The Iron Knight (5 page)

“Mercy is for the weak,” I told the Thornguards, seeing them for what they really were: abominations to be cut down, destroyed. “Let me show you how much of an Unseelie I still am.”

The Thornguards attacked with howling battle cries, coming from all directions. I parried one slash and swiped at another, leaping back to avoid a third. Behind me, Puck whooped in unrestrained glee, the clash of his daggers ringing in my ears as he danced around his opponents. They followed, savage and unrelenting. Rowan’s elite guards were dangerous and well trained, but I had been part of the Winter Court for a very long time, observing their strengths and weaknesses, and knew their fatal flaws.

The Thornguards were formidable as a unit, using group tactics to threaten and harry, much like a pack of wolves. But that was their greatest failing as well. Single them out, and they fell apart. Surrounded by a trio of Thornguards, I leaped back and flung a hail of stinging ice shards into their midst, catching two guards in the deadly arc. They flinched for a brief second, and the third leaped forward, alone, meeting my sword as it cut across his neck. The warrior frayed apart, black armor splitting open as dark brambles erupted from the spot where he died. As with all fey, death returned him to the Nevernever, and he simply ceased to exist.

“Duck, ice-boy!” Puck yelped behind me, and I did, feeling a Thornguard blade hiss overhead. I turned and stabbed the warrior through the chest as Puck hurled a dagger into another rushing me from behind. More brambles spread across the stones.

Now there were only three Thornguards left. Puck and I still stood back-to-back, guarding each other’s flanks, moving in perfect unison. “You know,” Puck said, panting slightly, “this reminds me of the time we were underground and stumbled into that Duergar city. Remember that, ice-boy?”

I parried a blow to my ribs and returned with a swipe to my opponent’s head, forcing him back a step. “Stop talking and keep fighting, Goodfellow.”

“Yeah, I think you said that to me then, too.”

I blocked a stab, lunged forward and ripped my blade across the guard’s throat, just as Puck danced within reach of his opponent and jabbed his knife between his ribs. Both warriors split apart, their weapons clanging against the rocks as they died. As they fell, the last Thornguard, the leader who’d taunted me before the battle, turned to flee.

I raised my arm, glamour swirling around me, and flung a trio of ice daggers at the warrior’s retreating back. They struck with muffled
thunks,
and the Thornguard gasped, pitching forward. Staggering to his knees, he looked up as I stepped around to face him, his glassy blue eyes filled with pain and hate.

“Guess I was wrong,” he panted, his ruined mouth twisted in a last defiant sneer. “You
are
still Unseelie, through and through.” He laughed, but it came out as a choked cough. “Well, what are you waiting for, your highness? Get on with it.”

“You know I won’t spare you.” I let the emptiness of the Winter Court spread through me, freezing any emotion, stifling
any thoughts of kindness or mercy. “You tried to kill Meghan, and if I let you go, you will continue to bring harm to her realm. I can’t allow that. Unless you swear to me, on this spot, that you will abandon your quest to harm the Iron Queen, her subjects and her kingdom. Give me that vow, and I’ll let you live.”

The Thornguard gazed at me a moment, then choked another laugh. “And where would I go?” He sneered, as Puck walked up behind him, watching solemnly. “Who would take me back, looking like this? Mab? Oberon? Your little half-breed queen?” He coughed and spat on the stones between us, the spittle a dark red. “No, your highness. If you let me go, I will find my way back to the Iron Queen, and I will put a sword in her heart and laugh as they cut me down for it. And if I somehow survive, I will destroy every Iron faery I come across, tear them limb from limb, until the land is stained with their tainted blood, and I won’t stop until every one of them lies de—”

He got no further, as my blade slashed across his neck and severed his head from his body.

Puck sighed as brambles erupted from the dead Thornguard, crooked fingers clawing at the sky. “Yeah, that went about as well as I expected.” He wiped his daggers on his pants and looked back at the tower, at the new brambles growing around the base. “You think any more are hanging around?”

“No.” I sheathed my sword and turned from my former Unseelie brethren. “They knew they were dying. They had no reason to hide.”

“Can’t reason with madmen, I guess.” Wrinkling his nose, Puck sheathed his weapons, shaking his head. “Nice to know they were just as delusional as before, just with a different flavor of crazy.”

