The Iron Queen

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE THE BATTLE FOR FAERY

When I woke, the tent was still dark, though a faint gray light peeked through the flaps. Ash was already gone, typical for him, but my body still glowed from the aftermath of last night. I could feel him now, stronger than ever. He was close. He was—

Right beside me.

I jumped a bit, and turned to see him sitting beside the cot, fully clothed, his sword across his lap, watching me. He wasn’t smiling, but his face was relaxed, his eyes peaceful.

“Hey,” I whispered, smiling and reaching out to him. His fingers wrapped around mine and he kissed the back of my hand, before standing.

“It’s almost time,” he said quietly, tucking his sword into his belt again. And the looming war descended like a hammer, shattering the tranquility. “Better get dressed—Glitch will be looking for us. Or worse—”

“Puck,” I groaned and struggled upright, searching for my clothes. Ash silently turned his back while I dressed, facing the door, and I bit down a giggle at his chivalry. Once I shrugged into the dragon-scale armor, I turned to show I was ready to follow him out. But Ash crossed the tiny space between us and drew me close, fingers combing my tangled hair, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking…” he mused as I slid my arms around his neck, gazing up at him. “When this is over, let’s disappear for a while. Just the two of us. We can check on your family first, and then we can go. I can show you the Nevernever like you’ve never seen it before. Forget the courts, the Iron fey, everything. Just you and me and nothing else.”

“I’d like that,” I whispered. Ash smiled, brushed a kiss to my lips, and pulled away.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” His eyes gleamed, determined and eager, and filled with something I hadn’t see before. Hope. “Let’s go win a war.”

We stepped out of the tent together, not touching, but I didn’t need to touch him to feel him, right beside me. He was part of my soul now, and that somehow made this all the more real. The battle loomed over our heads, close and ominous, made all the more threatening by the eerie red clouds and the ash flakes drifting from them, as if the very sky was falling apart. I gazed up at the sky with a fierce determination. I would win this war. I never wanted anything like this.

“There you are.” Glitch emerged from the crowds, dressed for battle with a spear that crackled at the tip, shedding sparks of lightning. “We’re almost ready. My scouts have reported the battle has already started, that Summer and Winter have already engaged the false king’s forces. The entire army has breached the line into the wyldwood—it looks like this is it.”

My blood ran cold. “What about the fortress?”

“Not there yet.” Glitch planted the butt of the spear in the ground. “The forest is slowing it down. But it’s close. We have to hurry. Where’s Goodfellow?”

“Right here.” Puck appeared, a smug grin on his face, carrying a long pole beneath his arm. “Been working on something, princess. Last night, I was wondering how the courts were going to tell us apart from the false king’s army. Bad Iron fey, good Iron fey—they all look the same to me. Sooooo…” He swept the pole up with a flourish, and a bright green banner snapped open at the top, the silhouette of a great oak splayed proudly across the front. “I wanted to make it a picture of a flower or butterfly,” Puck said, smiling at my awed look, “but I didn’t think that would strike fear into the heart of the false king.”

“Not bad, Goodfellow,” Glitch said with grudging respect.

“Oh, so glad you think so, socket-head. My mad crocheting skills finally came in handy for something.”

“In any case,” Glitch added, rolling his eyes, “we would be proud to carry that into battle for you.”

My heart swelled. All these people were willing to follow me, to die to save Faery. I couldn’t fail them. I wouldn’t.

At that moment, a great commotion came from the edge of the camp, Iron fey shouting in alarm, tents flung aside, and the sound of thundering footsteps. A moment later, the crowds fell back as a group of huge black horses galloped into camp, skidding to a stop before me.

I gasped. They looked like smaller, sleeker versions of Ironhorse, made of black metal with burning crimson eyes and nostrils that breathed flame. As I stared, one of them stepped forward and tossed his head at me.

“Meghan Chase?” he asked in that same regal, noble air, his deep voice accompanied by a blast of cinders. I blinked rapidly and nodded.

“One called Grimalkin sent us.” The Ironhorse look-alike nodded to the others. “He carries with him the spirit of our progenitor, the first Iron Horse, and has compelled us to join you and your cause against the False Monarch. Out of respect for the Great One, we have agreed. Do you accept our assistance?”

Ironhorse, I thought sadly. You’re still helping us, even now. “I accept your offer,” I told the first horse, who nodded regally and bent his foreleg, lowering himself into a bow.

“Then, it is done,” he said, as the others bent their front legs and did the same. “For this conflict only, we will carry you and your officers into battle. Afterward, our contract is done, and you will release us.”

“Oh, goodie,” Puck said as I stepped forward. “I’m going to have a rash in the most uncomfortable places.”

I swung onto the horse’s back, feeling thick iron muscles shift under me as he rose, clanking and groaning. His metallic skin was warm to the touch, especially near my legs, as if a great fire burned inside him. I remembered the flames roaring in Ironhorse’s belly, visible through his exposed ribs and pistons, and felt another ripple of sadness at his loss.

Ash, Puck, and Glitch watched me from the backs of the metal horses, who snorted flame and tossed their heads, eager and ready. The banner was hoisted up, the black oak against a background of green flapping in the wind. I gazed out over the solemn, upturned faces and took a deep breath.

“Summer and Winter are not your enemies!” I called, my voice echoing into the silence. “They are different, yes, but they are fighting the enemy that you hate—a tyrant who seeks to destroy everything King Machina stood for. We cannot abandon them now! Peace with the courts is possible, but the false king will corrupt and enslave everyone if he wins. The only thing necessary for evil to conquer is for us and those like us to do nothing, and I will not sit by and let that happen! We will take this fight to the false king, and we will show him what happens when we stand united against him! Who is with me?”

The roar of the army was like a sudden tornado, as hundreds of voices rose up as one. I drew my sword and raised it over my head, adding to the sea of weapons flashing in the light.

“Let’s go win a war!”

I HEARD THE SOUNDS of the battle before I saw it. They echoed through the trees that marked the edge of the Iron Realm: shouts and screams, howls of fury, and weapons clashing in the wind. Every so often there was the boom of gunfire, or the thunderous roar of flame. Above the tree line, a huge emerald dragon swooped into the air, paused a moment, then dove out of sight again.

Spikerail, the horse I was riding, snorted and tossed his head. “The battle has already been joined,” he announced, nearly prancing with excitement. “Shall we give the order to charge?”

“Not yet,” I replied, putting a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get through the trees, at least. I want to see the battle, first.”

He pawed the ground impatiently, but kept his pace to a fast walk as we entered the forest. The metal trunks closed around us, dark and twisted, smelling of rust and battery acid. Above the clash of battle, I heard something else in the woods—a great snapping and groaning, as if something huge were pushing through the trees.

“Faster,” I told Spikerail, and he broke into a trot, stirring up clouds of ash as we moved through the forest. The sounds of battle drew closer.

And then the trees fell away, and we were gazing down on mass chaos.

I’d seen the fey in battle twice now, but this seemed even more vicious, more desperate, as if hell itself had been released onto the field. Troops swarmed each other like ants, hacking with ancient and modern weapons, blades and armor glinting in the swirling ash storm. Iron beetles lumbered through the mobs, the gunmen on their backs blasting away. Creatures plunged and dove through the air; an icy-blue dragon, its scales streaked with red, landed on the back of an iron bug, blasted the musket elves with a deadly spray of frost before they could react, and swooped away again. A gryphon, darting by with an elfin rider, was snatched out of the air by a clockwork golem and smashed against a rock. Two metallic praying mantises double-teamed a Summer knight, slashing at him with their massive, curved blades, until he slipped in the ash and was instantly beheaded.

The battle wasn’t going well, it seemed. There was a lot more silver and gray on the field than green and gold, blue and black.

“Looks like we got here just in time,” Puck mused beside me. “Ready for the ‘here comes the cavalry’ charge, princess?”

“If we hit their right flank,” Ash said, observing the battle with narrowed silver eyes, “we may surprise them where their line is thin and tear through them before they can react.”

I met both their gazes, fierce, protective, blazing with determination and love, and felt no fear. Well, maybe a little fear, but it was swallowed by resolve and the almost painful need to win this fight. Drawing my blade, I wheeled Spikerail to face the army—my army, truth be told—and looked out over the taut, waiting forces.

“For Faery!” I called, raising my sword, and the rebels took up the cry. A few hundred voices rose into the air, roaring, cheering, stabbing their weapons skyward. My adrenaline soared as the crescendo echoed around me, and I howled again, adding my voice to the mix. With a shrill whinny, Spikerail reared, pawing the air, and plunged down the slope.

