by Julie Kagawa
I slid open the doors of one car and stepped into the next, which was just as crowded as the first. More faeries looked up from their seats, their attention turning curious and predatory as soon as Nyx stepped through the door.
I kept the vicious smile on my face, my gaze hard and challenging as we continued down the aisle. Go ahead and try something, it said. Give me a reason to cut loose.
As we neared the back of the second car, a large faery slid out of a booth, stepping into the aisle to block our path. He was enormous and muscular, with steely tendons underneath his dark skin and shoulders that filled his leather jacket. Thick dreadlocks hung around his shoulders like a mane, but they were made of twisted cables instead of hair. His eyes were hidden behind reflective sunglasses, but I could feel an intense, searing gaze settle on me.
I stopped and smirked up at him. “Oh hi,” I greeted, feeling Summer glamour surge to my fingertips. “You wouldn’t want to get out of the way, would you?”
“Robin Goodfellow.” The faery’s voice was deep, making the ground rumble under my hooves. “Don’t you recognize me?”
“Um...” I hesitated. I did know of one faery that reminded me of this behemoth. But he was dead, having sacrificed himself to save Meghan in the war with the false king. Though they looked similar, this certainly wasn’t him. “Can’t say that I do. Have we met before?”
The faery sighed, and a jet of steam shot from his nostrils, coiling into the air. He took off his shades to regard me with eyes as red as burning embers. “Coaleater,” he said, and my brain finally gave a jolt of recognition. “We met on the Obsidian Plains, in the war with the false king. My herd and I carried the Iron Queen and her comrades into battle. I was wearing a different form at that time.”
“Oh right.” I snapped my fingers. “I remember. You were much horsier then.”
He gave a very equine snort, releasing another curl of smoke into the air over our heads. “I was wondering what the commotion was about,” he stated, gazing around at the train car of restless fey, still watching us with curious, hungry eyes. “Of course it would be you, Goodfellow. What trouble are you causing this time?”
“Hey, this is not my fault.” I held up a finger. “I was perfectly happy to have a nice, peaceful ride to Mag Tuiredh.” I glanced back at Nyx, my jaw tightening at how pale she looked, her eyes glazed with discomfort but trying not to show it. “But my friend isn’t feeling the greatest, and some of the passengers here thought that was an invitation to be assholes. I’m trying to get her to a quiet spot, away from the sharp teeth.”
“Hmm.” The Iron faery’s crimson gaze went to Nyx, assessing. “You are aware that she is a Forgotten,” he stated in a not-a-question voice.
“Really?” I gasped, one hand going to my heart. “You don’t say. You mean she was a Forgotten this whole time? Well, don’t I feel silly.” He snorted again, and I rolled my eyes. “So, now that we’ve established the obvious, maybe you could move so that I can interrogate this devious Forgotten in a nice, safe, quiet spot?”
Coaleater grunted, turning his huge body aside for us to pass. “Take the booth in the corner,” he said, eyeing the faeries hovering behind us. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you. On one condition, Goodfellow.” He raised a meaty finger of his own. “When we get to the capital, you tell me what’s going on, why you’re really here. Deal?”
Normally, the word deal would raise all kinds of red flags. I avoided making deals or bargains, unless I was really, really sure I wasn’t being screwed over. But the Iron horses had a reputation for being righteous and honorable, upholding the values of their progenitor, Ironhorse, who happened to be a friend of mine before his noble sacrifice. Besides, having Rusty 2.0 take care of our little predator problem was a blessing in disguise. He would get the gnomes off our backs, and I wouldn’t have to turn this train inside out before we got to the capital.
“Deal,” I agreed, and the Iron faery nodded. Stepping back, he waited for us to pass, then planted himself in the center of the aisle, crossing his arms and glowering at the gnome trio. I retreated to the booth with Nyx, and she slumped to one of the seats, covering her eyes as if the room was far too bright.
“Nyx.” I sat in front of her, taking one pale hand. It was cold to the touch, and I squeezed it worriedly. “Hey. Talk to me. You okay?”
