirmed and struggled. Razor hissed and cursed and spat, sparks flying from his mouth, his gaze not on Puck but on the cait sith beside me.

“Bad kitty!” he screeched, snarling and baring his fangs at Grimalkin, who yawned and turned away to groom his tail. “Evil, evil, sneaky kitty! Bite your head off in your sleep, I will! Hang you by your toes and set you on fire! Burn, burn!”

“Uh, princess,” Puck said, wincing as the gremlin clawed and flailed, sparks flying everywhere, “this isn’t exactly fun for me. Should I drop this thing or have Grim knock it out again?”

“Razor!” I snapped, clapping my hands in front of his face. “Stop it, right now!”

The gremlin stopped, blinking up at me with an almost hurt expression. “Master punish bad kitty?” he said in a pitiful voice.

“No, I’m not going to punish the bad kitty,” I said, and Grimalkin snorted. “And you aren’t, either. I want to talk to you. Will you stay and not run off if we let you go?”

He bobbed his head, as best he could while his ears were gripped tightly by Puck. “Master wants Razor to stay, Razor stay. Not move until told. Promise.”

“All right.” I glanced at Puck and nodded. “Let him go.”

Puck raised an eyebrow. “You sure, princess? All I heard was static buzz and chipmunk chatter.”

“I can understand him,” I said, earning a dubious look from Puck and a gleam of keen interest from Grimalkin. “He promised not to move. Let him go.”

He shrugged and opened his fist, dropping the gremlin to the cot again. Razor hit the mattress and instantly froze; not even his ears vibrated as he gazed up at me with expectant green eyes.

I blinked. “Uh, at ease,” I muttered, and the gremlin plopped into a sit, still watching me intently. “Look, Razor, I think it’s best if you leave. The camp is being evacuated right now. You can’t stay here by yourself, and I don’t think you’ll be welcome where we’re going.”

“No leave!” Razor leaped up, his face eager. “Stay with Master. Go where Master goes. Razor can help!”

“You can’t,” I said, hating the way his ears drooped like a scolded puppy. “We’re marching to war, and it’ll be dangerous. You can’t help us against the false king’s army.” He buzzed sadly, but I kept my voice firm. “Go home, Razor. Go back to Mag Tuiredh. Isn’t that where you really want to be? With all the other gremlins?”

Grimalkin sighed loudly, causing me to look back and Razor to hiss at him. “Am I the only one here who has any insight at all?” he said, looking to each of our faces. We stared at him, and he shook his head. “Drawing a blank, are you? Think about what you just said, human. Repeat that last phrase, if you would.”

I frowned. “Isn’t that where you want to be?”

He closed his eyes. “The next phrase, human.”

“With all the other gremlins.” He stared at me expectantly, and I raised my hands. “What? What are you getting at, Grim?”

Grimalkin thumped his tail. “It is times like these I am ever more grateful that I am a cat,” he sighed. “Why do you think I brought you that creature, human? To keep up my stalking skills? I assure you, they are quite adequate already. Please attempt to use the brain I know is hidden somewhere in that head. There are thousands of gremlins in Mag Tuiredh, perhaps hundreds of thousands. And who is the only person in the entire realm who can communicate with them?”

“Me.” Suddenly what he was implying hit me full force. “The gremlins. There are thousands of them out there. And…and they listen to me.”

“Bravo,” Grimalkin deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “The lightbulb finally comes on.”

“I can ask the gremlins to help us,” I said, ignoring Grimalkin, who lay down and curled his tail around himself, his work apparently done. “I can go to Mag Tuiredh and…” I stopped, shaking my head. “No. No, I can’t. I have to be there when we reach the Nevernever, or Oberon and Mab will try to kill Glitch and his army. They would think it’s just another attack by the false king.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Puck mused, crossing his arms. “Mab wouldn’t hesitate, and even Oberon would chop first and ask questions later when it comes to the Iron fey.” He glanced down at Razor, who was still watching me intently and cocking his head like a dog trying to understand. “What about Buzzsaw there? Could you send it back with a message to its friends, telling them what you want?”

“I guess I could try. What do we have to lose?” I turned to the gremlin, who sat up and flared his ears, ready and eager. “Razor, if I asked the other gremlins to help me, do you think they would come?”

“We help!” Razor bounced in place, grinning. “Razor help! Help Master, yes!”

I didn’t know if that meant all the gremlins would help or just him, but I went on anyway. “I want you to take a message back to Mag Tuiredh. This is for all gremlins. Gather everyone who is willing to fight and meet us at the edge of the Iron Realm, where it meets the wyldwood. We have to stop the false king’s moving tower before it hits the battlefront. Can you do that, Razor? Do you understand what I’m asking?”