Wind whipped at my hair and ash swirled around me, stinging my eyes. My ears were filled with pounding hoof-beats and the roar of the army behind us. We neared the ocean of battle, the rise and fall of soldiers like waves on the shore, the scream and clash of weapons, and roared as we came in, like a hurricane coming to land. The false king’s army turned just as we hit them, their eyes going wide, desperately readying to meet this new threat, but by then it was too late. We slammed into them with the force of a tidal wave, swift and vengeful, and all hell broke loose around me.

Spikerail plunged through the masses, blasting and breathing flame, powerful hooves lashing out at those who got too close. I struck out from his back, stabbing at the false king’s army with my sword. Everything was chaos. I was vaguely aware of Ash and Puck fighting close to me, fending off attacks from all sides. I saw Ash stab one Iron knight through the chest and hurl an ice spear through another. I saw Puck throw what looked like a fuzzy golf ball at a group of Iron knights, where it erupted into an angry grizzly. Glitch whirled his spear in a deadly circle, lightning arcing from the tip, stabbing the point through the knights’ armor to fry them to blackened husks.

Where’s Oberon? I wondered, blocking a spear thrust at my face, kicking the knight away. I had to find him, to tell him that the rebels were not the enemy, that they were here to help. I spotted Glitch through a lull in the fighting and nudged Spikerail in his direction. If Glitch was there as well, to explain himself and his actions, perhaps Oberon would listen.

“Glitch!” I called as we drew close. “Come with m—”

A bellow interrupted us, and a huge clockwork golem plowed through the ranks, swinging its club and sending rebels flying. It caught Glitch by surprise, and the rebel leader tried to dodge, too late. The metal club caught his horse’s shoulder and knocked both of them several feet through the air. I screamed, but my voice was lost in the cacophony, and the golem lumbered closer to the motionless Glitch, raising its club for the killing blow.

Ash suddenly wheeled his horse around and charged the golem, hurling an ice dagger that shattered off the metal skull, making its head snap up. Roaring, it swung at Ash, and my heart leaped to my throat as the huge club came swooshing down. But at the last moment, Ash sprang from his mount’s back and landed on the golem’s arm, running up to its shoulder. As the golem pulled back with a roar, thrashing and flailing, the Ice Prince raised his sword and stabbed it through the construct’s neck. There was a flash of blue light, and the golem bellowed, falling to its knees. Ash leaped off the giant, landing on his feet in the grass, as the golem shuddered and collapsed into a hundred pieces of frozen clockwork, rolling through the ashes.

“I’m not impressed, ice-boy!” Puck yelled, kicking away an Iron knight. “Do that again, only this time, make it dance!”

Ignoring Puck, I turned Spikerail and hurried over to where Glitch had fallen. His horse lay in an ash drift, struggling to get up, and Glitch lay a few feet away, his spikes snapping feebly.

“Glitch!” I leaped off Spikerail’s back and ran to the prone figure, kneeling beside him in the ashes. “Are you all right? Talk to me.” Ash and Puck loomed to either side, protecting us from surrounding chaos. I reached down and shook his limp arm. “Glitch!”

He groaned and cracked open his eyes. “Ow,” he moaned. “Dammit, what hit me?” He tried sitting up and winced, grabbing his arm. “Ouch. That’s not good.”

“Can you stand?” I asked anxiously.

He nodded and tried to get up, but gasped and sank back again, gritting his teeth. “Nope. Ribs broken, as well. Sorry, highness.” Glitch swore and shook his head. “I might have to sit this one out.”

“That’s fine. We just have to get you out of here.” I looked around, flinching as Puck leaped between me and a clockwork hound, cutting the dog out of the air. I spotted Glitch’s horse, finally on his feet though looking a bit dazed, and gave a shrill whistle. “Coaleater!” I yelled, remembering the horse’s name. “Over here!

The horse limped up, and we helped Glitch heave himself onto its back. “Take him to safety,” I told the horse, who bobbed his head in consent, seemingly glad to get out of the fight. “Make sure he gets the help he needs. I’ll take it from here.”

“Meghan.” Glitch’s voice, though reedy with pain, was firm. The rebel leader gazed down at me and nodded, once. “I was wrong about you. Good luck. Win this war for us.”

“I will,” I replied, as Coaleater moved carefully but swiftly out of sight, disappearing into the swirling ash. Now it was the three of us, just like before. Puck and Ash pressed close, and I narrowed my eyes, peering through the whirling bodies. “Let’s find Oberon, right now.”

I threw myself back into the fight, Puck and Ash right beside me. Together, we carved our way through the seemingly endless ranks of Iron fey. Sweat ran into my eyes, my dragon-scale armor took a hundred or so painful bangs and scrapes, and my arms burned from swinging my sword, but we continued to fight, inching our way across the field. I became lost in the dance: block, swing, parry, dodge, stab, repeat, always moving on, always pressing forward. An iron beetle bore down on us, muskets firing, and I drew on the Iron glamour to tear the bolts from its legs at the joints, fighting the nausea that overtook me right after. The beetle crashed to the ground and was quickly overrun. Another clockwork giant stumbled into our midst, and this time both Ash and Puck went after it, Puck turning into a raven and pecking at its eyes, while Ash darted around and leaped onto its back, plunging his blade through its chest. Glamour swirled around me, Iron, Summer, and Winter, though the magic of the Iron fey was much stronger here. I could feel it, pulsing through the land, lending strength to both the rebels and the forces of the false king. I could feel the core of the Iron glamour drawing closer, pulsing and angry, corrupting everything in its path.

For just a moment, I was distracted, and that was long enough for something to slip through my guard. The tip of a spear cut through my defenses and slammed me in the shoulder, not enough to pierce the dragon-scale, but hard enough to rock me back and send a flare of pain up my arm. I dropped my sword, and the knight pulled back for another shot.

A huge, gnarled fist closed over his head, crushing the helmet like a grape and lifting the knight high into the air. I gaped as a monstrous, treelike being with thick, thorny skin and a crown of antlers flung the knight away, then turned to knock back a whole platoon with its treelike limbs. Grasses and flowers bloomed briefly where it stepped, as the great tree creature moved forward with surprising speed and grace, looming above my head, as if to protect me. Then its gaze swept down, and I was staring into the ancient, familiar face of the Summer King.

“You’ve returned.” Oberon’s voice shook the ground, deeper and lower than a thunderclap, and just as emotionless. The Seelie King gave no hint as to what he was feeling, if he felt anything when he saw me. “And you have brought more Iron fey to our territory.”

“They’re here to help us!” I yelled, snatching my sword and glaring up at him. He gazed back with impassive green eyes, and I stabbed a finger in his direction. “Don’t you dare turn on them, Father! They want the same thing you do!”

Oberon blinked, and I realized I had just called him father. Well, I was the Summer princess; it was useless to deny it any longer. “I make no promises,” the Seelie King said, and turned away, his giant limbs crushing another pair of Iron knights. “We shall see, after the battle, what to do with the intruders.”

Furious, I snarled a curse and turned on the Iron knight trying to rush me from behind. Stupid, unreasonable, uncompromising faeries! He’d better not try anything with the rebels when this was done. I’d given my word that they would be safe from him and Mab.

I stabbed my sword through the chest of an Iron knight, watched the empty armor clatter to the ground, and looked up for the next enemy. Only to find there wasn’t one. I looked around to see the false king’s forces pulling back, running away. As a tired cheer rose up from the army around us, I looked up to see Oberon, surrounded by the remains of countless Iron fey, crush a final golem into scrap metal and turn to me. A shiver went through the Summer King. He began shrinking, growing smaller and less…thorny…until he was as I remembered him. But his eyes, and the inflexibility on his face, remained.

“Why have you brought them here?” Oberon demanded, his cold gaze going to the rebels at my back. “More Iron fey to poison the land, more Iron fey that would destroy us.”

“No!” I stepped forward, instinctively shielding them behind me. “I told you before, they’re here to help. They want the false king gone, just like you.”

“And what then? Offer them sanctuary within our courts? Let them go back to the Iron Realm, so that it may continue to spread and corrupt our home?” Oberon seemed to grow in stature, though his size remained the same. The rebels murmured and cringed back as the Seelie King swept his arm over the crowd. “Every Iron fey, whether they are hostile or peaceful, is a danger to us. We will never be safe while they are alive. This is why we asked you to go into their realm and destroy the Iron King. You have failed us. And now, all of Faery will perish because of you.”

“I gave my word that they would be safe here!” I shouted, feeling Ash and Puck step up beside me. “If you attack them, you’ll make me your enemy, as well! And I don’t think you can afford an attack on two fronts, Father.”