The Forgotten gave a weary nod. “As well as can be expected,” she said in a near whisper. Dropping her arm, she opened her eyes as a shudder went through her, making her brow furrow. “I remember now. I know what’s happening to me.”
Her faded gold gaze rose to the window, to the sun coming up over the distant mountains. “My kin and I were faeries of the darkness,” she began. “The phases of the moon gave us our strength. When the Lady sent us to kill, that contract would last a single night. One night for our prey to avoid us. To have a chance at living. When the sun came up, we would lose our power, and the contract would end. If the target had survived to see the sunrise, they would be free.” She paused, a haunted look going through her eyes, then shook her head. “In all my years of serving the Lady, that happened only once.”
“So, you can’t go into the sun? Like a vampire?”
“It’s not that it hurts me,” Nyx continued. “And I have no idea what a vampire is. But I get weaker and lose all my glamour when the sun comes up.” She hesitated again, frowning. “Honestly, I don’t exactly know what will happen if I stay in direct sunlight for any length of time. The wyldwood is eternal twilight, and I rarely went into the mortal realm.” Her gaze grew unfocused, and she put one hand against the glass window, her jaw tightening as the light spilled over her fingers. “Maybe it will burn me to dust. Or I could just Fade to nothing.” Her voice dropped, becoming nearly inaudible, though it still sent an icy lance through my middle. “I don’t belong here, anyway,” she murmured. “Maybe that would be for the best.”
“Nope, that’s not going to happen,” I told her, making her blink. “If it comes to that, I’ll make you a flipping parasol to keep the sun off. You’re not allowed to Fade away on me, here or anytime in the future, got it?”
She blinked, and I gave her a fierce smile, continuing to hold her hand in both of mine.
“I knew someone like you, once,” I went on, wondering why I was telling her this. “Had a troubled past, didn’t think much of himself, thought that no one would miss him if he was ever gone. But he was wrong. Even in Faery, there were those who would miss him, whose lives he had changed. And if you think I’m going to let you poof into nothingness without a fight, then you don’t know me very well.”
Nyx held my gaze for a heart-pounding moment. Then, without warning, she leaned down, and her cool lips were pressed against mine.
I stiffened in shock, but only for a second. Turns out, I’d wanted this for a while. I just didn’t think Nyx would be the one to initiate anything. Closing my eyes, I kissed her back, feeling the pit of my stomach twist itself into a pretzel knot.
It didn’t last long. I’d rather it had continued until we pulled into the station at Mag Tuiredh, but Nyx drew back slightly, leaving me reeling on the floor of the train. Opening my eyes, I met her gaze, watching as one corner of her lip pulled up in a half smile.
“Don’t read too much into it,” she warned softly. “I just wanted to... I’m grateful, that’s all. For everything you’ve done to get me here.”
“So, that was just a thank-you without saying thank you?”
She winced. That phrase, even those words, was rather taboo among the fey. Saying thank you in Faery was the same as putting yourself into that person’s debt. But being around humans, who used that phrase liberally, for so long had sort of deadened my reaction to it. Reaching up, I tangled my fingers in her long silver hair, smiling. “You’re welcome,” I told her. “And if you ever get the urge to thank me again, I am always willing to listen.”
“Don’t get cocky, Goodfe
llow.” Nyx rose, pulling her hood up. “And don’t think you’re safe. The sun sets in just a few hours.”
I pushed myself upright and realized that, except for Coaleater still standing in the center of the aisle with his arms crossed, we were now alone in the car. The rest of the crowd, probably under the not-so-subtle glare of the huge Iron faery, had vacated the area. I could see a few of them peeking through the door to the adjacent car, but they weren’t coming any closer. Coaleater, standing rigid with his back to us, gave a snort, a fleeting cloud of steam writhing around his head.
“Are you two quite finished?”
I couldn’t be positive, but Nyx might’ve blushed in the shadow of her hood. I gave a wide grin and laced my hands behind my skull.
“Jealous, tin can?” I drawled. “What’s the rush, anyway? It’s not like we can get to the capital any faster.”
“No,” Coaleater agreed, turning around. “But we are approaching a rather significant landmark in the Iron Realm. As someone who fought the original Iron King, the very first of his name, I thought you might want to see it.”