“Razor understands!” the gremlin crowed, and leaped to the wall, flashing his neon grin. “I help! Meet Master in funny elf lands! I go!” And before I could call him back, he scurried up the corner, slid through the slats in the vent, and disappeared.

Puck raised an eyebrow and glanced at me. “Do you think he really understood what you wanted?”

Grimalkin raised his head and gave me an annoyed look, as if I had just blown something he’d spent hours setting up. “I don’t know,” I murmured, watching the vent. “I guess we can only hope.”

I DIDN’T SEE ASH all that evening, though I ignored Puck’s advice and looked for him. The ruins, bustling with activity at first, eventually died down into a somber quiet as scores of faery rebels prepared to march to battle. Armor was cleaned, blades were sharpened, and Glitch vanished behind closed doors with several of his advisers and hacker elves, probably to discuss strategy. Puck, forever curious and viewing all private meetings as a personal challenge, told me he would find out what was going on and disappeared. Restless, nervous, and annoyed that I couldn’t find Ash, I retreated to my room, where Grimalkin was curled in the middle of my bed and refused to scoot over so I could lie down.

“Grimalkin, move!” I snapped after trying and failing to ease him over. He rumbled a growl as I pushed at him, flexing his very sharp claws, and I quickly pulled my hand back. Golden eyes slitted open and glared at me.

“I am rather weary, human,” Grimalkin warned, flattening his ears in a rare but dangerous show of temper. “Considering I spent all night tracking down that gremlin, I would politely ask that you let me sleep before we go trekking down the same path we just came from. If you are looking for the Winter prince, he is up on the balcony with the insect things.” Grimalkin sniffed and closed his eyes. “Why not go pester him for a while?”

My heart leaped. “Ash? Ash is on the balcony?”

Grimalkin sighed. “Why do humans deem it necessary to repeat everything that is told them?” he mused, but I was already out the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE FERRUM’S PAST

The rebels shot me curious, annoyed looks as I jogged through the base, dodging hacker elves gathering up their computers, stammering apologies as I wove my way through the crowds. Reaching the stairs to the balcony, I took them two at a time but slowed when I came to the landing. Remembering what Puck said about intruders and hurled icicles, I peeked cautiously around the corner.

Ash stood on the edge of the landing, his back to me, the wind tugging at his hair and cloak. Overhead, dark red clouds blotted out the moon, and tiny flakes of gray danced on the breeze, dissolving to powder when they touched my skin. A fine coating of dust covered the balcony, muffling my footsteps as I eased through the arch. I knew Ash heard me from the tilt of his head, but he didn’t turn around.

“It’s unbelievable,” he whispered, his eyes gazing out over the landscape. In the distance, a thread of poisonous green lightning crawled under the belly of the clouds, and the air turned sharp and chemical. “To think this was once the Nevernever. To know that it could all turn into this…” He slowly shook his head. “It would be the end of us. Faery would be extinct forever. Everything I knew, places that have stood since the beginning of time, gone.”

“We won’t let that happen,” I said firmly, joining him at the edge. “The false king will be stopped, and this will go back to normal. I’m not going to let everything disappear.”

He didn’t say anything to that, continuing to gaze over the landscape. Silence fell, thick and uncomfortable. The wind whipped at my hair, howling across the distance between us. I could sense both of us wanting to speak, to break the awkwardness of unspoken apologies, until the quiet grew more than I could bear. “I’m sorry, Ash,” I murmured at last. “For what I said earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

He gave his head a small shake. “No. You shouldn’t apologize.” With a sigh, he raked a hand through his hair, still not looking at me. “I’m the one who taught you to fight, to take care of yourself. I have no right to be angry when you prove yourself capable of every lesson I gave you.”

“I had a pretty good teacher.”

He smiled, very faintly, though his eyes remained dark, his gaze on the clouds sweeping the horizon. “You’re not the same girl I met when you first came to the Nevernever, searching for your brother,” he said softly. “You’ve grown…changed. You’re stronger now, like she was.” He didn’t say her name, but I knew whom he meant. Ariella, the love he lost to a wyvern attack long before we ever met. “She was always the strong one,” Ash continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “Even the Winter Court couldn’t crush her spirit, turn her spiteful and cruel. She was better than all of us. But I couldn’t save her.” He closed his eyes, clenching his fists with the memory. “She died because I failed to protect her. I can’t…” His voice trembled, just a little, and he took a quiet breath. “I can’t watch that happen to you.”

“I’m not her,” I said, slipping my arm through his. “You’re not going to lose me, I promise.”

He shivered, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes. “Meghan,” he began, and I could sense his unease. “There’s something…I haven’t told you. I should have explained before but…I was afraid it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy if you knew.” He paused a moment, as if waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he took a deep breath. “Long ago,” he began, “someone told me that I would be cursed in love, that those I came to cherish would be torn from me, that as long as I remained soulless, I would lose everyone I truly cared for.”