“The girl is right.” A blast of icy cold, and Mab the Winter Queen swept up, her white battlegown streaked with splashes of red and black. “We waste time arguing here while our home is being destroyed around us. Let the rogue fey fight with us—there will be time later to decide their fate.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, either, but in another moment, it didn’t matter. A loud grinding, ripping sound echoed across the field, coming from the edge of the woods, like thousands of trees were being snapped at once. Branches shook violently, swaying like reeds in the wind, and my heart lurched as the massive bulk of the fortress broke through the edge of the woods, crushing trees beneath it, and dragged itself onto the field.

Up close, the false king’s fortress was even larger than I’d thought, casting a looming shadow across the battleground and blocking out the sky. Again, I was struck by how irregular it was, an accumulation of different parts—smokestacks, towers, balconies—thrown into place with no care as to how it looked, yet somehow held together. Smoke leaked from every crevice, billowing into the sky, and the entire thing moved forward with a cacophony of clanks and groans and squeals, sending chills down my spine.

As the armies of Summer and Winter drew back in shock from the monstrous structure, Ash grabbed my arm and pointed to the ground beneath it. “Look!” he said, his voice filled with horror and disbelief. “Look at what’s carrying it!”

I gasped, hardly comprehending what I saw. The fortress was being carried on the shoulders of hundreds, maybe thousands, of packrats. They shuffled forward in a daze, their eyes blank and glassy, moving across the field like ants with a giant grasshopper.

“Oh, God,” I whispered, stumbling back a step. “They don’t know what they’re doing. The false king must have enchanted them somehow.”

“Uh, enchanted or not, they’re not stopping,” Puck observed, looking nervous as the huge fortress crawled forward, moving at a slow but steady pace through the falling ash. “If we’re gonna get inside that thing and stop the false king, now would be a great time.”

“Attack!” roared Oberon, sweeping his arm toward the moving citadel. “All forces, stop that castle! Do not let it cross the lines!”

The armies surged forward again, both my Iron fey and the oldbloods, uncaring that they were suddenly fighting side by side. In the face of a much greater evil, they hurled themselves at the fortress, their battle cries rising into the air as one.

A flash of smoke and fire erupted from the fortress, and a moment later the explosion of a cannonball rocked the ground, sending several flying. Suddenly the air was filled with explosions, as the fortress opened fire on the advancing fey. Howls and screams rose into the air, and from the woods, coming from behind the fortress, another regiment of the false king’s swarmed onto the field.

“Reinforcements!” I gasped as the new army slammed into our forces. Drawing my sword, I turned to Ash and Puck. “Let’s go. One way or another, we have to get into that fortress.”

We charged the field, joining our allies in trying to hold the line. But the false king’s army was new and fresh, and most of our forces were already exhausted. More and more of our soldiers fell under the relentless push of the false king’s army, and the fortress continued to creep forward, peppering the ground with cannonballs and explosions. We were being pushed back. We were giving ground.

With a roar, the green Summer dragon swooped overhead, its shadow flashing over us, and landed on the castle, talons digging into the side. Snarling, the dragon ripped and tore at the fortress walls, smashing cannons and breathing fire at the faeries manning them. For a moment, my heart leaped with hope.

But then, the metal towers atop the castle glowed blue-white with energy, and an arc of lightning leaped outward, slamming into the dragon. The dragon screeched, going rigid, as more strands of deadly electricity coursed over and through it, lighting up the sky. It finally dropped off the castle, trailing smoke from its blackened scales, and crashed to the ground. It didn’t move again.

My spirits plummeted. We couldn’t do it. If a freaking dragon couldn’t get into the fortress, what chance did I have? Shearing through a wireman, I looked around the field and my heart dropped even lower. There didn’t seem to be many good guys left. Oberon was back in his tree-giant form, flinging soldiers left and right, and Mab was an icy whirlwind of death, surrounded by frozen corpses and suits of armor, but I couldn’t see much of our army through the masses of Iron knights and other false-king soldiers. Worse, they appeared to have us surrounded.

An explosion shook the ground, very close, and I staggered backward, showered with rocks and dirt. Ash and Puck stood back-to-back, fending off attacks from all sides, but they were being pushed back, as well. A cold numbness spread through my body. We were going to lose. I couldn’t get into the fortress, couldn’t beat the false king. His army was too much for us. We had failed. I had failed.

“Master!”

Something small and fast leaped at me. I reacted instinctively and swatted it from the air, smashing it to the ground.

“Ouch.”

“Razor!” I scooped up the gremlin, holding him at arm’s length to see him clearly. He buzzed with joy. “What are you doing here? I told you to go to Mag Tuiredh. Why did you follow me?”

“Razor help! Help Master! Wanted to find you!”

“I know, but I needed you to get the others!” Despair rose up like a wave, and I shook him, angry and frustrated. He squeaked. “Why didn’t you go to Mag Tuiredh? Why didn’t you do what I asked? Now we’re all going to die!”

“No die!” Razor squirmed from my grasp, hitting the dirt to bounce around my feet. “No die, no! Razor did what Master wanted! Look!”

He pointed. From the edge of the woods, over the roar of explosions and screams of battle, I saw thousands of tiny green lights. Eyes, all staring at me. I gasped, and as one, they all broke into a smile, neon-blue crescent grins floating in the air.

They spilled from the woods like a rush of ink, black against the ash-covered ground, thousands upon thousands of gremlins, flowing toward the castle. They swarmed over and around the Iron soldiers like rocks in a stream, unhindered and unstoppable. Several fey lashed out at them, and several gremlins fell, left behind by the mass, but there were just too many of them to stop. They scurried up to the fortress and leaped onto its walls, swarming it like army ants or hornets. Lightning flashed, blasting them from the walls, and gremlins fell like rain, but there were always more, hissing and buzzing, and suddenly, the entire fortress shuddered to a halt.

Razor laughed, clamping on to my leg. “See?” he crowed, crawling up to my shoulder. “We help! Razor help! Razor did good?”

I pried him off me and kissed the top of his head, ignoring the rather violent static shock I received. “You did awesome. Now, get to safety. I’ll take it from here.” He buzzed happily and darted off, vanishing into the crowd.

I took a deep breath and looked around. Ash and Puck had broken away from the main fighting to shield me from the masses coming forward. We were going to have to break through those lines, and quickly.

“Ash! Puck!” They whirled toward me, and I pointed forward. “The fortress defenses are down! I’m going in!”

“Hold!” Mab appeared before us, beautiful and frightening, her hair whipping about like snakes. “I will open a path for you,” she said, turning toward the raging battlefield. “This will take the last of my power, so be sure not to waste it, half-breed. Are you ready?”

Still reeling from the shock that Mab was helping me, I nodded. The Winter Queen raised her hand, and I felt glamour swirling around her, raw and powerful. She swept her arm down, and a blast of freezing, icicle-strewn wind shot forward, ripping into the crowd, pelting them with shards as sharp as razors. Iron fey screeched and fell back, blinded, covering their eyes and faces, and a path opened before us, leading straight to the castle.

“Go,” Mab hissed, her voice slightly strained, and we didn’t hesitate. Gripping my sword, with Ash leading and Puck close behind, we charged into the hole.

The fortress loomed overhead, still flashing and spitting lightning as the gremlins swarmed over it. The packrats seemed frozen in place, eyes blank, faces slack, unaware of the battle going on around them. They didn’t react as we reached the base of the castle and Ash leaped onto the edge.

I held my breath, praying he wouldn’t get blasted off like the dragon, but there were so many gremlins scurrying about, the defenses didn’t even notice us. Still, lightning flashed all around us, smelling of ozone and burning flesh, as Ash pulled me up and we pressed ourselves against the wall. Gremlins fell around us, charred and blackened, and I pressed my face into his shoulder.

“A door, a door, my kingdom for a door,” Puck muttered.

“There,” Ash said, pointing to a balcony several yards above us. “Come on. We’ll have to climb.”

Scaling the walls wasn’t difficult, though it was extremely nerve-racking with all the lighting and the shrieks of dying gremlins. But we reached the balcony in a short amount of time. A small iron door stood nestled in an alcove next to the railing, and I started toward it, eager to get out of the lightning storm. But before I was halfway across the balcony, the entire fortress trembled, like a dog shaking off water, and lurched into motion. I stumbled forward, slamming my shoulder into the door. It wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I wrenched the handle or threw myself against it.

“Dammit!” Puck yelped, ducking as a deadly bolt of electricity slashed down nearby, making my skin crawl. “We’re gonna have to find another way in, unless someone happens to have a key!”

