The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey)

by Julie Kagawa

  “I know that’s a selfish reason,” I muttered, staring at the counter. “But when Meghan left...it screwed me up pretty bad. I practically worshipped her, you know, when I was little.” The words felt strange, coming from my mouth. I’d never told anyone this before. “For a long time, I believed she would come back. That whenever she finished what she had to do in Faery, she would come home. But she never did, not to stay. And then when Samantha got hurt...I lost her, too. She was my only friend, and...”

  I trailed off, embarrassed. Kenzie was quiet, though I could feel her watching me. “That’s not an excuse,” I admitted. “I know that. But this scares me, Kenzie. Having you so close to this world, when all it’s done is rip things away from me...” I sighed, studying my hands so I didn’t have to look at her. “I panicked. I thought it would be better to keep you away from Them, even if it meant leaving you behind.”

  Kenzie’s soft fingers on my arm surprised me, and I glanced up into her serious brown eyes. “I don’t want you to protect me, Ethan,” she said, squeezing my wrist. “I want to stand beside you when you face whatever Faery has to offer. And I want you to know that you’re not alone, that you don’t have to shoulder this all by yourself anymore. I know I’m sick, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and die. I just wish you would trust me enough to share some of that burden.”

  I swallowed hard. “I promise,” I said, holding her gaze. “From now on, I won’t ever try to keep you away. I’ll still probably be insanely paranoid and overprotective, but if you want to march into the Nevernever and wave a stick at a dragon, I won’t try to stop you.”

  She raised a disbelieving eyebrow, a faint smile crossing her face. “Really? You won’t try to stop me at all.”

  “Nope. I’ll just be sure to stand in front of the dragon with a shield when it tries to cook you.”

  The smile broke through. “I think you have the roles backward, tough guy. Of the two of us, who’s more likely to go waving their sticks at a dragon?”

  “Hey, I have swords now. If I’m going to be picking a fight with a dragon, you can be sure it’s not going to be with a stick.”

  “Ethan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  The tightness in my chest deflated, and I straightened. Stepping forward, I drew her into my arms, stool and all, and brought my lips down to hers. She tilted her head up, her hands climbing my chest to the side of my face, burying her fingers in my hair. I groaned, clutching her tighter, feeling relief spread through me, and something else. Dammit, I couldn’t stop her from following me into danger, but I sure as hell was going to protect her while she was here. I would throw myself in front of the dragon if it came down to that.

  My heart pounded, and I kissed her deeper, my stomach twisting as she parted her lips, letting me in. Her tongue teased mine, and everything that had brought us here—Keirran, Annwyl, the Fade—rushed out of my head. I’d never felt anything like this before: these crazy, swirling emotions, all centered around the girl in my arms. Kenzie scared me, infuriated me, challenged me, and faeries or no, I couldn’t imagine a world without this girl. I loved her more than anything else in my life.

  My heart turned over, and the air caught in my throat. I pulled back, breathless with the realization.

  I...was in love. With Kenzie.

  The first sensation that rushed through me after that insight was terror. I’d never meant to fall in love; the fey hurt everyone I truly cared for. I’d resolved never to be so vulnerable, never to open myself up to that again. Everyone I loved became victims and targets....

  Stop it, Ethan. You’ve had this argument a thousand times. It doesn’t work with Kenzie, remember?

  Okay, yeah. I knew that much. Kenzie wouldn’t go for that excuse and wouldn’t let me get away with it, either. So, now what?

  “Uh-oh.” Kenzie’s voice brought my attention back to her. She peered up at me with a half smile, her fingers gently stroking the nape of my neck, making my stomach dance. “I know that look. What’s going through your head, tough guy?”

  I love you, Mackenzie. And it’s freaking me out a little. I swallowed. “Nothing,” I said, kissing her lightly on the mouth. She gave me a dubious look, and I smiled, running a strand of hair through my fingers. “Are we okay?” I asked instead. “Am I forgiven?”

  I expected a smart-ass response, but Kenzie just nodded, leaning into me and laying her head on my chest. A little alarmed, my arms tightened around her. “You all right?”