My heart stopped for a moment, then picked up again, faster than before. “Who told you that?”

“A very old druid priestess.” He seemed hesitant now, and I caught a flicker of dark blue regret from the corner of my eye. “This was before Ariella, back in the ancient times, when humans still feared and worshipped the old gods and had all sorts of rituals for keeping us out, which of course only challenged us to find ways around them. I was much younger then, and my brothers and I would play our cruel games with the mortals, particularly with the young, silly females we came across.” He paused, tilting his head back slightly, gauging my reaction.

“Go on,” I murmured.

He sighed, and very gently freed himself from my hand, turning to face me. “There was a girl,” he said, choosing his words very carefully, “barely sixteen in mortal years, and as innocent as they came. Her favorite pastime was picking flowers and playing in the creek at the edge of the forest. I knew, because I watched her from the trees. She was always alone, carefree, so naive to the dangers in the woods.” A hint of bitterness crept into his voice, a dark loathing for the faery in the story. I felt cold as he continued in a soft, flat voice. “I lured her into the forest with pretty words and gifts and promises of affection. I made sure she fell in love with me, that no other human male would ever make her feel what I could, and then I took it all away. I told her that mortals were nothing to the fey, that she was nothing. I told her that it was a game, nothing more, and that the game was now over. I broke more than her heart; I broke her spirit, broke her. And I reveled in it.”

I had been waiting for it, but it still made me sick, the knowledge that Ash could be that heartless, just another capricious fey toying with human emotion. This girl, sixteen, lonely, eager for love, had been like me once. If I had been at the edge of the woods that day, instead of her, Ash would’ve done the same to me.

“What happened to her?” I asked when he fell silent again. Ash closed his eyes.

“She died,” he said simply. “She couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t do anything but pine away, until her body grew so weak it simply gave out.”

“And you felt horribly guilty about it?” I guessed, trying to glean some sort of moral from this tale, a lesson learned or something like that. But Ash shook his head with a bitter smile.

“I didn’t think twice about her,” he said, dashing my hopes and making my gut twist. “Not having a soul frees us from any sort of conscience. She was only a human, and a foolish one at that, to fall in love with a faery. She wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last. But her grandmother, the high priestess of the girl’s clan, was not so foolish. She sought me out, and told me what I just told you—she cursed me, promised that I would be destined to lose everyone I truly cared for, that it was the price for being soulless. Of course, I just laughed it off as the superstitions of a weakling mortal…until I fell in love with Ariella.” His voice grew even softer. “And now, with you.”

He turned away and gazed out over the edge again. “When Ariella was taken from me, I suddenly understood. We don’t have a conscience, but falling in love changes things. I understood what I had put that girl through, the pain she suffered because of me. I told myself I wouldn’t make the mistake of caring for someone again.” He gave a bitter chuckle and shook his head. “And then you came along and ruined all that.”

I couldn’t answer. I kept seeing that girl, and the dark, handsome stranger she fell for, died for. “Why are you telling me this?” I whispered.

“Because, I want you to understand what I am.” Ash looked down at me, solemn and grim. “I’m not a human with pointed ears, Meghan. I am and will always be Fey. Soulless. Immortal. Because of my actions that day, someone I loved died. And now, here we are, on the brink of war and—” He stopped and looked down, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And I’m afraid. I’m afraid I’ll fail you like I did Ariella, that the crimes of my past will ruin any chance we have at a future. That you’ll realize who I really am, what I really am, and when I turn around you’ll be gone.”

He stopped, the wind whipping at his hair and clothes, swirling ashes into the silence. A glider on the wall turned its head and buzzed sleepily. Ash’s posture was stiff, his back and shoulders rigid, steeled for my reaction. Bracing himself to hear footsteps walking back down the stairs. I saw his shoulders tremble and caught the faint aura of fear before he could hide it.

I stepped close and slipped my arms around his waist, hearing his quiet intake of breath as I pulled him against me. “That was a long time ago,” I murmured, pressing my cheek to his back, listening to his thudding heart. “You’ve changed since then. That Ash wouldn’t protect a silly human girl with his life, or become her knight, or walk into exile with her. Every step of the way, you’ve always been there, right beside me. I’m not letting you go now.”

“I’m a coward.” Ash’s voice was subdued. “If I cared for you as much as I should, I would end my life and the curse along with it. My existence puts you in danger. If I were no longer here—”

“Don’t you dare, Ashallyn’darkmyr Tallyn.” I held him tighter, even as he flinched at the sound of his True Name. “Don’t you dare throw your life away for an unknown superstition. If you die—” My voice broke, and I swallowed thickly. “I love you,” I whispered, fisting my hands against his stomach. “You can’t leave. You swore you wouldn’t.”

Ash’s hands came to rest over mine, twining our fingers together. “Even if the world stands against you,” he murmured, bowing his head. “I promise.”