The key! Reaching up, I yanked the chain from my neck and shoved the iron key into the hole beneath the handle, praying it would work. I heard a soft click, and slammed myself into the door once again, just as the fortress lurched forward. This time, the door flew inward, and I tumbled over the threshold, Puck and Ash close behind me. Then it slammed shut with a clang, trapping us inside the fortress of the false king.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR THE FALSE KING

Panting, I looked around us, grabbing a pipe to keep steady as the fortress shook and bounced and trembled, trying to buck the intruders off its back. The inside of the false king’s fortress looked much like the outside, thrown together with no thought to architectural soundness, or anything that made sense, really. Stairways ran into walls, doors hung from the ceiling, and hallways snaked off to nowhere or curled around themselves. Rooms and floors sat at weird angles, making it difficult to keep your balance, and were filled with strange odds and ends. A tricycle rolled by, banging into a staircase, and a lamp, hanging upside down from the ceiling, flickered erratically.

“Great. The false king’s fortress is a giant rabbit hole.” Puck ducked as a model plane flew by on a string, barely missing him. “How are we supposed to find anything in this mess?”

I closed my eyes, feeling the dark, Iron glamour pulsing all around me. In Machina’s tower, I’d known I would find the Iron King at the very top, close to the sky and the wind, waiting for me. Here, in this crowded, tangled burrow, I could feel him, too. The false king. He knew I was here, an intruder in his private warren. I could feel his glee, his anticipation, as the fortress itself suddenly turned its gaze inward, searching for us. For me.

I shivered and opened my eyes. “He’s at the very center,” I murmured, looping the chain, the watch, and the lifesaving key around my neck once more. “The heart of the fortress. And he’s waiting for us.”

“Then let’s not keep him,” Ash muttered, drawing his sword, which glowed like a beacon in the darkness. Huddled close, we crept forward, into the shadowed, tangled mess of the false king’s fortress.

We eased our way between mountains of junk, through rooms that made no sense, dodging trash and low-hanging cables. One time we followed a corridor that led us in a twisted spiral back to where we came. Another time we picked our way through a labyrinth of huge pipes, hissing steam. All the while, the dark glamour I felt grew stronger, more eager, the closer we came to the center.

And then, very suddenly, the close, crowded walls opened up, and we stumbled into a vast open arena. Thick black pipes held up the ceiling, hissing madly, and metal poles stuck out of the roof, threads of lightning arcing between them, causing the whole place to flicker like a strobe light.

In the center of the open space, an iron chair spiked up from the floor, polished and gleaming. Seated motionless on the throne, a body watched us, but under the flickering lights, it was difficult to see it clearly. Then a strand of lightning leaped from the ceiling and slithered rapidly over the throne, lighting it up like a Christmas tree, and I saw the face of the false king for the first time.

“You!” I gasped. My heart lurched, and my stomach dropped to my toes. Of course, it was him. How could I not have seen it before?

“Hello, Meghan Chase,” purred Ferrum, smiling at me. “I have been waiting for you.”

“FERRUM,” I WHISPERED, trying to match the figure of the false king with the sad, angry old man I’d met in the packrat tunnels. He was very much the same, withered and bent over, his arms and legs like brittle twigs and his white hair flowing almost to his feet. Voluminous black robes nearly swallowed his frail figure, and a twisted iron crown rested on his forehead, seeming to weigh him down. His skin had that same metallic tone, like he’d been dunked in liquid mercury, and the lightning crawling over his body didn’t seem to faze him a bit.

But he glowed with power now, a dark, purplish aura that surrounded him, like it was sucking in all the light. I could feel it pulling at me, trying to drain my life and glamour, suck me dry until I was an empty husk. I shuddered and stepped back, and Ferrum broke into a maniacal grin.

“Yes, you feel it, don’t you, girl?” Ferrum raised a claw and beckoned me forward, still smiling. “You feel the void, the vacuum, where my power used to lie. The power of the Iron King. The power you stole from me when you killed Machina!” Ferrum slammed his fist into the chair with a hollow boom, making me jump. I didn’t remember him being this strong.

“But now, you are here,” he finished, still gazing at me with those crazy, inhuman eyes. “And I will take back what is rightfully mine. For centuries have I waited for this day, when I can reclaim my throne and my right as king!” He leaned forward, speaking fervently, as if to convince us. “It will be different this time. Machina was right to fear the oldbloods. They will destroy us if we do not put them down first. When I kill you and my power is returned, I will take this land and remake it in my own image, where my subjects and slaves can live in peace, and I can rule as I did before, unopposed and unquestioned.”

“You’re wrong,” I said quietly, as his eyes widened, blazing and feverish. “The power of the Iron King was never yours, not since you lost it to Machina all those years ago. It can be earned, and it can be lost, but it can never be taken. Machina gave it to me. Even if you kill me, you won’t get back your power. You can’t reclaim the past, Ferrum. Let it go. You’ll never be the Iron King again.”

“Silence!” Ferrum screeched, hitting the throne arm again. “Lies! I have waited for this day too long to listen to your filthy half-truths! Guards, guards!”

Clanking footsteps boomed around us, and a platoon of Iron knights appeared, encircling the arena. Ash and Puck pressed close, and we stood back-to-back, weapons drawn, as the knights came to a stop at the edge, surrounding us in a ring of steel.

Ferrum rose from his throne, floating a few feet from the ground like a spindly wraith, his long hair floating around him. “You will not deny me what is rightfully mine,” the false king raged, pointing at me with a long metallic finger. “And your little bodyguards will not stop me from taking it, either. I have some friends of theirs who are dying to see them.”

I wasn’t surprised when the ranks parted and Rowan stepped out on one side, Tertius on the other. The Iron knight looked bored and cold, but Rowan’s grin was inhumanly eager as he drew his sword, spinning it casually as he advanced on Ash.

“Come on, little brother,” Rowan sneered, the flickering light washing over his burned, ravaged face. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time.”

“Meghan.” Ash eased back a step, torn between protecting me and going after Rowan. I softly touched his arm.

“It’s okay.” He gave me a desperate, helpless look, and I smiled encouragingly. “I’ll be all right. This is what we came here for. Keep Rowan off me, and I’ll take care of Ferrum.” I hope. “Puck, will you be all right?”

“No problem, princess.” Puck whirled his daggers, facing off against Ash’s doppelganger. The look on his face scared me a little. It was one of pure, savage zeal as Puck bared his teeth in a fearsome smile. “I think I’m gonna enjoy this.”

Ash held my gaze. “I can’t protect you this time,” he whispered. “And I know you’re ready for this but, Meghan…be careful,” he finished, and I nodded.

“You, too.” I stepped back, but he pulled me forward and kissed me, quick and desperate, before turning to face Rowan.

“Go on, then,” he said softly, his voice shaking a bit. “Go save us all.”

With my head up and my resolve firmly in place, I turned and walked toward the center of the room. This was it. Ash and Puck couldn’t help me now. I had to do this on my own.

Ferrum waited for me before his throne, a skeletal wraith-creature, his robes and hair billowing behind him. The screech and clash of weapons echoed behind me as two of the people I loved most in the world fought for their lives, but I didn’t turn back to look. My gaze was only for the false king as I stopped a few yards from the throne, my sword held loosely at my side.

Ferrum watched me for a moment, hanging in the air like a vulture, and he broke into a slow, eager smile. “This can be simple and painless, you know,” he whispered. “Kneel before me now, and you will not suffer. Your end will be as peaceful as a lullaby, singing you to sleep.”

I gripped my sword, swinging it into a ready position as Ash had taught me. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

Ferrum smiled. “Very well,” he said, and his arms rose away from his sides. I felt him drawing glamour from the fortress, from the poisoned land and even his subjects, sucking the dark power into himself. His fingers flexed, growing long and pointed, turning into gleaming blades. “I prefer it this way, myself.” And he flew at me.

He was insanely fast. I barely had time to see him coming, a blur of silver across the floor, before he was in front of me, swiping at my face. I knocked away the stabbing fingers and slashed at him in return, but he was already gone, zipping to the side. I felt his claws strike my armor, and then a blinding pain as they sliced through the scales like paper, cutting into my arm. I whirled and swiped at him, my blade passing through empty air as Ferrum darted away, clear across the room in a blink.

My arm burned, the silver dragon-scale spattered with red where the false king had cut me. Ferrum drifted closer, slower this time, his mouth twisted in a hungry smile. He knew he was faster than me. I closed out the pain and raised my sword again, and the false king laughed in triumph.

“Is that the best you can do, Meghan Chase? All the power of the Iron King at your fingertips, and you can do nothing. How disappointing.” A blink and he was close again, smiling. I threw myself back, but Ferrum didn’t press his advantage, shaking his head like a disappointed grandfather.