  “Just tired,” she murmured, which did not ease the alarm. The last time I’d pulled her into this craziness, she’d ended up in the hospital. I didn’t think the stress of running around fighting evil faeries and having her whole family mind-scrambled was helping her condition. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” I told her, feeling her relax against me. “It’s been a long night.”

  But she shook her head, leaning back. “No, I’m okay. I just need a Red Bull or something. Besides, I can’t sleep until I know what will happen to Annwyl.”

  Or Keirran, I thought.

  Footsteps, and then Guro entered the kitchen, looking tired but firm. He had dressed all in black, and for some reason, he looked a little frightening. Which was weird; I never thought of him like that. His sharp black eyes flickered to me, and he nodded gravely.

  “It’s time.”

  * * *

  We trailed Guro out to his SUV, and though Keirran didn’t look happy at the thought of riding in a car again with Annwyl, he climbed in without question. Guro was right; the drive wasn’t far, just a few blocks down the street until it the road dead-ended at the edge of an overgrown lot. A small dirt path cut through the weeds toward a clump of trees in the distance.

  Guro pulled a five-gallon bucket from the back and handed it to me. It was full of lighter fluid, firewood, charcoal briquettes and a rolled-up blanket. Taking out a portable stereo and a small cooler, Guro motioned for us to follow.

  We walked single file down a narrow trail that cut through trees and swampland, beneath huge oaks dripping with Spanish moss, until we reached a small clearing at the water’s edge. Trees surrounded us, branches dangling close together, lacy curtains of moss waving in the breeze. Guro walked to the perimeter of the glen and laid the quilt over the dusty ground.

  “Put your friend right here,” he said, indicating the blanket. “She will need to be well out of the way for what we must do tonight.”

  Keirran obeyed, kneeling and gently depositing the Summer fey on the blanket. For a moment, he stayed there, holding her hand, the Summer faery limp and transparent. His face was anguished as he bent down, gently kissing her. “Hold on, Annwyl,” I heard him whisper, pulling away. “Please, hold on, just a little longer.”

  Kenzie moved to the blanket, putting a hand on Keirran’s shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” she told him, and he smiled at her gratefully. Sitting cross-legged at the edge, she took Annwyl’s slender, transparent hand in her own, and Keirran walked slowly over to me and Guro.

  Guro had already built a stone fire pit and was filling it with coal, wood and kindling. Beside it, the bucket of lighter fluid, a box of matches and...

  I swallowed. An amulet. The kind Guro had given me and I’d passed on to Kenzie. A small metal disk on a leather cord, sitting there so innocently on the ground. My apprehension grew. It seemed too small and ordinary for what it was supposed to do: stop a faery from Fading into nothingness.

  But I trusted that Guro knew what he was doing.

  “Ethan, Keirran.” Guro turned to us. “I warn you both again, this could get very dark before it is done. You might discover things about each other, and yourselves, that you did not know and do not like. I issue this one final warning before we begin—this is black magic that we are dealing with, and it must not be taken lightly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Guro,” I said, and Keirran nodded gravely.

  “Very well.” He knelt in front of the bowl and began p
ouring in liberal amounts of lighter fluid. “This is what I need you to do,” he went on, not looking up from his task. “You both know how to fight, yes? When I give the signal, I want you to shadow spar each other around the fire using your blades. Look at your opponent and what they are doing—block, counter and attack them in the air, but do not touch each other. Understood?”

  “Yes,” I replied, recognizing this exercise from my kali class. We would stand several feet from each other and spar without touching our opponent or their weapon, trying to block and counter their moves in the air. Though we usually used wooden rattan sticks, not live blades.

  Keirran frowned slightly, probably having never done this before, but nodded. “I’ll follow your lead,” he told me. “Just tell me when.”

  “One more thing.” Guro stood and beckoned to Keirran, who stepped forward instantly. I jumped when Guro pulled out a knife, but Keirran didn’t move as the weapon was held up.

  “Your blood,” Guro said, staring at the faery prince. “You need to spill a few drops onto the amulet so it starts to hunger for you.”

