The Iron Queen if-3

by Julie Kagawa

  “There has to be a way,” I muttered. “You’re all faeries, you use glamour the same way. You’re just a little different, that’s all.”

  “We’re not,” Glitch said firmly, “a little different. Our glamour kills oldbloods. Summer magic is deadly to us, as well. If you think we can hold hands and be friends, princess, you’re only fooling yourself. But we need to stop soon, or this army will be too exhausted to fight anything.”

  I shook my head. “No, we have to keep moving. At least until we’re out of the tunnels.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” I closed my eyes. “He’s almost there.”

  All three faeries stared at me. “How do you know?” Ash asked softly.

  “I can feel him.” Goose bumps rose along my arms, and I hugged myself, shivering. “I can feel the land…crying out where he passes. It feels…” I paused, searching for words. “It feels like someone is dragging a blade across the surface, leaving a scar behind. I’ve been able to sense him ever since we passed Ferrum’s old chamber. The false king…he’s getting close to the wyldwood now, and he’s waiting for me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE LAST NIGHT

  Eventually, we came out of the tunnels.

  The night was remarkably clear as we set up camp, a tattered, ragtag army pitching tents on the edge of a bubbling magma lake, the air smelling of sulphur and brimstone. I didn’t want to camp so close to the lake but Glitch overrode me, saying the smell would mask our presence, and besides his army was exhausted thanks to my forced march through the packrat tunnels. Even Ash and Puck were tired; they wouldn’t say anything, but the gaunt looks and pale faces told me they weren’t feeling the best. Their amulets were almost used up. The Iron Realm was finally taking its toll.

  “Go lie down,” I told them both, once Glitch had left to help the army pitch camp. “You’re both exhausted, and we’re not doing anything else tonight. Get some rest.”

  Puck snorted. “My, aren’t we bossy today,” he said, though it lacked his usual energy. “Give a girl an army and it goes straight to her head.” He yawned then, scrubbing his scalp. “Right, then. If anyone needs me, I’ll be passed out in my tent, trying to forget where I am. Oh, look, demon fey, lake of liquid hot magma—does this remind you of anything?” He grimaced, giving me a weak grin. “When I said I’d follow you to hell and back, I wasn’t trying to be literal, princess. Ah, well.” He lifted one hand in a cheerful wave. “See you tomorrow, lovebirds.”

  “What about you?” Ash asked as Puck sauntered off, whistling loudly. “You’ve been walking just as long as the rest of us. We won’t have another chance to rest before we reach the battleground.”

  A flash of movement caught my attention. For a moment, I thought I saw a furry gray cat leap onto a boulder near the edge of the lake. But the air around him shimmered with heat, and he was gone. “I know,” I said, squinting in the hot, dry air. “And it might sound strange, but I feel fine. You go on,” I continued, gazing up at him. “I know you’re tired. Get some rest before the battle. I’ll be around.”

  He didn’t argue, which showed me just how exhausted he was. Stepping close, he placed a soft kiss on my forehead and walked off toward the ring of tents farthest from the lake. I watched him until he vanished behind an old, twisted monolith, then I wandered down to the lake edge.

  This close to the lava, my skin felt like it would peel off my bones if I scratched at it, and I didn’t dare venture too close to the edge. One slip or stumble, and it would end very badly. Magma bubbled sluggishly, curling in slow, hypnotic patterns of orange and gold, strangely beautiful in the hellish glow. For a moment, I had the brief, crazy urge to skip a pebble across the glowing surface, then decided that would probably be a bad idea.

  “The Molten Pool,” said a voice beside me, and Grimalkin appeared atop a boulder, his whiskers glowing red in the light. I was relieved to see him, though I knew he could take care of himself. “In the center of the Obsidian Plains. Ironhorse told me about this. These were his lands, back in the days of King Machina.”

  “Ironhorse.” I leaned back against the rock and gazed out over the pool. The boulder was warm to the touch, even through my armor. “I wish he could’ve been here to see this,” I muttered, imagining the huge, black-iron horse standing proudly at the other side of the lake. “I wish we could’ve brought him home.”