“You have no idea how to wield that power, do you, girl? It sits, smoldering inside you, an untapped flood. Or are you just saving it for later?” He was mocking me now, confident in his victory, and that pissed me off. I lunged at him with a snarl, slashing at his face, intending to wipe that ugly sneer from his mouth. He dodged, thrust out a hand, and I was hit with a blast of pure Iron glamour. My sword was torn from my hands. The force knocked me back, sent me tumbling to the edge of the arena, gasping and winded at the feet of the Iron knights. Over the ringing in my ears, I heard Ash’s howl of fury and the false king’s mocking laughter.

“Get up!” he snapped as I staggered to my knees. I tried, but the floor was spinning and my stomach felt like it had been pulled inside out. The false king barked another laugh. “Pathetic!” he crowed. “You are weak! Weak, to be carrying the power of the Iron King. I don’t know what Machina was thinking, to waste it on you! No matter. I will cut it out of your weak human body and use it as it was meant to be used, for the glory of myself and my kingdom.”

He raised his hands, claws smeared with my blood, and drifted toward me. Dark, poisonous Iron glamour pulsed all around us, ebbing from the walls and from every shadow of the fortress, feeding him, empowering him. I couldn’t beat Ferrum like this. I was going to have to fight fire with fire and hope I wouldn’t pass out from the effort.

I gazed across the arena to my sword, lying in the middle of the floor, flickering under the lights. I remembered how I had once twisted the shape of an iron ring, made iron bolts change direction in midair. I remembered how Ferrum made his own fingers change, becoming deadly and sharp, and concentrated on my weapon, seeing the Iron glamour in my mind. The sword glowed white-hot, stretched, and lengthened, turning from a sword to a spear. Nausea rose up as my Summer magic reacted violently to the Iron glamour, cramping my stomach and making the room spin, but I bit my lip and gave the magic one last, desperate pull.

Ferrum was right over me, his claws poised to end my life, when the spear flew from the floor, streaked across the room, and hit him from behind. I saw it erupt from his chest, striking the armor of one of the knights, and I scrambled away as Ferrum arched back with a scream, clutching the spear through his middle.

Staggering to the center of the arena, I collapsed as the nausea overtook me, gasping and trying not to retch. It was over. We had won, somehow. Now all we had to do was get past Rowan and Tertius, and make it back to our side. Hopefully, the Iron knights would let us go now that Ferrum was dead—

High-pitched, frantic laughter stopped me in my tracks.

When I raised my head, my blood ran cold. Ferrum was still standing, the spear through his chest, glamour snapping and flaring around him like a thunderstorm. “You think you can defeat me with iron, Meghan Chase?” he howled. “I am iron! I was the first Iron fey born into this world—it runs in my veins, my blood, my very essence! Your pathetic use of Iron glamour only makes me stronger!”

Reaching down, he pulled the spear from his chest in one smooth, contemptuous motion. I struggled upright as the false king rose into the air, hair and clothes whipping around him in the gale. “Now,” Ferrum droned, lifting the spear above his head, “it is time to end this.”

Lightning arced from the ceiling to the tip of the spear, lancing down and crackling around the false king. I felt my hair stand up, rising away from my neck, as Ferrum lifted his other hand and pointed at me.

There was a blinding flash. Something slammed into my chest, and the noise of the world cut out, as abruptly as if someone had switched off a television.

Everything went white.

“YOU CANNOT BEAT HIM.”

Blinking, I squinted against the glare, shielding my eyes as I gazed around. All around me, everything was white. No ground, no shadows, nothing but a blank white void as empty as space.

But I knew he was here, with me.

“Where are you, Machina?” I asked, my voice echoing into the emptiness.

“I have always been here, Meghan Chase,” was Machina’s reply, coming from everywhere and nowhere. “I was given to you, freely and without constraint. It is you who has rejected me every time.”

That didn’t make any sense, and I shook my head to clear it, trying to remember where I was. “Where is everyone? Where is…Ferrum! I was fighting Ferrum. I have to get back. Where is he?”

“You cannot beat him,” Machina said again. “Not the way you are fighting. He is the essence of Iron’s corruption, feeding off the land like a bloated tick. His power is too great, and you cannot defeat him with Iron glamour alone.”

“I’m going to have to try,” I said angrily. “I don’t have a magic Witchwood arrow to kill him like I did you. I just have myself.”

“The Witchwood arrow was only a conduit for your own Summer glamour. It was powerful, yes, but it only worked because you are Oberon’s daughter, and his living, healing Summer blood flows through you. In essence, you injected the Iron King with your own Summer magic, and my body could not take it. It is the same with Ferrum.”

“Well, I can’t do that anymore. Every time I use Summer magic, the Iron gets in the way. I can’t use one without the other tainting it. I can’t win like that. I can’t—” Close to despair, I sank to my knees, burying my face in one hand. “I have to win,” I whispered. “I have to. Everyone is depending on me. There must be a way to use my Summer magic. Dammit, my father is the Summer King, there has to be a way to separate—”

And then it hit me.

I remembered my father. Not the Seelie King—my human father, Paul. I could see us sitting at the old piano, while he tried to explain how music worked. I could see the Iron glamour in the notes, the strict lines and rigid rules that made up the score, but the music itself was a vortex of song and pure, swirling emotion. They weren’t separate entities, creative magic and Iron glamour. They were one; cold logic and wild emotion, merged together to create something truly beautiful.

“Of course,” I whispered, reeling from the understanding. “I was using them separately, of course they reacted to each other. That’s what you were trying to tell me, wasn’t it? This power—me, you, Summer and Iron glamour—I can’t use one or the other. They’re useless separated. I have to…make them one.”

It was so simple, now that I thought about it. Paul had shown me they could combine; it was nothing new. This was why Machina gave his power to me—I was the only one who could merge them, a half-breed who could wield both Summer and Iron.

I felt a presence behind me, but didn’t turn. There would be nothing there if I did. “Are you ready?” Machina whispered. No, not Machina, the manifestation of the Iron glamour, my Iron glamour. The magic I had been rejecting, running away from, all this time. Using it, but never really accepting it. That ended today. It was time.

“I’m ready,” I murmured, and felt hands on my shoulders, long-fingered and powerful. Steel cables began coiling around me, around us, tightening as they slithered over my skin. About the time they stabbed into me, wiggling under my skin and crawling up toward my heart, I closed my eyes. Machina’s presence was fading away, growing fainter and fainter, though right before he vanished altogether, he bent close and whispered in my ear:

“You’ve always had the power to defeat the false king. He is a corrupter, a life-taker, poisoning everything he touches. He will try to drain your magic by force. You can defeat him, but you must be brave. Together, we can restore this land.”

The cables finally reached my heart, and a jolt like an electrical current slammed into my body, as all that was left of the Iron King faded completely and was gone.

I GASPED AND OPENED MY EYES.

I was in Ferrum’s chamber, lying on my back, watching the lightning threads dance over the ceiling. Only a few seconds must have passed since Ferrum hit me, as the false king was still standing in the middle of the arena with his arm outstretched. Beyond him, I could just make out Ash and Puck, still locked in battle with their opponents. Ash was shouting something, but his voice blurred in my ears, coming from far away. I felt dizzy, numb, and my skin tingled, as if all my limbs were asleep, but I was alive.

Something light slithered over my neck, tickling my skin. I reached up and felt cold metal; the pocket watch the Clockmaker had given me, so long ago. Lifting it up, I saw immediately that there was no saving it; the electricity had cracked the glass and melted the edges of the gold casing. The delicate hands were frozen in place. From the looks of the damage, it seemed the timepiece had taken the full brunt of the lightning bolt, one hundred and sixty-one hours from the time the Clockmaker had given it to me.

Thank you, I told him silently, and unlooped the chain from my neck, letting the watch clatter to the ground.

Ferrum’s eyes widened as I struggled to my knees, then my feet, fighting to stay upright as the floor lurched and spun. “Still alive?” he hissed as I shook off the last of the dizziness and faced him, clenching my fists. Everything was clearer now. I could feel the Iron glamour of the fortress pulsing all around me, and the black hole that was the false king, sucking it all away. I probed further and sensed the glamour of the Nevernever holding out against the Iron Realm, growing weaker as the Iron Kingdom pressed forward. I could feel the heartbeat of both lands, and the creatures dying on either side.

The power of the Iron King can be given, or can be lost, but it cannot be taken.

I suddenly realized what I had to do.

I trembled, wishing there had been more time—that Ash and I could’ve had more time. If I’d known, I might’ve done things differently. But beyond that moment of regret, I felt calm, certain, filled with a resolve that pushed back all fear or doubt. I was ready. There was no other way.

