The Iron Knight (31 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understan—”

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

“M
ERCY
.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“E
NOUGH
!”

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

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

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

I
T WENT ON FOREVER
.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ash?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Monster.

Demon.

Murderer.

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

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

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

As it should be.

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

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

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

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

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