WE STAYED ON THE BALCONY that night, sitting against the wall, watching the storm sweep over the outlying hills. We didn’t say much, content just to be near each other, lost in our own thoughts. When we did speak, it was of the war and the rebels and other, present-day things, staying far from the past…or the future. I dozed several times, waking with his arms around me and my head against his shoulder.

The next thing I knew, he was shaking me awake. The night had moved on, and a pinkish light glowed against the distant horizon.

“Meghan, wake up.”

“Hmm?” I yawned, rubbing my eyes. Sleeping in armor while leaning against a wall, I realized, was proving to be a bad idea, as my backside throbbed with pain. “Time to go already?”

“No.” Ash stepped to the edge of the balcony. “Come look at this. Hurry.”

I peered out over the edge. At first, I couldn’t see anything, but then the light gleamed off something shiny and metallic on the horizon. I squinted, shielding my eyes with my hand. Could that be the glint of metal armor? Or the shiny top of an iron beetle? My blood ran cold.

“They’re coming,” Ash muttered, and I stumbled back from the edge.

“We have to tell Glitch!”

I scrambled back from the landing, Ash close behind me. As we flew down the stairs, it quickly became clear that Glitch already knew. The camp was in chaos, rebels rushing back and forth, grabbing weapons and throwing on armor. Those who had been wounded the day before hurried out with freshly bandaged wounds, limping or carrying those who couldn’t walk.

“There you are!” Puck met us at the foot of the stairs, rolling his eyes as we came charging down. “Another army on the way and you two are playing kissy-face on the balcony. Suit up. Looks like there’s going to be another fight.”

“Where’s Glitch?” I said as we hurried through the ruins, dodging rebels. “What is he thinking? We can’t fight another army now! Too many are hurt, and another fight could crush them.”

“Doesn’t seem like we have much choice, princess,” Puck said as I spotted the rebel leader arguing with Diode under the limbs of the giant tree. Glitch’s face was strained, and the hacker elf’s eyes whirled and spun as he gestured frantically.

“Glitch!” I sprinted up to him, dodging a hound, which snarled as I barely avoided a collision. “Hey, I need to talk to you!” Glitch looked up and winced when he saw who it was.

“What do you want, your highness? I’m a little busy at the moment.”

“What are you doing?” I asked as I caught up, Diode scrambling aside. “You can’t make your people fight now! We’re about to join Summer and Winter and we need everyone we can get. If you fight now, so soon after the last battle, you could lose everyone!”

“I’m aware of that, your highness!” Glitch snapped in return, his spikes flaring angrily. “But we don’t have much of a choice, do we? We can’t run—they’ll just hunt us down out there. We can’t hide—there’s really nowhere to go. All we can do is make our stand here. Thankfully, that’s not the false king’s full army, just a few attack squads. The real army is still on its way to the wyldwood, with the moving fortress I might add, and if we don’t take care of this little problem now, we won’t have a chance of joining Summer and Winter. Now, get out of my way. I should be at the front when the fighting starts.”

“Wait!” I grabbed his sleeve as he brushed past, and he whirled angrily. “There is one more option. We came up through the packrat tunnels beneath the tower. We could escape that way.”

“The tunnels?” Glitch shook off my hand. “Those tunnels run for miles. It’s a gigantic maze down there. We could wander for days.”

“Not me.” I still didn’t know how I was so familiar with the tunnels, but once I said the words, I knew they were true. “I know the way. I can get everyone through safely.”

He looked disbelieving, and my temper flared. “It’s either that or lose everyone before the war even starts! Dammit, Glitch, you have to start trusting me!”

“Do it,” Ash said softly, locking gazes with the Iron faery. “You know she’s right.”

Glitch sighed noisily, stabbing his hands through his hair. “You sure you know the way?” he asked me.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“All right,” he said slowly. “Fine. We’ll put our lives in your hands once more, your highness. Diode, spread the word. Tell everyone to meet at the central chamber and be ready to march.”

“Yes, sir.” Diode shot me a relieved look and scampered off. Glitch watched him go, then turned to glare at me with narrowed violet eyes. “This better work. You’re a gigantic pain in the ass, you know that, your highness?”

“One who’s about to save yours,” I returned, earning an appreciative snort from Puck. Glitch rolled his eyes and stalked off, and we made our way to the center of the ruins.

NOT FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, the entire rebel army was gathered beneath the branches of the great oak, armed and armored, ready to march. I was wondering how quickly we could get all the rebels down into the tunnels when Diode approached and informed us the trapdoor we came through wasn’t the only one, that there were several scattered throughout the tower, and one of them was in the center chamber, right below the tree. He was pointing out that it was buried and nearly hidden in the roots of the oak, when Glitch came in, his hair snapping wildly as he leaped onto the trunk.

