Iron Kin: A Novel of the Half-Light City

by M. J. Scott

  He shook his head, but I wasn’t sure I entirely believed him.

  “Good,” Bryony said. “Then we should leave. This building can’t be safe, particularly not now that the queen has gone. And we need to make plans.”

  Plans for what exactly? Hunting down whoever had done this? How on earth were we supposed to do that? Someone had subverted the wards of the Treaty Hall and managed to kill the Speaker for the Veil. Anyone with that sort of power wasn’t going to be easy to find.

  Still, I couldn’t argue with the proposal to leave. There wasn’t much metal in the building—only the small traces in the stones it was constructed from and some of the furniture—but I could feel the strain in what little there was, the tiny faltering song of it speaking of stresses almost beyond bearing. Whatever magics had held the hall together for all this time had been torn, if not snuffed out altogether, and I would be surprised if it didn’t collapse. Soon.

  So I did as I was told, helping to gather the wounded and the still standing and herding them through our retreat back out into the night.

  FEN

  * * *

  The Beasts and the Blood had vanished into the darkness by the time we got the last of the human delegation out of the hall. There was no sign of the Fae either, not that I had expected there would be. No, they would be headed back to Summerdale, speeding their queen to safety.

  Fuck the Veil.

  This was a disaster beyond anything we could have expected. The queen had shut down the negotiations. My days of being tutored hadn’t made me into an expert in treaty law, but even I knew that with no negotiations, the treaty stood to fail.

  The square had attracted quite a crowd, people who had come running when the explosion had occurred, at a guess. Fortunately, amongst them were healers from both St. Giles and Merciful James who’d arrived with wagons and started loading up the wounded to transport them back to the hospital.

  “What now?” Saskia said as we watched the swirl of people milling around.

  “We wait,” I said. It went against my instincts, which were currently strongly suggesting that getting the hell out of the City would be the best plan at this point. I couldn’t. Not yet. I couldn’t leave Holly and Reggie. And I’d given my word to the DuCaines, including Saskia.

  But I hoped that we would, at least, be leaving the square soon. The magics in the hall had kept my visions at bay a little, but now, out here amongst the panicking crowd, they were starting to press in on me, making my temples throb as I tried not to see. I dug my fingers into the back of my neck, trying to ease the pressure and tension.

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded curtly, but Saskia reached for my hand anyway. My fingers curled around hers, grateful for the assistance. And if I were to be strictly honest about it, grateful for the familiar feel of her skin against mine. A sensation I was becoming accustomed to, starting to anticipate with more enthusiasm than was sensible. Even here and now, amidst chaos and destruction, I was keenly aware of the fact of her, standing close and warm and female.

  My mother had always said that men were the stupider sex, led around by their baser instincts. Right now I had to agree with her. What was I doing thinking about anything other than how we were going to get out of this mess?

  Simon, Guy, and Bryony eventually came over to us. Lily was with them.

  “What’s going to happen?” Saskia asked even as I squeezed her hand in warning. Simon looked pale and drawn, but his face, like his brother’s, was set and tight, radiating a deep fury. The chain around Bryony’s neck was a deep and sullen purplish red, echoing those emotions.

  “Bryony and I are going back to the hospital,” Simon said. “Guy will go back to the Brother House. Lily”—he stopped for a moment to think, rubbing his forehead with a grimy hand—“will go with the two of you back to Mother’s house. Then we’ll come fetch you.”

  “Fetch us where?”

  “Wherever it’s decided it’s safe,” Simon said curtly. “Don’t argue, Saskia. Not now. Just go. Get everyone packed and wait for us.”

  For once, she closed her mouth and nodded agreement.

  SASKIA

  * * *

  The trip back to Mother’s was less eventful than I’d feared it might be. Lily had brought Simon’s horse, Red, and one of the carriages and we made it back through the streets without incident. Fen sat silent and tense beside me the entire time, his expression fiercely alert as he kept watch out the carriage window.