I looked at Ferrum and smiled.

The false king hissed and sent another bolt of lightning at me. I raised my hand, Summer and Iron glamour swirling around me, and knocked it aside, sending it into the wall over Ferrum’s head. The energy exploded in a shower of sparks, and Ferrum screeched in rage. For a moment, I held my breath, waiting for the pain and nausea to hit.

Nothing. No pain, no sickness. Summer and Iron glamour had merged perfectly, one no longer tainting the other. I reached out and called my spear to me, ripping it from Ferrum’s grasp, grabbing it as it smacked into my palm. Ferrum’s eyes bugged, and glamour flared around him like a dark flame. I flourished the spear and sank into a ready stance.

“Come on then, old man,” I called, ignoring my pounding heart, the way my hands were shaking. “You throw like a girl. You want my power? Come get it!”

Ferrum rose into the air like a vengeful phoenix, hair and robes snapping behind him. “Insolent child!” he screamed, “I shall not toy with you a moment longer! I will take my power back right now!”

He flew at me, covering the arena floor in a blink, though I saw everything clearly. I watched Ferrum close on me, his face twisted into a mask of rage, lunging forward. I saw those deadly talons, stabbing at my chest. I knew I could block it, step aside…

I’m sorry, Ash.

I closed my eyes instead.

Ferrum hit me square in the gut with the full power of his hate behind it, driving his claws deep into my chest. The force bent me over, punching the breath from my lungs, a moment before fire blossomed through my stomach. The pain was excruciating. I would’ve gasped, but there was no air left in me. Somewhere far away, I heard Ash scream in rage and fury, Puck’s cry of dismay, but then Ferrum stepped forward, pushing his claws in even farther, and everything melted into a red haze of agony.

Bent over the false king’s arm, my body shook and convulsed, and I concentrated on not passing out, not giving in to the blackness that crawled at the edge of my vision. It was tempting, so tempting, to give in, to let go of the pain and sink into oblivion. My blood dripped to the floor between us, a growing crimson pool; I could feel my life leaking away, as well.

“Yes,” Ferrum whispered in my ear, his breath smelling of rust and rot, “suffer. Suffer for stealing my power from me. For thinking you were worthy to carry it. Now, you will die, and I will become the Iron King once more. The power of the Iron King is mine once again!”

I raised a trembling, blood-soaked hand and grabbed the collar of his robes, raising my head to meet the false king’s triumphant gaze. My life was fading fast; I had to be quick. “You want it?” I whispered, forcing the words out, when all I wanted to do was scream or cry. “Take it. It’s yours.” And I sent my power, the merged glamour of Summer and Iron, into the false king.

Ferrum threw back his head and laughed, swelling with power, his voice ringing through the chamber. Glamour flared around him like a dark fire, and he seemed to swell, to grow as the massive power of the Iron King flowed into him.

Suddenly, it sputtered, the cold black corruption flickering with tongues of green and gold, heat and warmth. Ferrum jerked, eyes going wide with confusion and fear, staring at me in horror.

“What…what are you doing to me? What have you done?” He tried pulling back, but I clamped my fingers around his wrist, holding us together.

“You wanted the Iron King’s power,” I told Ferrum, whose eyes were bulging and crazy now, glamour swirling around him like a colorful vortex, “you can have it. Iron and Summer both. Afraid you can’t separate them, now.” Glamour continued to pour into Ferrum, as I clung to him with my fading strength. “You might’ve killed me, but I swear, I won’t let you touch the Nevernever. Or my family. Or my friends. The Iron King’s reign ends right now.”

Branches erupted from the false king’s chest, twisted and bent, rushing up toward the ceiling, and Ferrum screamed. Ripping his claws from my stomach, he staggered back, clutching at the limbs, trying to tear them out. I fell to my knees, stayed upright for a split second, then collapsed, my head striking the ground with a thump.

Reality blurred, and time seemed to slow. Ferrum writhed and thrashed, his screams filling the chamber as his arms split and turned into branches, his fingers becoming gnarled twigs. I saw Ash, his face frighteningly out of control, slam his brother’s sword away, step forward and plunge his blade through Rowan’s armor, into his chest. A flash of vicious blue, and Rowan arched back, going stiff as if frozen from inside. Ash yanked his sword up and out, and Rowan shattered, falling to the floor in a million glistening pieces.

A howl from the other side of the room showed two Pucks holding Tertius between them, while a third Puck raised his dagger and plunged it into the knight’s chest.

“Damn you.” Ferrum’s voice was a croak, and my attention flickered back to the false king. He was almost gone now, a tiny, gnarled old tree, bent and withered. Only his face showed through the trunk, hateful eyes boring into me. “I thought I’d seen evil in Machina,” he wheezed, “but you are far, far worse. My power, all my power, gone. Wasted.” His voice broke, and he made a noise like a sob before turning a last sneer on me. “At least I can take comfort in the fact that neither of us will have it in the end. You will die soon. Not even the power of the Iron King can save you n—” His voice abruptly cut out, or maybe I lost consciousness for a moment, because the next time I opened my eyes, Ferrum was gone. An ugly, skeletal tree was all that remained of the false king.

The pain was still there, but it was a dull, distant thing now, insignificant. Somewhere far away, someone called my name. At least, I thought it was my name. I blinked, trying to focus, but my thoughts were fuzzy and slipped away like smoke, and I was too tired to call them back.

Closing my eyes, I let myself drift, wanting nothing but the chance to rest. Surely I had earned it by now. Defeating a false king and saving all of Faery—there were certainly worse ways to die. But, even as I hovered on the edge of the void, I could still feel the labored heartbeat of the land, the poisoned trail Ferrum had carved on his journey, and the corruption seeping into the Nevernever. Just because Ferrum was gone didn’t mean the Iron Realm would disappear. The last of the Iron King’s power still flickered inside me, weakly, a candle held up to the wind. It was still my responsibility, this power. What would happen to it when I died? Who would I give it to? Who could I give it to, this new glamour of Summer and Iron, without killing them?

“Meghan!” The voice called to me again, and I recognized it now. It was his voice, the voice of my knight, frantic and tormented, pulling me back from the void. “Meghan, no!” it pleaded, echoing in the blackness. “Don’t do this. Come on, wake up. Please.” The last word was a desperate, whispered sob, and I opened my eyes.

Ash peered down at me, silver eyes suspiciously bright, his face pale and wan. Cradled in his arms, I blinked as the sounds of the world came back, the crackle of energy above, the shuffle of metal boots from the Iron knights still surrounding us. I spared a quick glance over, and saw that all the knights had laid down their arms and were now watching us with identical grave expressions, waiting.

I looked back to Ash, seeing Puck standing over his shoulder as well, white and pale. “Ash,” I whispered, my voice sounding weak and breathy in my ears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think…now you’ll fade away because of me, because I asked you to take that vow.”

He pressed his face to my hair, closing his eyes. “If you are gone,” he whispered back, his voice shaking, “then I will welcome nonexistence. There will be nothing left for me to live for.” He pulled back, his silver eyes boring into me. “There’s still time,” he murmured, standing easily with me in his arms. “We have to get you to a healer.”

Puck was suddenly there, intense and angry, his hair a stark contrast to his pale face. “Dammit, Meghan,” he snapped. “What the hell were you thinking? We have to get you out of here, now!” He eyed the ring of knights and his eyes narrowed. “You think the bucket brigade will let us go, or should I carve a path through them?”

“No,” I whispered, clutching Ash’s shirt. They both looked at me in surprise. “I can’t go to a healer. Take me…” I winced and fought a gasp as a bolt of pain clawed my stomach, and Ash’s grip tightened. “Take me to the tree,” I forced out. “The ruins. I have to go back…to where it all began.”

He stared at me, expressionless, but a tremor went through him. “No,” he whispered, but it was more of a plea.

“Princess, there’s no time!” Puck stalked forward, desperate. “Don’t be stupid! If we don’t get you to a healer now, you’ll die!”

I ignored Puck, holding Ash’s gaze, steeling myself for what I had to do. “Ash,” I whispered, tears flooding my eyes. “Please. I don’t have…much time left. This is my last request. I have to…get to that tree. Please.”

He closed his eyes, and a single tear crawled down his cheek. I knew I was asking him to do the impossible, and it was tearing me apart that Ash was suffering. But at least I would make it right in the end. I’d promise him that much.

“Don’t listen to her, prince.” Puck sounded almost frantic then, grabbing Ash by the shoulder. “She’s delirious. Get to a healer, dammit. Don’t tell me you’re going to listen to this insanity.”

