Iron Kin: A Novel of the Half-Light City

by M. J. Scott

  Bryony twisted toward Guy. “The Fae sealed the hall? I thought I felt something odd a few hours before dawn.”

  “Yes. No one can get inside right now. There are wards that, to quote Liam, would take your f—” Guy caught himself, suddenly remembering that Father was still in the room. “That would prove fatal to anyone who tries to cross them.”

  Well, that wasn’t good. Not least because the longer the humans were denied access to the hall, the more time there was for the traces of whatever had caused the explosion to fade. “Were there any Fae there?”

  “Not that they could see. Of course, anything could have been going on inside and we’d be none the wiser.” Guy shifted in his seat, stretching his shoulders with another crack of muscles.

  “Do you need healing?” Bryony asked.

  “No. I’m not hurt. Just stiff.”

  “So what do we do now?” I asked.

  “Father Cho is speaking with the council now, along with the Guild Masters. I’d imagine they’re trying to figure out how to send a request to the Veiled Court that the negotiations recommence. I wouldn’t be surprised if they decide to give the queen another few days to calm down.”

  “The rites for the Speaker will have to be held before sunset today,” Bryony said.

  I wondered if a funeral would help the queen or just make her angrier. My memories of Edwina’s funeral were of vast grief and the abiding rage that simmered beneath the depths of all-encompassing sadness. If I could have torn the Blood who’d addicted her limb from limb, I would have done so. Watching her coffin being lowered into the earth, knowing it held only her ashes—burning was the law for the bodies of the blood-locked—hadn’t eased my hurt and fury any. If anything, it had made it worse.

  But perhaps the Fae were wiser than me.

  The memory of the queen’s voice demanding to know who had caused the Speaker’s death suggested otherwise.

  “Well, then,” Fen said, “I’d imagine the council will wait until tomorrow. Unless they’re idiots. The Speaker wasn’t the only one killed, after all.”

  “Did anyone figure out the issue with replacing delegates?” Simon asked.

  Guy nodded. “In case of death or sickness, yes, it’s allowable. That was the other thing that the advocates managed to get to the bottom of last night. But they have to move fast. There has to be a full complement of delegates for the opening rituals to be completed.”

  I looked across at Fen, wondering what he was thinking. I hadn’t asked if he was sticking around last night, but I’d wondered.

  “Can the rituals even be completed? With the hall so damaged? The stones . . . what if the stones were destroyed?”

  “There’s nothing unique about the stones,” Bryony said. “The spells could be re-wrought. The magics of the hall go deep. It’s likely the rituals can still be performed. If not, well, the first negotiations were held in the open air outside the City. Maybe we’ll just have to re-create history.”

  Out in the open at night? That would give the Beasts and the Blood a degree of advantage I didn’t like to contemplate. But it would be up to the Fae to police the negotiations, and it seemed unlikely that the Veiled Queen would be in the mood to brook any attempts to subvert the proceedings. If she was in the mood to attend the negotiations at all.

  “There’s no point just sitting here and speculating,” Guy said. “We can’t do any more until the Fae make their move. I need to get back to the Brother House and Simon and Bryony have work to do.”

  “Is there something I can do to help?” I asked.

  Simon nodded. “I’m sure you can help somewhere. I’ll ask. But I want you to see that everyone is settled first.”

  “I will.” Hopefully I could think of something to say to Hannah, to make her feel better about being kept out of things. I had no idea what, though. “Maybe you can think of something for Hannah to do as well. That will keep her mind off everything that’s happening. Make her feel useful.”

  Stop her from doing something foolish, hopefully.

  None of us had truly had a childhood after Edwina’s death, but Hannah, as the youngest of us, had lost the most. The rest of us had had to grow up fast, but she’d had the same life-changing loss and not so many years of happiness before it to buffer her. Guy was already sworn to the Templars when Edwina died and Simon had changed his path to the healers shortly after the funeral. My powers coming in had been another blow to her. She was older than she should be for her age, but at the same time still somehow innocent. I wanted to keep her that way a little longer, even though I knew she had to stretch her wings sometime.

  Bryony rose and gathered the teacups from those of us still holding them. “I’ll find one of the orderlies to take you to your family.”

  Fen moved restlessly in his chair, stretching his arms. The iron at his wrist was a bright blip in the song of the room. It was pressed tight against his skin. I wanted to take it off, soothe the pain he must be feeling.

  And what did it say about me that I still thought of him in the midst of all this chaos? I needed to concentrate on what was important. There would hardly be any opportunity for us to be together, anyway.

  Though as I thought about the size of St. Giles and the miles of tunnels and abandoned wards belowground, there were still some possibilities available to us. Lily and Simon regularly spent nights here, and those two, as much as they tried to hide it, could hardly keep their hands off each other at the best of times. Guy and Holly were little better, but Guy at least had an apartment outside the Brother House, one that Mother had procured for him after he’d taken his final vows.

  Simon had his house too, of course, but he worked so many nights that St. Giles was like a second home to him.

  I hoped it wasn’t about to become mine as well.

  An orderly, a slim young man with bright red hair, appeared rapidly in answer to Bryony’s summons.