Delusional? I blinked as the leader’s words came back to
me, mocking and ominous.
You’re lost to the Iron Realm, same as us. We’re not really that different, after all.

Were the Thornguards that delusional? They had only wanted what I did: a way to overcome the effects of iron. They’d bargained their lives away, endured torment no normal faery could withstand, hoping to conquer our eternal weakness. Hoping to live in the Iron Realm.

Wasn’t I doing the same now, wishing for the impossible?

“You’ve got your brooding face on again, ice-boy.” Puck squinted at me. “And I can see your brain going a mile a minute. What are you thinking of?”

I shook my head. “Nothing important.” Spinning on a heel, I turned and walked away, back toward the edge of the trees. Puck started to protest, but I hurried on, unwilling to think about it any longer. “We’ve wasted enough time here, and this isn’t getting us any closer to the seer. Let’s go.”

He jogged after me. I hoped he would be quiet, leave me in peace, but of course I had only a few moments of silence before he opened his mouth. “Hey, you never answered my question, prince,” he said, kicking a pebble over the stones, watching it bounce toward the forest. “What were we looking for in that underground city, anyway? A necklace? A mirror?”

“A dagger,” I muttered.

“Aha! So you
do
remember, after all!”

I glared at him. He grinned cheekily. “Just checking, ice-boy. Wouldn’t want you to forget all the good times we had. Hey, whatever happened to that thing, anyway? I seem to recall it was a really nice piece of work.”

A numbness spread through my chest, and my voice went very, very soft. “I gave it to Ariella.”

“… oh,” Puck murmured.

And said nothing after that.

Grimalkin was waiting for us atop a broken limb at the edge of the tree line, washing his paw with exaggerated nonchalance. “That took longer than I expected.” He yawned as we came up. “I was wondering if I should take a nap, waiting for you.” Giving his paw a final lick, he looked down at us, narrowing his golden eyes. “Anyway, if you two are quite finished, we can move on.”

“Did you know about the Thornguards?” I asked. “And their attack on the Iron Kingdom?”

Grimalkin snorted. Flicking his tail, the cat rose and sauntered along the splintered branch with no explanation. Hopping lightly to an overhead limb, he vanished into the leaves without looking back, leaving Puck and me hurrying to catch up.

The wyldwood stretched on, dark, tangled and endless. I didn’t count the times the light rose and fell, because the farther we went into the untamed wilderness, the wilder and more unpredictable it became. Grimalkin took us through a glen where the trees slowly followed us until we looked back, freezing them in place, only to have them creep forward again when our backs were turned. We hiked up an enormous, moss-covered hill, only to discover that the “hill” was actually the body of a sleeping giant as it raised a massive hand to scratch the itch on its cheek. We crossed a rolling, windy plain where herds of wild horses stared at us with cold intelligence, their furtive conversations blown away in the wind. During this time, Puck and I didn’t talk, or if we did, it was just useless banter, threats, insults and the like. Fighting with Robin Goodfellow, side by side against the Thornguards, had brought up memories I did not wish to deal with now, ones that were frozen deep inside, memories I couldn’t thaw out for fear of the pain. I didn’t want to remember the hunts, the challenges, the times we got ourselves neck-deep in trouble and had to fight our way out. I didn’t want to remember the
laughter, the easy camaraderie, between myself and my once-closest friend. Because remembering Puck as something more than a rival only reminded me of my vow, the one spoken in a flash of despair and rage, the one that had turned us into bitter enemies for years to come.

And, of course, I couldn’t think of Puck that way without remembering … her.

A
RIELLA
. T
HE ONLY DAUGHTER
of the Ice Baron of Glassbarrow, Ariella first came to the Unseelie Court during winter equinox, when Mab was hosting that year’s Elysium. As tradition dictated, twice a mortal year, the courts of Summer and Winter would meet to discuss politics, sign new treaties, and basically agree to play nice for another season. Or at least to refrain from declaring all-out war on the other court. It bored me to tears, but as a Winter prince and the son of Queen Mab, my presence was required, and I had learned to dance the dance and be a good little court monkey.