  My heart pounded. I didn’t like where this was going at all, but Keirran took the knife without hesitation. Guro held the amulet faceup, and the fey prince immediately sliced the blade across his palm. Thick red blood pooled from Keirran’s hand and dripped onto the polished bronze surface. When the amulet’s face was covered in red, Guro turned away and set it on the ground again.

  “Ethan, stand over there,” Guro said, pointing to one side of the pit. I did, and Keirran took his place on the opposite side. Guro turned and clicked on the stereo behind him, turning up the volume. Dark, eerie drumming began to play, making my skin prickle, and Guro lit the kindling in the fire pit. The flames sprang up, tongues of orange and red, bathing the glade in a ghostly light. They flickered and snapped, clawing at the air, throwing weird dancing shadows over the trees and Guro’s face.

  “Go,” Guro ordered, his voice low and intense, and started chanting.

  I met Keirran’s gaze over the fire and began to move.

  At first, I kept my eyes on my “opponent,” my movements smooth and deliberate, so he could see what I was doing. I would swing, he would block. He would counterattack, I would defend. At first, I thought I’d have an advantage with my two swords to his one, but I was wrong. Keirran not only kept up with me, I had to work not to let any of his “imaginary” blows get through. As our sparring got faster and the dance more serious, Keirran began to disappear, until I was only aware of our swords, flashing in the orange light, and my opponent’s next move.

  Around us, the drums beat a frantic rhythm, primal and dark, and someone’s voice rose above it all, chanting words I didn’t understand. They didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except my swords and the darting blade across from me. Anger flared as all my strikes were blocked, all my blows were deflected. The drums swirled around me, goading and furious. I would not lose to him. I would not—

  The clang of metal and the jolt up my arm shocked me back to reality. Somehow, Keirran and I had moved closer to the fire and were now just a few feet apart, glaring at each other over the flames. I blinked and shook myself, ready to draw back.

  The cold, icy stranger met my gaze over the fire and swung his blade at my head.

  I blocked, stepping to the side and meeting the sword with my own. The metal screeched, raising the hair on my neck, and shock shifted into fury.

  I responded in kind, whipping my second blade at his face. He dodged, the edge barely missing him, and slashed up with his own weapon. The clang and screech of metal filled the air, mixing with the roar of drums and the frenzied chanting.

  As I slashed at my opponent’s chest, a sudden stab of pain went up my arm. It flared red-hot for a moment, surprising me more than anything, and I staggered back. A quick glance revealed what I already knew; I’d been hit, and blood was starting to ooze down my forearm.

  My vision went red. The drums, the chanting, they screamed at me, filling my senses. Fury bubbled up from a deep, dark well, consuming me, making me sick with hate. I knew him. I saw what he was now. He was the reason I’d lost my sister, the reason she never visited anymore. She had wanted to keep Keirran and me apart, make sure we never met, and in doing so had isolated herself, as well.

  I snarled at my enemy, hating him, and lunged forward with a yell.

  He met me in the center of the glade, sword flashing, his face frozen in an icy mask. It reminded me of that night in the Lady’s throne room, the night he betrayed me, and my rage soared higher. I lashed out viciously, knocking his sword away and stabbing forward with my second blade. The tip pierced his side, right below his rib cage, and his lips tightened with pain.

  Setting his jaw, he raised his hand. I realized what was coming a second later and dived aside, as a blast of icicle-laced air tore into the trees behind me, the lethal ice darts shredding leaves and sticking into trunks. Snarling, I whipped around as the prince came at me, his weapon scything down, and brought both blades stabbing toward his heart.

  “Ethan! Keirran!”

  Kenzie’s voice slammed into me, piercing the maelstrom of drums, chanting, fury and hate. I blinked and pulled up just as Keirran did the same, coming to a halt maybe a foot away. I could suddenly feel the cool edge of his sword against my throat, the tips of my own weapons resting on his chest, right over his heart.

  I was shaking, anger and violence still singing through my veins. I glared at the opponent across from me, still feeling his betrayal, all the anger I normally kept locked away still raging below the surface. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel the pain he had caused just by existing, tearing our family apart. Thirteen years of abandonment, of missing my sister, of living in hell, all because he’d been born.