  “So,” Fen said, as I rose, “what happens now?”

  Guy stood and stretched. “Personally, I’m going to see if I can sleep for a bit before Father Cho wants me again.” He looked around the room. “The rest of you should get some rest too.”

  The last thing I wanted was sleep. I was tired, yes, but I couldn’t imagine actually being able to sleep if I did lie down. I needed to do something. Anything. “I’m not tired,” I said. “I’ll look in on Mother and Hannah, but then I can do whatever you need, Simon.”

  * * *

  We dispersed rapidly. I helped Mother get the rooms we’d been assigned organized to her satisfaction. When Bryony came looking for me an hour or so later, I was glad to escape. Hannah seemed eager to come with me, so I brought her along, hoping to give Mother a chance to rest.

  Bryony put us to work helping serve lunch to the patients and making sure that the relatives who were filling the halls and waiting rooms were given tea and other refreshments. It wasn’t difficult work but it was unrelenting. The hours flew by.

  The trolley the kitchen had given me to wheel the tea things around on had a slightly crooked wheel that made it apt to steer itself into walls and doorframes. I probably could’ve fixed it, given the right tools, but there wasn’t any time.

  I had just barely avoided spilling another pot of tea by bumping the trolley into the doorframe of one of the last wards we’d been asked to take care of when I stopped short. Hannah, bearing a basket of scones, almost ran into me.

  “Careful,” she said.

  I ignored her, staring at the bed nearest the door. In it, half her head swathed in bandages as well as her arms and whatever else of her I could see, lay Sara Ledbetter. The prentice who’d been given my place in the Guild’s delegation.

  That could have been me.

  Bile rose in my throat. It would have been me. If I’d been sitting with the metalmages.

  “Excuse me,” I muttered to Hannah and then bolted from the room. Fortunately there was a bathroom just a few feet down the corridor.

  I hung over the washbasin, retching as th
e images of the explosion and death and body parts welled up before my eyes again. The air seemed to fill with the stink of the smoke and burning flesh. Like the Beast I’d killed yesterday.

  I retched again.

  Then jumped as someone pressed a cool towel to the back of my neck.

  “It’s just me,” Lily said quietly.

  The towel, and the faint green scent Lily always brought with her, seemed to help. Still, I hung over the basin for a minute more until I was sure my stomach was under control.

  Lily didn’t say anything as I ran the taps to rinse the basin clean and wiped my face with another towel.

  “Better?” she asked as I stood, still breathing carefully.

  “Mostly,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “I’ve seen worse things than you throwing up. What brought it on?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not sure. One of the patients—Sara—I know her from the Academy. She’s burned.” I pressed my hands into my eyes as though I could block out the image of Sara and all those bandages. It didn’t work. I opened my eyes again and faced Lily.

  “Is she a friend?”

  A friend? No. More like a rival. Truth was, I didn’t particularly know her other than where she stood in our classes. “No. But somehow it brought it all back.”

  “The explosion at the hall?”

  “That, and the Beast we killed.”

  “Yes, I thought you were taking that a little too well. I threw up for days the first time I killed somebody.” She smiled an odd smile. “If that makes you feel any better.”

  “A little.”

  “The memories get a little easier. Over time.”

  I shivered. If anyone would know about that, Lily would. I didn’t know exactly how many deaths she’d caused when she was Lucius’ assassin, but the number wasn’t trivial.

  “I’ll be all right,” I said.

  “I know,” Lily said. “You’re strong. Like your brothers.”

  I threw the towels into the tall, narrow basket that stood at the side of the basin. “I’m starting to think they were right. It would be better to stay out of it.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to do.”

  That was the truth. “How did you know where I was?”

  “I was coming to find you.” Her clear gray eyes looked sad for a moment.

  A chill ran up my spine and my stomach moved uneasily again. “Has something happened?”

  “Yes. The Fae have summoned the delegates back. They will be at the hall at sunset.”

  FEN

  * * *

  The missive from the Fae turned out to be something of an overstatement. When we arrived at the Treaty Hall a few minutes before sunset, having hastily made our way there with the rest of the delegation, everyone rumpled and not looking half as impressive as we had yesterday but still garbed correctly, we weren’t greeted by the sight of the full Fae delegation.

  No, instead a lone Fae man waited for us, clothed in black and holding the reins of a black horse whose ornate black tack glittered darkly in the twilight. Standing before the soot-stained white marble of the hall, they made an ominous picture. The golden light from the setting sun glowed behind them, somehow making them even more unsettling.

  Hardly a promising sight. The Fae wore black gloves, which hid any Family ring that might give a hint to his identity, but I’d have bet good money he was either from the queen’s Family or the Speaker’s. Someone high up in the court.

  I looked at Simon. “Any idea who that is?”

  He shook his head.

  The Beasts were also arriving in their packs. Once the sun slipped below the horizon, no doubt the Blood would arrive too.

  Or would they? Maybe they would be split—some, like Ignatius, wanting to twist this to their own advantage and others, who might want to maintain the treaty, seeking their own path. One thing was certain. The Blood war for power that had been bubbling and simmering since Lord Lucius had died was about to erupt in deadly seriousness. Those who wanted to try for absolute power had to act now or miss their chance.