It was not yet twilight, and as such the Summer Court had not yet arrived. As Mab disapproved of my locking myself in my room until Elysium began, I was in a dark corner of the courtyard, rereading a book from my collection of mortal authors and poets. If anyone asked, I was overseeing the arrival of the last of the guests, but mostly I was avoiding Rowan and the current flock of nobles who would surround me with coy, flattering, razor-sharp smiles. Their voices would be the softest purr, the sweetest song, as they offered me favors covered in honey and nectar but with a core of vilest poison. I was a prince, after all, the youngest and most favored of Mab, at least according to some. I suppose the common belief was that I was more naive, easier to trap, perhaps. I didn’t know the dance as well as Rowan or Sage, who were at court far more frequently. But I was a true son of Winter, and knew
the twisted steps of court better than most. And those who sought to entrap me in a web of honey and favors soon found themselves tangled in their own dark promises.

I knew the dance. I just didn’t revel in it.

Which was why I was leaning against an ice-covered wall with Musashi’s
The Five Rings,
only half-aware of the bustle of carriages pulling up to the gates and the Winter gentry stepping out into the snow. Most of them I knew, or had seen before. The Lady Snowfire, dressed in a gown of sparkling icicles that chimed musically as she walked. The new duke of Frostfell—having disposed of the old duke by getting him exiled to the mortal realm—glided through the snow trailed by his goblin slaves. The Baroness of the Icebound Heart gave me a chilly nod as she strode past, her two snow leopards hissing and snarling at the ends of their silver chains.

And then,
she
walked in.

I didn’t know her, and that in itself piqued my curiosity. None could argue her beauty: long silver hair, pale skin, a willowy body that was delicate and strong at the same time. But, all of our kind are, if not very attractive, at least striking in some way. Being surrounded by beauty tends to dull your appreciation of it, especially if the beauty only hides the cruelty beneath. It wasn’t her looks that caught my eye that day, but the way she gazed at the Winter palace, awe written plainly on her lovely features. It was an emotion that didn’t belong; most would see it as a weakness, something to be exploited. The nobles could sense emotion like a shark smelled blood; they would devour her before the day was out.

A part of me told me not to care, that it was everyone for themselves in the Winter Court, and that was how it always had been. That this girl, new and untried, would take the attention off me for once. Despite that voice, I found myself intrigued.

Snapping shut the book, I started toward her.

She was turning in slow circles when I walked up, and jumped when we came face-to-face. “Oh, pardon me!” Her voice was clear and light, like tiny bells. “I didn’t see you standing there.”

“Are you lost?” It wasn’t so much a question, rather I was testing her, probing her defenses. Admitting you were lost was a grave mistake in the Winter Court; you never wanted to be caught unaware by anyone. It annoyed me a bit that the first thing I fell back on was checking for weakness, poking at chinks in her armor. But in the Unseelie Court, you could never be too careful.

She blinked at the question and took a step back, seeming to see me for the first time. Clear, blue-green eyes rose to meet my gaze, and I made the mistake of looking right at her.

Her gaze captured mine, drawing me in, and I was suddenly drowning. Flecks of silver dotted her irises like tiny stars, as if I was staring at a whole universe in her eyes. Brilliant emotion gazed out at me, pure and clean and untainted by the darkness of the Unseelie Court.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, neither willing to look away.

Until I realized what I was doing and turned, pretending to watch another carriage pull up to the gates, furious with myself for dropping my guard. For a brief moment, I wondered if that had been her ploy all along—pretend to be naive and innocent, and lure unsuspecting princes right into her clutches. Unorthodox, but effective.

Fortunately, it seemed the girl was just as shaken as I was. “No, I’m not lost,” she said a little breathlessly. Another mistake, but I wasn’t keeping track anymore. “It’s just … I mean … I’ve never been here, is all.” She cleared her throat and straightened, seeming to regain her composure. “I am
Ariella Tularyn of Glassbarrow,” she announced regally, “and I am here on behalf of my father, the Duke of Glassbarrow. He is indisposed at the moment and sends his apologies for not being able to attend.”

I’d heard about that. Apparently, the duke had run into some trouble while hunting ice wyrms in the mountains of his territory. The court had been abuzz with who would come to represent him, as he was rumored to have only one daughter, who never left the estate.