  “There is no use in wishing for the impossible, human.” Grimalkin sat down, curling his tail around himself, as we both stared out over the lake. “Ironhorse knew what he had to do. Do not let human guilt distract you from your duty, for Ironhorse did not.”

  I sighed. “Is that what you had to say to me, Grim? Don’t feel guilty for a friend’s death?”

  “No.” The cat twitched an ear and stood, facing me directly. “I have come to tell you that I am leaving, and I did not want you worrying about my whereabouts on the eve of battle. There are more important things to focus on. So…I am leaving.”

  I pushed myself off the rock and turned to face him. “Why?”

  “Human, my part here is done.” Grimalkin regarded me with what could almost be affection. “Tomorrow, you march into battle with an army of Iron fey at your back. There is no place for me in this fight—I am under no illusion that I am a warrior.” He stepped forward, ancient golden eyes staring into mine, reflecting the light of the pool. “I have brought you as far as I can. It is time for you to step forward on your own and claim your destiny. Besides…” Grimalkin sat back, gazing out across the lake, the hot breeze ruffling his whiskers. “I have my own contract to fulfill, before this is all over.”

  “You made a contract?”

  He gave me his disdainful look, twitching his tail. “You don’t believe Ironhorse asked for nothing in return, do you? Really, human, sometimes I despair. But the night is waning, and I must go.” Leaping gracefully off the rock, he began trotting away, bottlebrush tail held straight up and proud.

  I swallowed hard. “Grim? Will I see you again?”

  The cait sith turned back, cocking his head. “Now, that is a strange question,” he mused. “Will you see me again, though I myself am no oracle and know nothing of the future? This I cannot tell you. I will never understand humans, but I suppose it is part of your charm.” He sniffed again, waving his plumed tail lazily. “Do try to stay out of trouble, human. I will be terribly annoyed if you manage to get yourself killed.”

  “Grim, wait. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  Grimalkin smiled. “I am a cat.”

  And, just like that, he was gone.

  I smiled faintly and wiped a stray tear from my face. Grim had always vanished and reappeared at will, but this time it was different. I suddenly knew I wouldn’t see him again, not for a long time anyway.

  “Goodbye, Grimalkin,” I whispered, and in an even softer voice, lest the cunning feline be nearby listening, added, “thank you.”

  I shivered in the hot wind, already feeling his loss. How many more would I lose before this was over? Somewhere out there, closer than ever, the false king was closing on the armies of Summer and Winter. Tomorrow was the moment of truth. Tomorrow was Judgment Day, where we would either be victorious, or die.

  I suddenly wished I could talk to my family. I wanted to see Mom’s face again, hold Ethan and ruffle his hair one last time. I even wanted to see Luke, to tell him I forgave him for never noticing me, never seeing me. Mom was happy with him, and if she hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have Ethan as a brother. I wouldn’t have a family. My throat closed up, and longing twisted my stomach into a painful knot. Would they miss me, if I never came home? Would they stop looking for me eventually, the daughter who vanished one night and never returned?

  The wind howled across the plain, lonely and desolate, as the full realization hit me and clutched my heart with icy fingers. I could die tomorrow. This was a war, and there would be numerous casualties on both sides. The false king himself could be too much, if I even figured out a way
to get into his fortress. We could very well lose. I could be struck down, and my family would never know what happened, what I was fighting for. If I died, who would tell them? Oberon? No, if I lost, he would fade away, as well. If I lost, it would be over. The end of Faery. Forever.

  Oh, God.

  I was shaking now, unable to stop myself. This was really it. The last battle, and it all rested on me. What if I failed? If I couldn’t beat the false king, they would all die—Oberon, Grim, Puck, Ash…

  Ash.

  Shivering, I hurried back to the camp, past the cluster of tents set up around the lake. The camp was quiet and still, unlike the wild, prebattle revel of the Summer and Winter camps. I suddenly understood the significance and would have welcomed the distraction tonight. Too many dark thoughts were swirling around my head, so many emotions that I felt I would burst. But, despite everything I felt and the crazy emotions churning inside me, it all came back to him.