  If my visions were correct, it would be Ignatius who rose. Lady help the rest of them.

  Lady help the rest of us as well. Lady grant that my sight wasn’t true in the first place.

  We all stayed frozen in place while the light faded, seeming to take an age to finally slink away. True to my hunch, as soon as the sunlight winked out, the Blood began to arrive, not in coaches but coalescing out of the darkness in a way that raised the hairs on the back of the neck and made something very like a Beast Kind growl rumble in the back of my throat.

  The Blood are very fast when they want to be. And they could stay hidden in the shadows . . . not truly incorporeal like a wraith but hard to see if they did not want to be seen. I scanned our surrounding quickly. How many of them might be hidden on rooftops or in the alleys and buildings surrounding the square? Ignatius might be planning a massacre.

  I forced the thought away. I hadn’t seen such a thing and I had to hope that Ignatius wasn’t bold enough to act just yet, not until the Fae had given some indication that the negotiations might fail. If he acted before that, he would be the one to have broken the treaty, not the Blood. Which would open him up to retribution.

  He was too smart for that. He wouldn’t move until he was certain of his advantage. He’d worked hard to manufacture this situation—it had to be him. I knew it in my bones, but of course there was no proof. And never would be unless someone got the opportunity to force the truth from him or the Fae let the human mages into the Treaty Hall to examine the evidence left behind by the explosion.

  But the arrival of the Blood seemed to satisfy the waiting Fae representative. He summoned a ball of pale light that hovered over his shoulder, providing more illumination than the gaslights that had survived the explosion.

  “Are the delegates all present?” The Fae asked. His voice didn’t sound loud but at the same time managed to seem as though he was speaking right beside my ear. The effect did nothing to ease my disquiet.

  This wasn’t going to be a good announcement. My instincts shrieked at me, but I had to follow the lead of the delegation around me. No one was speaking.

  “Are the delegates present?” he repeated.

  Ignatius stepped forward then. “All the Blood still living are here.”

  One by one the delegation leaders from the humans and the Beasts stepped forward to speak as well. Several of the alphas reported deaths but said that their delegates had been replaced, awaiting a renewed naming ceremony. The Templars had a couple of delegates who bore bandages and bruises, but we were all here. The mages also reported replacing delegates where needed. I noticed that Saskia flinched slightly when the Master of the Metalmages spoke several names. Was she regretting her choice now?

  Was she wondering if they would take her back when all this was done?

  Then Barnabas Stoke, head of the human council, stepped forward. I was expecting him to announce that they were missing a member but instead he too reported a replacement delegate to step into the dead councilor’s shoes.

  It didn’t really matter. What mattered was what our Fae friend was about to say.

  He began to speak. “I bear a message from my queen, Ruler of the Veiled World, protector of Summerdale, and Keeper of the Peace between the races.”

  The atmosphere thickened as he paused and looked around the square. Bloody Fae. Always putting on a show. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one longing to shout “Just get on with it” as his silence stretched longer still.

  “Her Majesty has declared that she will not return to these negotiations until the killer of her most honored and beloved Speaker is brought to justice.”

  Another long pause, this one broken by the soft hum of whispered comments. Was he about to announce that the Fae knew who that killer was? Was someone about to be dragged from out of our midst and carried off to Summerdale for retribution?

  Lady, let it be Ignatius if that i
s so. I could think of nothing better. But common sense told me that if the queen knew who the killer was, he would likely already be dead and we would be seeing some Fae-conjured images of exactly how painfully he had died. And the queen would be meting out punishments on the killer’s race that would probably mostly obliterate their privileges under the treaties. If they had any sense they wouldn’t argue with her. The Fae queen would hardly have to lift a finger to annihilate them. She had the whole power of the Veiled Court to draw on, after all.

  For not the first time, I was very glad that I’d stayed clear of the Veiled World. As uncertain as things were in the City right now, being in Summerdale had to be like trying to walk on a spiderweb suspended over a deep abyss lined with poisoned razor blades. Anyone with any sense would be laying very low.

  The whole square was silent as everyone stared at the man in black. Unsurprisingly, no one stepped forward to claim responsibility for the destruction at the hall.

  “Very well,” the Fae said after an almost unbearable length of time. “If no one will confess to this crime, then it is up to all of you to bring the guilty party to light. You have one week.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  SASKIA

  The uproar as the Fae stopped talking was nearly deafening.

  Finally Guy stepped forward and bellowed for silence. It didn’t work. But Liam’s moving up beside him, raising his sword, and setting it alight did. Uneasy silence rippled over the square like a fog.

  Liam nodded once, then let the flames go out.

  The leader of the human council, Barnabas Stoke, stepped forward. “This is not acceptable.”

  The Fae didn’t blink. “There will be no debate. The queen has spoken.”

  “The humans have done nothing to act against the queen or the Fae.”

  There was no more expression on the Fae’s face than there would have been on a statue. He was as shuttered and remote as a glacier. “My queen has yet to determine the guilty party.”