“They’re almost to the tower. We need to go, now!”

Working together, Ash, Puck, and Glitch hauled up the trapdoor, letting it drop open with a ringing clang that echoed throughout the room. Straightening, Glitch looked to me and gestured to the gaping hole, leading down into darkness. “After you, your highness. Diode, go with the princess to make sure everyone knows to follow her.”

“What about you?”

“I’m staying topside to make sure everyone is through.” Glitch nodded to the stocky dwarf with the mechanical arm, waiting stoically behind us. “When everyone is down, Torque and I will follow and seal the tunnel behind us. We’re likely not coming back here again.”

“But—”

“I’ll worry about blocking our escape, you worry about not getting us lost down there.” Glitch handed me a flashlight and pointed to the hole. “Now move, before they’re at our door!”

Switching on the flashlight, I descended into the tunnels.

The musty darkness closed around me, smelling of dust, mold, and wet rock, strange and familiar at the same time. Ash dropped next to me, then Puck, and then Diode, his glowing numbered eyes seeming to float in the darkness. I wondered where Grimalkin was, and hoped he got out safely.

The hacker elf swept a nervous gaze around the tunnels, eyes spinning anxiously. “Are you sure you know the way?” he muttered, trying to sound confident, but it came out as more of a squeak. I swept my flashlight around the underground passageway and smiled in relief. Everything was familiar. I knew exactly where to go.

“Diode, start sending them down. Tell everyone to follow me.”

I stepped forward, and the rebels began dropping through the trapdoor, lanterns and flashlights swaying in the darkness. At first, it felt strange, being at the head of a huge army, feeling their eyes on my back as I led them through the tunnels. But soon, the crunch of feet and the wavering lights behind me faded into background noise, until I almost didn’t notice them.

Several minutes later, a boom rocked the passages behind us, shaking the floor and raining dust on everyone. Diode squawked in fear, Puck braced himself against a wall, and Ash grabbed my arm, holding me steady as I staggered.

“What was that?” the hacker elf cried as the dust finally cleared. Coughing, I waved my hand in front of my face and looked back at the rebels, getting to their feet and looking around nervously.

I shared a glance with Ash and Puck. “Glitch must’ve collapsed the tunnels,” I said, picking up the flashlight I’d dropped. “It was the only way to keep the false king’s forces from following us.”

“What?” Diode looked back fearfully, eyes whirling. “I thought he was just going to seal the doors. So, we can’t return to base?”

“He never meant to come back here,” I murmured, shining the light beam into the maze before us. “There’s no turning back now. The only choice is to move on.”

TIME HAD NO MEANING in the sunless corridors of the packrat tunnels. We might’ve been traveling for hours, or days. The tunnels all looked the same: dark, eerie, filled with strange odds and ends, like an abandoned computer monitor, or the severed head of a doll. After the explosion, Glitch would join me at the head of the march every so often, if only to make sure I still knew where I was going. After about the sixth time, he began to get on my nerves.

“Yes, I still know where I’m going!” I snapped as he emerged beside me yet again, cutting him off before he could say anything. Ash walked on my other side, silent and protective, but I caught him rolling his eyes as Glitch came up.

The rebel leader scowled. “Relax, your highness. I wasn’t going to ask this time.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Puck said, falling into step beside him. “You’re gonna make me lose my bet with ice-boy. Come on, be a sport. Say it one more time, for me?”

“What I was going to ask,” Glitch continued, ignoring Puck, “is how much longer till we’re out? My troops are getting tired—we can’t keep this up much longer without a break.”

I frowned and looked at Ash. “How long have we been walking?”

He shrugged. “Hard to tell. A day, perhaps. Maybe longer.”

“Really?” It didn’t seem that long to me. I didn’t feel tired. In fact, the longer we traveled, the more energy I had—the same kind of energy that had drawn me to Machina’s tree. But this was a darker power, bitter and ancient, and I suddenly knew where it was coming from.

“We must be getting close to Ferrum’s chamber,” I muttered, and Glitch’s eyebrows rose.

“Ferrum? The old king Ferrum?”

“You know about him?”

“I helped Machina overthrow him.” Glitch was staring at me in disbelief. “I led the charge to the throne room with Virus and Ironhorse. You mean to tell me that he’s still alive?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not anymore. He was here when I first came to the Iron Realm, on the way to get my brother back. The packrats still worshipped him, but he was terrified Machina would find him again. I think he finally faded away, and the packrats moved on when he died.”

“Huh.” Glitch shook his head in wonder. “I can’t believe the old coot stayed alive for so long. If I had known about him, you can bet I would’ve searched every tunnel in the Iron Realm until I found him and put him out of his misery.”

I looked at him in horror. “Why? He seemed harmless to me. Just a sad, angry old man.”