“Puck,” I whispered, but suddenly noticed the empty silver chain, dangling from Ash’s chest. The amulet was gone. Where the crystal had once been, only a blackened shard remained. It must’ve finally shattered during the fight with Rowan. My stomach twisted. “Oh, God, Ash,” I breathed. “The amulet. You won’t be protected in the Iron Kingdom anymore. Have someone else take me back.”

He raised his head, his eyes bleak but determined, a look I’d seen before, when he had nothing left to lose.

“I’ll take you.”

“No, you won’t!” Puck stepped in front of us, and suddenly his dagger was pressed against Ash’s throat. Ash didn’t move, and Puck leaned in, his face savage. “You’ll take her to a healer, prince, or so help me I will cut out that piece of ice you call a heart and take her myself.”

“Puck,” I whispered again, “please.” He didn’t look at me, but tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, and the hand holding the dagger trembled. “I have t-to do this,” I went on, as Ash and Puck continued their staredown, neither giving an inch. “This…is the only way to save everything. Please.”

He drew in a shaky breath. “How can you ask me to let you die?” he choked, still keeping the blade at the prince’s throat. A thread of blood formed under the knife, and ran down to Ash’s collar. “I’d do anything for you, Meghan. Just…not that. Not that.”

Gently, I reached up and closed my fingers around the knife hilt, easing it down and away from Ash’s neck. Puck resisted for a moment, then stepped back with a sob. The dagger fell from his grip and clanged to the floor.

“Are you sure this is what you want, princess?” His voice was strangled, his eyes begging me to change my mind.

“No,” I whispered, as my own tears spilled over, and the arms around me tightened. Of course it wasn’t. I wanted to live. I wanted to see my family and finish school and travel to distant places I’d only read about. I wanted to laugh with Puck and love with Ash, and do all those things that normal people took for granted. But I couldn’t. I was given this power, this responsibility. And I had to finish what I’d started, once and for all. “No, Puck, it isn’t. But, this is how it has to be.”

Puck took my hand, gripping it as if he could keep me here just by holding on. I looked into his green eyes, shining with emotion, and saw all his years as Fey, all his triumphs and failures, loves and losses. I saw him as Puck, the devilish, legendary troublemaker, and as Robin Goodfellow, a being as ancient as time, with his own scars and wounds gathered in his immortal life. Puck squeezed my hand, tears running unabashedly down his face, and shook his head.

“Wow,” he muttered, his voice choked with tears. “Here we are, the last night and all, and I can’t think of anything to say.”

I pressed my palm to his cheek, feeling the moisture beneath my fingers, and smiled at him. “How about ‘goodbye’?”

“Nah.” Puck shook his head. “I make a point of never saying goodbye, princess. Makes it sound like you’re never coming back.”

“Puck—”

He bent and kissed me softly on the lips. Ash stiffened, arms tightening around me, but Puck slid out of reach before either of us could react. “Take care of her, ice-boy,” he said, smiling as he backed up several paces. “I guess I won’t be seeing you, either, will I? It was…fun, while it lasted.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to kill each other,” Ash said quietly.

Puck chuckled and bent to retrieve his fallen dagger. “My one and only regret. Too bad, that would have been an epic fight.” Straightening, he gave us that old, stupid grin, raising a hand in farewell. “See you around, lovebirds.”

Glamour rippled through the air, and Puck disintegrated into a flock of screaming ravens, flapping wildly as they scattered to all corners of the room. The knights ducked as the birds swooped over their heads, cawing in their harsh, mocking voices. Then the birds vanished into the darkness, the sound of wings disappeared, and Puck was gone.

THE KNIGHTS LET US THROUGH without a fight, bowing their heads as we passed. Some of them even raised their swords, as if in salute, but I didn’t really notice much. Cradled gently in Ash’s arms, my body and mind numb to everything, I concentrated on not falling asleep, knowing if I did, I might never open my eyes. Soon I could rest, give in to the exhaustion claiming my body, lie back and forget it all, but I had one last thing to do. And then I could finally let it all go.

Soft flakes touched my cheek, and I looked up.

We were outside the fortress now, standing at the top of a flight of stairs, gazing down at the field. The sounds of battle had ceased, and silence hung over the field as every eye, be it Summer, Winter, or Iron, turned in my direction. Everyone was frozen, staring at me in shock, unsure of what to do.

Ash never stopped, walking deliberately forward, his face unreadable, and the ranks of Summer, Winter, and Iron fey parted for him without a word. Faces passed by me, silent in the falling ash. Diode, his whirling eyes wide with alarm. Spikerail and his herd, lowering their heads as we walked by. Gremlins trailed us, hushed and grim, weaving their way through the crowd.

Mab and Oberon came into view, their eyes at once blank and sympathetic. Ash didn’t stop, even for Mab. He marched by the faery rulers without even a glance, continuing through the gray drifts, until we reached the edge of the field and the huge frost dragon waiting for us. The dragon shifted, settling back to stare at the Winter prince with ice-blue eyes.

“Take us into the Iron Realm.” Ash’s voice was soft, but several degrees below freezing, leaving no room for argument. “Now.”

The dragon blinked. Hissing softly, it turned and crouched low, stretching its long neck for Ash to get on. Without so much as a jolt, Ash stepped onto a scaly forearm and leaped up between the dragon’s shoulders, settling me in his lap. As the dragon rose up, spreading its wings to launch, Razor let out a buzzing cry, and the gremlins exploded into shrill, high-pitched wailing, leaping up and down and pulling at their ears. Though startled, no one moved to stop them, and their keening voices followed us into the air, until the wind swallowed them up.

I DIDN’T REMEMBER FLYING. I didn’t remember landing. Just a soft thump as Ash slid off the dragon’s back onto solid ground again. Raising my head from his chest, I gazed around. The landscape was blurred and fuzzy, like a fading, out-of-focus camera, until I realized it was me and not the surroundings. Everything was gray and dark, but I could still make out the tree, the great iron oak, rising from the tower ruins to brush the sky.

Behind us, the dragon made a low rumble that sounded like a question. “Yes, go,” Ash murmured without turning around, and there was a blast of wind that signaled the dragon had fled, back to the Nevernever where it wouldn’t be poisoned. I noted, in my numb state of mind, that Ash didn’t tell it to wait for him.

Because he wasn’t planning to leave, either.

Ash’s step was firm as he carried me through the tower, drifting through the empty ruins, slipping through the shadows, until we reached the base of the tree. Only when we stepped into the central chamber and the branches loomed above us did he start to tremble. But his voice was steady, and his grip didn’t loosen as he approached the trunk and stopped, lowering his head to mine.

“We’re here,” he murmured. I closed my eyes and reached out with my remaining glamour, feeling the pulsing heart of the tree and the roots, extending deep into the earth.

“Lay me down…at the base,” I whispered.

He hesitated, but then stepped beneath the tree and knelt, depositing me gently on the ground between two giant roots. And he stayed there, kneeling beside me, holding my hand in his. Something splashed the back of my hand, cold as spring water, crystallizing to my skin. A faery’s tears.

I gazed up at him and tried for a smile, tried to be brave, to show him that none of this was his fault. That this was how it had to be. His eyes glimmered in the darkness, bright and anguished. I squeezed his hand.

“It was…quite a ride, wasn’t it?” I whispered, as my own tears ran down my cheek, staining the hard ground. “I’m sorry, Ash. I wish…we had more time. I wish…I could’ve gone with you…but things didn’t quite work out, did they?”

Ash brought my hand to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. “I love you, Meghan Chase,” he murmured against my skin. “For the rest of my life, however long we have left. I’ll consider it an honor to die beside you.”

I took a deep breath, chasing back the darkness on the edge of my vision. Now came the hardest part, the part I’d been dreading. I didn’t want to die, and even more, I didn’t want to die alone. The thought made my stomach clench, and my breath come in short, panicked gasps. But Ash would not fade away. I would not let him die because of his vow. This was the last unselfish thing I could do for him. He had been with me every step of the way; now it was my turn to set him free.

“Ash.” I reached up and touched his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. “I love you. Never forget that. And I…I wanted to live the rest of my life with you. But…” And I paused, trying to catch my breath. It was getting hard even to speak, and Ash’s outline was fading at the edges. I blinked hard to keep him in focus.

“But I…I can’t let you die because of me,” I continued, seeing understanding dawn in his eyes, followed by alarm. “I won’t allow it.”

“Meghan, no.”

“It’s all right if you hate me,” I continued, speaking faster so he couldn’t change my mind. “In fact, that might be for the best. Hate me, so you can find someone…someone else to love. But I want you to live, Ash. You have so much to live for.”