  I wondered what he was seeing floating in front of those dark green eyes. More than just the City streets we were passing through—he’d let go of my hand once we’d entered the carriage—and most likely nothing good. He’d been pessimistic enough about the City’s fortunes before tonight’s turn for the worse.

  Right now he must feel like one of those soothsayers in the stories, doomed to speak the truth and never be believed. Doomed to watch the things they feared come to pass as they had seen them.

  I shivered at the thought. His was a power I had no desire for. Give me the clean singing strength of metal bent to my will beneath my hands. That I could understand. That I could do something with.

  The sight was another thing entirely.

  A curse rather than a blessing.

  It could very well be the death of Fen if he didn’t learn to control it or didn’t survive that which he’d seen if he couldn’t stop it coming to pass. I left Fen and Lily to see to the horse and carriage and went inside to find Mother. I didn’t have to go very far.

  She was pacing the hall beneath the watchful eyes of my father and our house steward, Edwards.

  “Saskia!” She bustled toward me as I appeared, her face turning pale as she took in my smoke-stained and rumpled appearance. “What in the name of all that—” She broke off, made a visible effort to restrain herself. After all, proper ladies didn’t swear. “What happened? We heard an awful noise and there have been people in the streets saying all sorts of terrible things. We thought it would be better to stay here. Is everyone—where are your brothers?” Her voice sharpened with anxiety.

  “They’re fine,” I said quickly, knowing she would be thinking of Edwina. “Simon is at St. Giles and Guy has gone back to the Brother House.”

  Though for all I knew Guy might well be patrolling by now. I couldn’t see the Templars doing anything but heading out to try and keep some semblance of peace. Of course, Father Cho might want Guy to stay behind to help form a strategy to deal with all of this.

  “But what happened?” Mother repeated. Edwards’ face echoed her curiosity and behind him, peering down from over the railing of the stairs, I could see most of the other staff listening. Hannah was there—her bright blond curls standing out amongst the white-capped maids—though she should have been in bed.

  “There was an attack—no, an explosion,” Lily said.

  I agreed with her correction. It had been an attack, but without knowing who was behind it there was no point in further fanning the flames of confusion. But neither was there any point in trying to conceal the truth. There was no way to keep what had happened at the hall secret—it would be all over the City in a few more hours—so we told the rest of the story as quickly as we could, though by unspoken agreement we left out the part where the queen had glamoured Guy, trying to cast her retreat from the negotiations as temporary.

  Who knew, maybe it would be. Maybe the queen would see reason and reconvene the negotiations tomorrow. I didn’t think one of Fen’s oddsmen would think that a very good bet. Still, even with my glossing over some of the more distressing details, there were gasps as I told of the Speaker’s death.

  My mother, though, did what she always did in a crisis. With her immediate fears laid to rest and with the facts at hand, she went into organizing mode, sending everyone around the house to pack things as Simon had commanded. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I thought he’d probably meant just her and Father and Hannah.

  If nothing else, I agreed with Mother that th
e servants would be safer away from our house too. If Ignatius was one of the people behind the attack, then the DuCaines were a likely target. The servants could go back to their families or perhaps seek shelter at one of the Havens.

  With nothing more to do and feeling fatigue start to crash down on me like an anvil, I climbed the stairs, determined to go to my room and wash and change if I could. A bath would be heaven, but I didn’t know if there would be enough time for that.

  Hannah was waiting for me near my room, having retreated when Mother had told her firmly to go back to her room. The back of her hair was caught into a rapidly disintegrating braid and she looked far younger than her fifteen years, face pinched with worry.

  “Is it true?” she said suddenly. “Is it really true? There was an attack at the negotiations?” I went to put an arm around her, then hesitated, not wanting to smear soot and gods knew what else all over her gown. She seemed not to care; she ducked under my arm anyway and hugged me.

  “It’s true,” I said, dropping a kiss on her hair. “But it will be all right. It will be fixed. Simon and Guy and Lily and Fen will make sure of that.” I blushed a little as his name came so easily to my lips as someone I depended on.