“You don’t know what he was like before.” Glitch’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t there when he was king. Ferrum was paranoid, terrified that someone would try to take his crown away. I was one of the newest lieutenants, but Ironhorse told me that with every new Iron fey that appeared, Ferrum grew more afraid and angry. It would’ve been best if he had stepped down, handed the throne to a successor. He was old and obsolete, and we all knew it. In this realm, the old move out to make room for the new. But Ferrum refused to give up his power, even though his bitterness was corrupting the land around him. Machina pleaded with him to reconsider his right to rule, to step down gracefully and hand the responsibility to someone else.”

“Ferrum told me Machina took his throne out of a lust for power, because he wanted it for himself.”

Glitch snorted. “Machina was one of Ferrum’s strongest supporters. The rest of us—me, Virus, and Ironhorse—were getting tired of Ferrum’s threats, of the constant fear that one of us could be next. But Machina told us to be patient, and we were more loyal to him than our crazy king. Then the day came when Ferrum’s jealous paranoia finally got the better of him, and he tried to kill Machina, stabbing at him when his back was turned. His last mistake, I’m afraid. Machina realized Ferrum was no longer fit to rule and gathered his own supporters to take the king off the throne. We were only too happy to comply.”

I felt dazed. Everything I thought I knew about Machina was wrong. “But…Machina still wanted to take over the Nevernever,” I protested. “He wanted to eradicate the old faeries and make a kingdom of Iron fey.”

“Machina was ever the strategist.” Glitch shrugged, unconcerned. “He knew Ferrum’s way—hiding in fear from the courts and hoping they wouldn’t see us—wasn’t going to work much longer. The Iron Kingdom was growing faster than ever. We couldn’t hide anymore. Sooner or later, the courts would find out, and then what? What do you think would happen when they discovered a whole kingdom of faeries born from the very thing that could kill them? Machina knew there would be a war. He figured it would be best if we struck first.”

“Too bad Meghan had to ruin it for you,” Puck added, smirking at the back of Glitch’s head. Glitch turned to him and matched his sneer.

“It won’t matter if the false king conquers the Nevernever now, will it?” he countered. “I’ll still be here, and so will all the Iron fey, but you oldbloods will become a thing of the past. And not even her highness will be able to stop it.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I snapped, turning on him. “I’ll stop the false king, just like I did Machina.”

“Glad to hear it.” Glitch leveled a stare at me. “But did you ever think about how you’re going to stop the spread of the Iron Realm? Just because the false king is gone doesn’t mean we’re going away as well, princess. The Iron Kingdom will continue to grow and change the Nevernever, and in the end the courts will come after us anyway. I agree that, right now, we have to stop the false king, but you’re only delaying the inevitable.”

“There has to be a way,” I muttered. “You’re all faeries, you use glamour the same way. You’re just a little different, that’s all.”

“We’re not,” Glitch said firmly, “a little different. Our glamour kills oldbloods. Summer magic is deadly to us, as well. If you think we can hold hands and be friends, princess, you’re only fooling yourself. But we need to stop soon, or this army will be too exhausted to fight anything.”

I shook my head. “No, we have to keep moving. At least until we’re out of the tunnels.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I closed my eyes. “He’s almost there.”

All three faeries stared at me. “How do you know?” Ash asked softly.

“I can feel him.” Goose bumps rose along my arms, and I hugged myself, shivering. “I can feel the land…crying out where he passes. It feels…” I paused, searching for words. “It feels like someone is dragging a blade across the surface, leaving a scar behind. I’ve been able to sense him ever since we passed Ferrum’s old chamber. The false king…he’s getting close to the wyldwood now, and he’s waiting for me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO THE LAST NIGHT

Eventually, we came out of the tunnels.

The night was remarkably clear as we set up camp, a tattered, ragtag army pitching tents on the edge of a bubbling magma lake, the air smelling of sulphur and brimstone. I didn’t want to camp so close to the lake but Glitch overrode me, saying the smell would mask our presence, and besides his army was exhausted thanks to my forced march through the packrat tunnels. Even Ash and Puck were tired; they wouldn’t say anything, but the gaunt looks and pale faces told me they weren’t feeling the best. Their amulets were almost used up. The Iron Realm was finally taking its toll.

“Go lie down,” I told them both, once Glitch had left to help the army pitch camp. “You’re both exhausted, and we’re not doing anything else tonight. Get some rest.”

Puck snorted. “My, aren’t we bossy today,” he said, though it lacked his usual energy. “Give a girl an army and it goes straight to her head.” He yawned then, scrubbing his scalp. “Right, then. If anyone needs me, I’ll be passed out in my tent, trying to forget where I am. Oh, look, demon fey, lake of liquid hot magma—does this remind you of anything?” He grimaced, giving me a weak grin. “When I said I’d follow you to hell and back, I wasn’t trying to be literal, princess. Ah, well.” He lifted one hand in a cheerful wave. “See you tomorrow, lovebirds.”