  I found his tent sitting on the edge of camp, farther out from the rest. I didn’t know how I knew it was his; all the tents looked basically the same. But I could feel him, as surely as I felt my own heartbeat. For a moment, I hesitated at the entrance, my hand poised to push back the cloth. What would I say to him, the last night we could be alive?

  Gathering my courage, I pushed open the flap and stepped inside.

  Ash lay on his back in the corner, one arm flung over his eyes, his breathing slow and deep. He was shirtless, and the amulet gleamed against his sculpted chest, almost completely black now, a drop of ink against his pale skin. I was surprised he hadn’t heard me come in; the normal Ash would’ve been up and on his feet with his sword drawn in the blink of an eye. He must’ve been truly exhausted from our march through the tunnels. Taking advantage of the moment, I watched him, admiring the lean, hard muscles, gazing at the scars slashed across his pale skin. His chest rose and fell with each quiet breath, and just watching him sleep made me feel a bit calmer.

  “How long are you going to keep staring at me?”

  I jumped. He hadn’t moved, but one corner of his mouth was curved in a slight smile. “How long did you know I was here?”

  “I felt you the moment you came to the tent and stood outside, wondering if you should come in.” Ash removed his arm and shifted to perch on an elbow, watching me. His expression was solemn now, silver eyes bright in the gloom. “What’s wrong?”

  I swallowed. “I just…I wanted…oh, dammit…” Blushing, I trailed off, gazing at the floor. “I’m scared,” I finally admitted in a whisper. “Tomorrow’s the war and we could die and I won’t ever see my family again and…and I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  Ash’s gaze softened. Without a word, he shifted back on the cot, making room for me. Heart pounding, I crossed the room and lay down next to him, feeling his arm wrap around my stomach, pulling me close. I felt his heartbeat against my back and closed my eyes, tracing idle patterns on his arm, brushing a faint scar on the back of his wrist.

  “Ash?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you scared? Of dying?”

  He was quiet a moment, one hand playing with my hair, his breath fanning across my cheek. “Perhaps not in the way you would think,” he murmured at last. “I’ve lived a long time, been in many battles. Of course, there was always that knowledge that I could die, but there have been times I’ve wondered if I shouldn’t give up, let it happen.”

  “Why?”

  “To escape the emptiness. I was dead inside for so long. Not existing didn’t seem any different than what I was doing.” He buried his face in my shoulder, and I shivered. “It’s different now, though. I have something to fight for. I’m not afraid to die, but I don’t intend to give up, either.” His lips touched my hair, very lightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured. “You are my heart, my life, my entire existence.”

  My eyes watered, and my heart thudded in my ears. “Ash,” I whispered again, clenching my fists in the quilt to stop the shaking. I knew what I wanted, but I was still afraid, afraid that I wouldn’t do it right, afraid of the unknown, afraid that I would somehow disappoint him. Ash kissed the back of my neck, and I felt his arm tighten, fingers digging into my shirt. I saw a flare of color behind me, bright red desire, felt him tremble as he struggled to control himself, and all my doubts melted away.

  I shifted in his arms, rolling toward him so that he was propped on an elbow above me, eyes shining in the darkness. And I let him see the need, the longing, rising up like tendrils of colored smoke to dance with his. I didn’t have to say anything. He drew in a quiet breath and lowered his head, touching his forehead to mine.

  “Are you sure?” His voice was barely a whisper, a ghost in the dark.

  I nodded, tracing my fingers down his cheek, marveling as he closed his eyes. “We could die tomorrow,” I whispered back. “I want to be with you tonight. I don’t want to have any regrets, when it comes to us. So, yes, I’m sure. I love you, Ash.”

  My voice was lost then, as Ash closed the final few inches and kissed me. And in the quiet stillness before dawn, on the brink of a war that could tear us apart, our auras danced and twined in the darkness, coiling around each other until they finally merged, becoming one.

  PART THREE

  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?”