  Foolish. He had stuck by me so far, but he wasn’t bound to me or my family. I couldn’t say whether he would stay, or even if I expected him to.

  Wanting him to—that was another thing. I was getting to know the man he kept carefully hidden beneath his devil-may-care exterior. The man who chose to stand with those he counted as family rather than save himself. The man who’d thrown himself across my body to protect me, risking his life for me. I wanted more time with that man. In and out of bed.

  “You go back to your room and help Sylvie pack some things. Then try and rest.” I smoothed a hand over her head. Sylvie, who had looked after me before I’d left for the Guild and now was maid and confidante to Hannah, was both sensible and comforting. She would be able to keep Hannah calm. “I need to change. If you can’t sleep, then read. I’ll come to you once I’ve dressed.”

  I gave her another squeeze. Hannah so far had shown no sign of the powers that Simon and I had. She hated being the baby and the ordinary one. She must feel even more frustrated and helpless than I did. Well, I would make sure that she got to find her own place once things had settled again and she was old enough to make her way.

  If she didn’t turn out to be any kind of mage, then Guy and Simon would be even more protective of her than they were of me, so I would have to make sure she had a chance to live life as she chose. “Go, now.”

  I lifted my arm from her shoulders and gave her a gentle push toward her room, watching for a few seconds until she slipped inside her bedroom, then went to my own rooms, heading directly into the bathroom. I ran hot water in the basin and splashed my face before scrubbing it and my hands as best I could, making a mess of the towels.

  The feel of soap and hot water made my longing for a bath even stronger, but I made myself start to think about what I might need.

  Sylvie had wasted her time unpacking what I’d brought with me from the Academy when I’d taken my leave of absence. Packing would’ve gone faster if those clothes—my most sturdy and sensible—were all still in my trunk. The things I kept at Mother’s were pretty and frivolous, suited to the human world, but I didn’t think they were going to be what was required for the next few days.

  What I really needed were pants and tunics like Lily usually wore, something that provided ease of movement. I hadn’t packed the tough canvas trousers I sometimes wore in my workroom—I hadn’t expected to need them. Perhaps I could steal some of Simon’s old clothes. Lily was shorter and slimmer than me, so hers wouldn’t fit.

  I had dragged most of the clothes I wanted out of the armoire when there was a soft knock at the door.

  Hannah, I thought. Wanting company.

  But when I opened the door, it was Fen, not Hannah, who confronted me. Fen looking as weary and worried as I felt. He held a decanter in one hand and two glasses in the other.

  “Fen?” It was one thing to be alone together in his rooms at the Swallow, but inviting him in here in my mother’s house suddenly felt far more intimate.

  “Your mother,” he said softly as he reached out and pushed the door farther open, “sent me to tell you that there was a note.”

  I stepped back without thinking as he moved forward. He came into the room, put the glasses and the decanter next to the pile of clothes on my bed, and lowered himself into the chaise longue I kept by the window to read in. He moved as if his very bones hurt, none of the usual languid, graceful prowl of him evident in his movements.

  “A note?” I stayed where I was by the open door.

  “Simon.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Simon sent word. We’re to stay here tonight. The City is quiet for now, so we’re all”—he grimaced suddenly—“to get some rest and he’ll come in the morning.”

  I understood the grimace. Frustration.

  Simon and Guy wouldn’t be sleeping tonight; they’d be doing what they did best. Healing. Defending. Fighting back. Whereas I was trapped, as usual, into being able to do exactly nothing. I couldn’t leave. Lily and I were, if it came right down to it, the strongest two in the house. “Is Lily still here?” I asked. If I knew Lily, she’d be off to help Simon as soon as she could. Unless he’d asked her to stay put and help protect the house.

  Fen nodded. “Yes. Simon asked her to stay.”

  I expected she was about as pleased with being asked to remain here as I was. Not with having to protect us—she wouldn’t hesitate in that—but being separated from Simon was not something she liked at any time, let alone on a night like this when he was in danger.