“What about you?” Ash asked as Puck sauntered off, whistling loudly. “You’ve been walking just as long as the rest of us. We won’t have another chance to rest before we reach the battleground.”

A flash of movement caught my attention. For a moment, I thought I saw a furry gray cat leap onto a boulder near the edge of the lake. But the air around him shimmered with heat, and he was gone. “I know,” I said, squinting in the hot, dry air. “And it might sound strange, but I feel fine. You go on,” I continued, gazing up at him. “I know you’re tired. Get some rest before the battle. I’ll be around.”

He didn’t argue, which showed me just how exhausted he was. Stepping close, he placed a soft kiss on my forehead and walked off toward the ring of tents farthest from the lake. I watched him until he vanished behind an old, twisted monolith, then I wandered down to the lake edge.

This close to the lava, my skin felt like it would peel off my bones if I scratched at it, and I didn’t dare venture too close to the edge. One slip or stumble, and it would end very badly. Magma bubbled sluggishly, curling in slow, hypnotic patterns of orange and gold, strangely beautiful in the hellish glow. For a moment, I had the brief, crazy urge to skip a pebble across the glowing surface, then decided that would probably be a bad idea.

“The Molten Pool,” said a voice beside me, and Grimalkin appeared atop a boulder, his whiskers glowing red in the light. I was relieved to see him, though I knew he could take care of himself. “In the center of the Obsidian Plains. Ironhorse told me about this. These were his lands, back in the days of King Machina.”

“Ironhorse.” I leaned back against the rock and gazed out over the pool. The boulder was warm to the touch, even through my armor. “I wish he could’ve been here to see this,” I muttered, imagining the huge, black-iron horse standing proudly at the other side of the lake. “I wish we could’ve brought him home.”

“There is no use in wishing for the impossible, human.” Grimalkin sat down, curling his tail around himself, as we both stared out over the lake. “Ironhorse knew what he had to do. Do not let human guilt distract you from your duty, for Ironhorse did not.”

I sighed. “Is that what you had to say to me, Grim? Don’t feel guilty for a friend’s death?”

“No.” The cat twitched an ear and stood, facing me directly. “I have come to tell you that I am leaving, and I did not want you worrying about my whereabouts on the eve of battle. There are more important things to focus on. So…I am leaving.”

I pushed myself off the rock and turned to face him. “Why?”

“Human, my part here is done.” Grimalkin regarded me with what could almost be affection. “Tomorrow, you march into battle with an army of Iron fey at your back. There is no place for me in this fight—I am under no illusion that I am a warrior.” He stepped forward, ancient golden eyes staring into mine, reflecting the light of the pool. “I have brought you as far as I can. It is time for you to step forward on your own and claim your destiny. Besides…” Grimalkin sat back, gazing out across the lake, the hot breeze ruffling his whiskers. “I have my own contract to fulfill, before this is all over.”

“You made a contract?”

He gave me his disdainful look, twitching his tail. “You don’t believe Ironhorse asked for nothing in return, do you? Really, human, sometimes I despair. But the night is waning, and I must go.” Leaping gracefully off the rock, he began trotting away, bottlebrush tail held straight up and proud.

I swallowed hard. “Grim? Will I see you again?”

The cait sith turned back, cocking his head. “Now, that is a strange question,” he mused. “Will you see me again, though I myself am no oracle and know nothing of the future? This I cannot tell you. I will never understand humans, but I suppose it is part of your charm.” He sniffed again, waving his plumed tail lazily. “Do try to stay out of trouble, human. I will be terribly annoyed if you manage to get yourself killed.”

“Grim, wait. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Grimalkin smiled. “I am a cat.”

And, just like that, he was gone.

I smiled faintly and wiped a stray tear from my face. Grim had always vanished and reappeared at will, but this time it was different. I suddenly knew I wouldn’t see him again, not for a long time anyway.

“Goodbye, Grimalkin,” I whispered, and in an even softer voice, lest the cunning feline be nearby listening, added, “thank you.”

I shivered in the hot wind, already feeling his loss. How many more would I lose before this was over? Somewhere out there, closer than ever, the false king was closing on the armies of Summer and Winter. Tomorrow was the moment of truth. Tomorrow was Judgment Day, where we would either be victorious, or die.

I suddenly wished I could talk to my family. I wanted to see Mom’s face again, hold Ethan and ruffle his hair one last time. I even wanted to see Luke, to tell him I forgave him for never noticing me, never seeing me. Mom was happy with him, and if she hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have Ethan as a brother. I wouldn’t have a family. My throat closed up, and longing twisted my stomach into a painful knot. Would they miss me, if I never came home? Would they stop looking for me eventually, the daughter who vanished one night and never returned?