  Then Keirran took a deep, shaky breath, and the terrible light went out of his eyes. “Ethan,” he whispered, and the blade at my throat trembled. “What...are we doing?”

  Horror sliced through me. Dropping my swords, I lurched away, staring at him. What was I doing? What was wrong with me? Keirran lowered his blade, too, looking dazed and just as horrified. And at that moment, the chanting, the drums, the fire, everything, flared up with a roar.

  I staggered, my stomach turning inside out. I could feel the dark energy around us now, the anger, rage and hate generated by Keirran and I, swirling around the glade. The fire blazed and snapped in the pit, and I saw Guro on his feet with the knife in hand, still chanting at the bloody disk on the ground.

  The amulet was glowing, pulsing red and black, almost like it was panting and alive. Guro shouted something at it, pointing at Keirran with the knife, and I swear I saw the thing try to leap off the ground toward the prince.

  Keirran gasped, his sword dropping from his hand and hitting the dirt with a thump. Clutching his chest, his legs buckled, and he fell to his hands and knees, bowing his head. The darkness around us swirled, then, as if it was being forced down a drain, flowed toward the small metal disk on the ground and was sucked into it.

  The wind tossing the branches died. The fire flickered and burned low. Keirran still knelt on the ground, panting, eyes closed. On the blanket, Kenzie met my gaze with a look that clearly said Go help him. Still fighting the last vestiges of anger and the now-overwhelming sense of guilt, I sheathed my swords and hurried over to him.

  “Keirran.”

  “I’m...okay,” the prince gasped. Shuddering, he sat back on his heels, and I noticed the dark, wet stain marring one side of his shirt. Shit, that was me. I did that. Why? I was angry, I guessed. Angry enough to actually land a blow, to deliberately hurt him. Why had I been so furious? I couldn’t remember now.

  My arm throbbed, and I looked down to see my entire right hand and forearm streaked with blood, running in streams down my skin. Keirran saw where I was looking and winced.

  “Ethan, I—”

  “Forget it,” I said gruffly. “Let’s not think about it, okay? Guro said this was dark magic we were dealing with. I’ll p
ut this behind me if you’ll do the same.”

  He nodded, looking relieved. I held out my uninjured hand, which he took without hesitation, and I pulled him to his feet.

  Guro waited for us by the fire, his expression grave and weary. He didn’t say anything about our injuries or the way our “shadow sparring” had devolved into an actual fight. I was too ashamed to say anything, feeling as if I’d just failed an important test, but Keirran stepped forward, his face anxious.

  “Did...did it work?”

  Guro regarded him solemnly, then held out his hand.

  The amulet sat in his palm, glittering copper in the dying firelight. But it wasn’t the same. Sure, it looked the same, a small metal disk with a simple leather cord, but it practically glowed with malevolence now. Call me crazy, but I felt like I was staring at a living, breathing, angry thing. All my thoughts about its normality and insignificance disappeared, and I was almost afraid to step close for fear it would leap up and bite me.

  “Be careful,” Guro told Keirran, who had shivered and drawn back a step when the amulet was uncovered. “The ating-ating is connected to you now, but not in a good way. It hungers for your life force, for your strength and magic and everything that makes you who you are. It will bestow that power upon its wearer, but you need to be aware that it will continue to draw from you until your strength fails and your magic is gone. I can destroy the ating-ating,” he added, perhaps seeing the look on my face, “but it will have to be done soon. The longer you wait, the stronger it grows and the more damage it can do. If it goes too long, that damage will be permanent.”

  I looked at Keirran. He stared at the amulet like it was a venomous snake, curled in Guro’s palm, before taking a deep breath and shaking his head. “No. If this is what it takes to save her, I’ll gladly risk it.”

  “It is not forever,” Guro warned. “It will sustain her only as long as you live. How long that will be depends on your own strength, but eventually, you will both perish.”

  My blood went cold, but Keirran nodded calmly. “I understand. We’re just buying her time, buying us all time, until we can find a permanent solution.”