  But knowing she was here made me rest a little easier. The house had strong wards . . . Simon and Holly had worked on them, strengthening them even more, over the last few days. Fen would know if there was anything wrong with them, as would I.

  “I guess we should sleep, then,” I said tentatively. Sleep sounded wonderful. Or even better, a bath before sleeping. But as tempting as both those things were, I made no move to usher Fen out of my room.

  “Personally, I’m going to drink first.” Fen laid his head against the back of the chaise, staring up at the ceiling. His face was streaked with soot like mine had been, his dark hair rumpled. His left hand was rubbing his right arm. He squinted up at the light coming from the gaslights in the walls, a wince splitting the dirt on his face. The bloodstain from the cut on his head was rusty brown now, blending with the rest of the dirt.

  “Does your head hurt?” I asked. “The visions . . .” I hesitated. Should I ask? Or had there been enough catastrophe and disaster for one night? But if I didn’t ask, I would just lie here for what was left of the night and wonder about it. “Have you seen anything?”

  Fen let out a long breath. His hand moved from his wrist to his temples, long fingers pressing into the flesh there as if part of him wanted to reach right inside his head and pull out what it was that pained him. “Nothing good,” he said.

  “I hardly expected rainbows and flowers,” I said. “Tell me the truth.”

  Fen didn’t move. “Pour me a drink first,” he said.

  I looked at him, then at the decanter. It would be better for him if I eased the pain with my powers rather than him dulling it with brandy, but I had the feeling that tonight he would drink regardless. I didn’t really blame him. The notion of oblivion was awfully appealing right now.

  Almost as appealing as the man himself, rumpled and stained and smoke-scented as he was. I bit my lip, then shut the door, turning the latch quietly. After all, it wouldn’t do for Hannah or one of the servants to find Fen here.

  I walked across to the bed, stared down at the glasses. “Tell me,” I said. “If you drink, you’ll forget.”

  “Good,” he muttered.

  “No, not good. I’m not asking anything that plenty of people aren’t going to be asking in the morning. If you tell me now,
you won’t have to repeat it for them.”

  “Much good my visions are,” he said, the words so bitter I could almost taste the sting on my tongue.

  “If I were any sort of a seer, surely I would have seen what happened tonight.”

  “Who would have believed you if you had?” I said, wanting to ease his anger. I knew the perils of that particular emotion. Had seen it drive my brothers into danger. Had felt it myself. In Fen, I sensed that he would drink anger and guilt like raw alcohol and the mixture might bring him to a breaking point. “Besides, the Treaty Hall is so full of wards and magics and bindings, it’s surprising that any of us could stand up straight, let alone use our powers. Tell me. Please?”

  “I saw the Fae in Summerdale,” he said. “The queen in black. I saw the hall in ruins and the Fae’s chambers in the City empty. Fire. Blood ashes. More of the same.”

  “Did you see Ignatius?”

  Fen rubbed his head again. “Ignatius laughing. Ignatius on that gods-damned throne. And this time there were more people around him. Whoever did this tonight, it’s made things worse.”

  “You think it was him?”

  A grimace. “He couldn’t do it alone. Enough power to break all those wards . . . it’s not something the Blood have. He would’ve needed Fae help.”

  That was a thought to chill the bones. My urge to join Fen in drinking ourselves into a stupor grew stronger. Not that I’d ever actually managed to achieve that goal before. Mages have to work very hard to get drunk.

  According to Simon it has something to do with our bodies burning the food we eat more quickly to fuel our power—the reason he said I could eat almost as much as he and Guy could and still fit into my corsets. Personally I think it has more to do with lugging iron bars around and sweating over my forge half the day, but I’m not a healer. So I choose not to argue with my brother over that. Still, I usually lose my stomach for alcohol well before it has the appropriate effect on me. But maybe I’d just never had quite the right incentive.

  I eyed the brandy decanter speculatively. “Surely the queen will see that. Then she’ll have to reconvene the negotiations if she wants to bring him to justice.”