The wind howled across the plain, lonely and desolate, as the full realization hit me and clutched my heart with icy fingers. I could die tomorrow. This was a war, and there would be numerous casualties on both sides. The false king himself could be too much, if I even figured out a way to get into his fortress. We could very well lose. I could be struck down, and my family would never know what happened, what I was fighting for. If I died, who would tell them? Oberon? No, if I lost, he would fade away, as well. If I lost, it would be over. The end of Faery. Forever.

Oh, God.

I was shaking now, unable to stop myself. This was really it. The last battle, and it all rested on me. What if I failed? If I couldn’t beat the false king, they would all die—Oberon, Grim, Puck, Ash…

Ash.

Shivering, I hurried back to the camp, past the cluster of tents set up around the lake. The camp was quiet and still, unlike the wild, prebattle revel of the Summer and Winter camps. I suddenly understood the significance and would have welcomed the distraction tonight. Too many dark thoughts were swirling around my head, so many emotions that I felt I would burst. But, despite everything I felt and the crazy emotions churning inside me, it all came back to him.

I found his tent sitting on the edge of camp, farther out from the rest. I didn’t know how I knew it was his; all the tents looked basically the same. But I could feel him, as surely as I felt my own heartbeat. For a moment, I hesitated at the entrance, my hand poised to push back the cloth. What would I say to him, the last night we could be alive?

Gathering my courage, I pushed open the flap and stepped inside.

Ash lay on his back in the corner, one arm flung over his eyes, his breathing slow and deep. He was shirtless, and the amulet gleamed against his sculpted chest, almost completely black now, a drop of ink against his pale skin. I was surprised he hadn’t heard me come in; the normal Ash would’ve been up and on his feet with his sword drawn in the blink of an eye. He must’ve been truly exhausted from our march through the tunnels. Taking advantage of the moment, I watched him, admiring the lean, hard muscles, gazing at the scars slashed across his pale skin. His chest rose and fell with each quiet breath, and just watching him sleep made me feel a bit calmer.

“How long are you going to keep staring at me?”

I jumped. He hadn’t moved, but one corner of his mouth was curved in a slight smile. “How long did you know I was here?”

“I felt you the moment you came to the tent and stood outside, wondering if you should come in.” Ash removed his arm and shifted to perch on an elbow, watching me. His expression was solemn now, silver eyes bright in the gloom. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed. “I just…I wanted…oh, dammit…” Blushing, I trailed off, gazing at the floor. “I’m scared,” I finally admitted in a whisper. “Tomorrow’s the war and we could die and I won’t ever see my family again and…and I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Ash’s gaze softened. Without a word, he shifted back on the cot, making room for me. Heart pounding, I crossed the room and lay down next to him, feeling his arm wrap around my stomach, pulling me close. I felt his heartbeat against my back and closed my eyes, tracing idle patterns on his arm, brushing a faint scar on the back of his wrist.

“Ash?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you scared? Of dying?”

He was quiet a moment, one hand playing with my hair, his breath fanning across my cheek. “Perhaps not in the way you would think,” he murmured at last. “I’ve lived a long time, been in many battles. Of course, there was always that knowledge that I could die, but there have been times I’ve wondered if I shouldn’t give up, let it happen.”

“Why?”

“To escape the emptiness. I was dead inside for so long. Not existing didn’t seem any different than what I was doing.” He buried his face in my shoulder, and I shivered. “It’s different now, though. I have something to fight for. I’m not afraid to die, but I don’t intend to give up, either.” His lips touched my hair, very lightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured. “You are my heart, my life, my entire existence.”

My eyes watered, and my heart thudded in my ears. “Ash,” I whispered again, clenching my fists in the quilt to stop the shaking. I knew what I wanted, but I was still afraid, afraid that I wouldn’t do it right, afraid of the unknown, afraid that I would somehow disappoint him. Ash kissed the back of my neck, and I felt his arm tighten, fingers digging into my shirt. I saw a flare of color behind me, bright red desire, felt him tremble as he struggled to control himself, and all my doubts melted away.

I shifted in his arms, rolling toward him so that he was propped on an elbow above me, eyes shining in the darkness. And I let him see the need, the longing, rising up like tendrils of colored smoke to dance with his. I didn’t have to say anything. He drew in a quiet breath and lowered his head, touching his forehead to mine.

“Are you sure?” His voice was barely a whisper, a ghost in the dark.

I nodded, tracing my fingers down his cheek, marveling as he closed his eyes. “We could die tomorrow,” I whispered back. “I want to be with you tonight. I don’t want to have any regrets, when it comes to us. So, yes, I’m sure. I love you, Ash.”

My voice was lost then, as Ash closed the final few inches and kissed me. And in the quiet stillness before dawn, on the brink of a war that could tear us apart, our auras danced and twined in the darkness, coiling around each other until they finally merged, becoming one.