“Please.” Ash gripped my hand, “Don’t do this.”

“I release you,” I whispered. “From your vow of knighthood, and the promises you made. Your service to me is done, Ash. You’re free.”

Ash bowed his head, shoulders heaving. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, my stomach churning painfully. It was done. I hated myself for it, but it was the right thing to do. I’d asked so much of him already. Even if he was prepared to die, I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Now,” I said, releasing his hand. “Get out of here, Ash. Before it’s too late.”

“No.”

“Ash, you can’t stay. The amulet is gone. If you’re here much longer, you’ll die.”

Ash said nothing. But I knew that stubborn set of his shoulders, the flare of resolve around him, and I knew he would stay with me regardless. And so, I did the only thing I could think of. He would curse the day he met the human girl in the wyldwood, vow to never, ever, fall in love again. But he would live.

“Ashallyn’darkmyr Tallyn,” I said, and he closed his eyes, “by the power of your True Name, leave the Iron Realm right now.” I turned my head so I wouldn’t see him, forcing out the last words. “And don’t come back.”

I’m so sorry, Ash. But please, live for me. If anyone deserves to come out of this alive, it’s you.

A soft noise, almost a sob. Ash rose, hesitated, as if fighting the compulsion to obey. “I will always be your knight, Meghan Chase,” he whispered in a strained voice, as if every moment he remained was painful to him. “And I swear, if there is a way for us to be together, I will find it. No matter how long it takes. If I have to chase your soul to the ends of eternity, I won’t stop until I find you, I promise.”

And then he was gone.

Alone at the base of the giant oak, I lay back, fighting the urge to cry, to scream out my fear and desolation. There was no time for that anymore. The world was getting dark, and I had one last thing I had to do.

Closing my eyes, I reached out with my glamour, feeling both Summer and Iron rise up in response. Cautiously, I probed the roots of the giant oak, following them deep into the cracked, dry earth, sensing the devastation of the land around it. The Iron glamour that was killing one species but sustaining another.

I thought of my family. Of Mom and Luke and Ethan, still waiting for me at home. I thought of my human dad, Paul, and my real father, the Summer King. Of everyone I had met along the way: Glitch, the rebels, Razor. Ironhorse. They were of the Iron Kingdom, but they were still fey. They deserved a chance to live, just like everyone else.

I thought of Grimalkin, and Puck. My wise teacher and my brave, loyal best friend. They would live, I would make certain of that. They would laugh and inspire ballads and collect favors until the end of time. This was for them. And for my knight, who had given everything for me. Who would’ve been there to the very end, had I let him.

Ash, Puck, everyone. I love you all. Remember me. And in one final, determined push, I gathered the power of the Iron King into a massive, swirling ball and sent it deep into the roots of the giant oak.

A shudder went through the tree, continuing into the land around it, like ripples on a glassy pond. It radiated outward, spreading to the dead trees and vegetation, and the once-withered plants stirred as the new glamour touched their roots. I sensed the land waking up, drinking in the new magic, healing the poison that the Iron glamour had seeped into the land. Trees straightened, unfurling new leaves from steel branches. The hard obsidian plain shuddered as green sprouts pushed their way to the surface. The mottled yellow clouds began to break apart, showing blue sky and sun peeking through the cracks.

A cool breeze blew in from somewhere, cooling my face and causing a rain of leaves to flutter around me. The air smelled of earth and new grass. Lulled into a deep peace, listening to the sounds of growing things all around me, I closed my eyes and finally surrendered to the darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE THE IRON QUEEN

Machina waited for me on the other side.

“Hello, Meghan Chase,” he greeted softly, smiling in the brightness that surrounded us. No longer the black void of dreams, or the harsh whiteness of my mind, I didn’t really know where I was. Coiling mist surrounded me, and I wondered if this was just one more test before I reached the afterlife, or whatever lay beyond the fog.

“Machina.” I nodded. He was barely discernible in the mist, but every so often the fog would clear and I saw him, though sometimes he appeared as a massive tree. “What are you doing here?” I sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re guarding the pearly gates. You never struck me as the angelic type.”

The Iron King shook his head. His cables, folded behind him, looked almost like glimmering wings, but Machina could not, in any way, be mistaken for something else. I blinked, and for a moment it seemed I stood under the limbs of the great oak again. But the land around it was changed, green and silver, twined together seamlessly. I turned my head and Machina stood before me again, gazing down with what could only be pride.

“I wanted to congratulate you,” he murmured, like the whisper of wind through the leaves. “You’ve come farther than anyone could have expected. Defeating the false king by sacrificing yourself was phenomenal. But then, you gave your power to the one thing that could save you both—the land itself.”

Movement swirled around me, flashes of color, showing a land both familiar and strange. Mountains of junk dominated the landscape, but moss and vines grew around them now, twisted and blooming with flowers. A huge city of stone and steel had both street lamps and flowering trees lining the streets, and a fountain in the center square spouted clear water. A railroad cut through a grassy plain, where a huge silver oak loomed over crumbling ruins, shiny and metallic and alive.

“Summer and Iron,” Machina continued softly, “merged together, becoming one. You’ve done the impossible, Meghan Chase. The corruption of the Nevernever has been cleansed. The Iron fey now have a place to live without fearing the wrath of the other courts.” He sighed and shook his head. “If Mab and Oberon can leave us in peace, that is.”

“What about the regular fey?” I asked, as the images faded and it was just me and the Iron King once more. “Can’t they live here, as well?”

“No.” Machina faced me solemnly. “Though you have cleansed the poison and stopped the spread of Iron glamour, our world is still just as deadly to the oldbloods. Iron fey are still everything the regular fey fear and dread; we cannot survive in the same place. The most we can hope for is peaceful coexistence in our separate realms. And even that might be too much for the other rulers of the fey courts. Summer and Winter are mired in their traditions. They need someone to show them another way.”

I fell silent, considering this. What Machina said made sense, but he didn’t say how he would accomplish this. Who would step up and be the champion of the Iron fey, the new Iron King?

Of course. I sighed, shaking my head. “You’d think, after saving the entire realm of Faery, I could get some sort of vacation,” I muttered, daunted by the huge task before me. “Why does it have to be me? Can’t someone else do it?”

“When you gave away your power, you essentially healed the land,” Machina said, regarding me with a small smile. “And, because you are connected, the land healed you in return. You, Meghan Chase, are the living, beating heart of the Iron Realm. Its glamour sustains you; your existence gives it life. You cannot survive without each other.” He started to fade, the brightness around us growing dimmer, becoming a black void. “So,” murmured the last Iron King, his voice barely a whisper in the dark, “the only question is, what are you going to do now?”

SOMETHING TOUCHED MY FACE, and I opened my eyes.

A small, anxious face stared into mine, eyes glowing green, huge ears fanning away from its head. Razor squawked as I blinked at him, then grinned in delight.

“Master!”

I groaned and waved him off. My body felt weak, pounded on and beaten into submission, but thankfully, there wasn’t any lingering pain. Above me, the metal branches of the great oak waved gently in the wind, sunlight slanting through the leaves and dappling the ground. My fingers brushed cool grass as I carefully eased myself into a sitting position, gazing around in astonishment.

I was surrounded by Iron fey. Gremlins and Iron knights, hacker elves and clockwork hounds, wiremen, dwarves, spider-hags, and more. Glitch stood silently with his arm in a sling, next to Spikerail and two of his iron horses, watching me with solemn eyes.

I could feel them, all of them. I could feel every heartbeat, sense the Iron glamour coursing through them, pulsing in time with the land, flowing through me. I knew the edges of my realm, brushing against the Nevernever, not spreading, not corrupting, content to sit within its new boundaries. I felt every tree and bush and blade of grass, spread before me like a seamless patchwork quilt. And, if I closed my eyes and really concentrated, I could hear my own heartbeat, and the pulse of the land, echoing it.

What will you do now, Meghan Chase?

I understood. This was my fate, my destiny. I knew what had to be done. Pulling myself upright, I took a step forward, away from the trunk, standing on my own. As one, every Iron fey, rank upon rank of them, bowed their heads and sank to their knees. Even Glitch, bending down awkwardly, holding on to a kneeling Spikerail for support. Even Razor and the gremlins, burying their faces in the grass. The Iron knights clanked in unison as they drew their swords and knelt, the sword points jammed into the earth.

In the silence, I gazed out over the mass of kneeling fey and raised my voice. I don’t know why I said it, but deep down, I knew it was right. My words echoed over the crowd, sealing my fate. It would be a hard road, and I had a lot of work ahead of me, but in the end, this was the only possible outcome.

“My name is Meghan Chase, and I am the Iron Queen.”