“Aw, are you playing tour guide, Rusty? That’s so nice of you. Do you have any brochures?”
Coaleater ignored my comment. His attention was suddenly riveted to the window, to something beyond the glass. The Iron fey had removed his glasses, and the look in his burning red eyes was one of solemn respect. I followed his gaze and immediately shut up.
Across a flat, dusty plain, a tower sat in the center of the plateau, jagged metal walls catching the light of the sun. Most of the tower lay in ruins, shattered and broken around the roots and trunk of an enormous tree that soared into the air, rising above the crumbling walls to brush the sky. The tree itself, a massive oak with enormous, gnarled branches and broad leaves, glimmered and flashed in the sun, as if it was made of liquid metal. Even after all these years, it still caused a shiver to run down my spine.
Nyx gazed out the window as well, drawing in a quiet breath as she observed the ruins and the giant tree. “That is a place of power,” she said softly. “I can feel it from here.”
Coaleater said nothing, his silence one of somber reverence, so she turned to me.
“What is it?” she asked in a whisper.
“Machina’s tower,” I muttered, as memories from a darker age came back to me. “Where it all began.”
11
MAG TUIREDH
Mag Tuiredh was just as wacky as I remembered. And I’ve seen some pretty bizarre things. The wyldwood is ever changing, but in the Summer and Winter courts at least, things were odd but expected. For example, you can expect Tir Na Nog to be cold enough to freeze your chin hairs off, and for the Summer Court to be full of frolicking Seelie fey that will either turn you into a rosebush or dance you into an early grave. Pretty standard, really. After so many years of visiting both territories, not much surprised me anymore.
The capital of the Iron Realm could still cause a shiver of anticipation to run up my spine.
It was a massive city that was a blend of old and new, medieval and modern. Or maybe medieval and steampunk would be a better description. Cobblestone roads lined with lampposts ran alongside buildings that were a hodgepodge of every building material you could think of. Stone and brick huts sat next to buildings straight out of a Victorian steampunk novel, with copper pipes and weather vanes sticking haphazardly out of the roof. Iron fey crowded the streets and sidewalks, on foot or in carriages, and you couldn’t walk ten feet without seeing a gremlin, the tiny, bat-eared nuisances of the fey world, hanging on a wall or perched on a lamppost.
“So,” Coaleater commented as the train began to slow, huffing and shedding steam. “Now that we’ve arrived in Mag Tuiredh, you going to tell me why you’re here, Goodfellow?”
I shrugged. “Eventually. That was part of the deal, after all. Only...” I grinned up at him. “You didn’t say exactly when I had to tell you. Now, later, ten years from now?” Lacing my hands behind my head, I smirked. “Gotta watch those word choices, my friend. Someone with less scruples than me could really screw you over.”
He glowered. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to play word games with oldbloods,” he growled. “You were one of the queen’s closest companions in the war, you and the Winter prince. We fought on the same side, and the queen’s lieutenant spoke of you highly.” He sniffed, raising his head to peer down with a haughty look. “I thought Robin Goodfellow was the honorable sort, that he would not stoop to conniving faery loopholes like a scheming phouka.”
“Oh, chill out, Rusty.” I raised both hands. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t tell you. It’s just a rather sensitive subject, and I wouldn’t want some eavesdropping gremlin spreading rumors through the city.” I jerked my head to the great castle looming over everything. “You want the details? Come with us to the palace. You can hear the whole story then.”
He blew out a long, exasperated whicker in a cloud of steam. “Very well,” he rumbled. “I was going to seek an audience with the Iron Queen, anyway. I suppose we will go to the palace together.”
Nyx, staring out the window at the glittering city and the crowds of Iron fey milling through it, took a deep breath as if steeling herself for what was to come.
I glanced at her worriedly. “You gonna be all right?”
She nodded, one hand going to the amulet beneath her cloak. “Here’s hoping I don’t turn into mist or burst into flames.”
I reached down and took her other hand, squeezing once. “Just stick close to me and the tin can. Anyone gives you more than a funny look, I’ll put a badger down their pants.”
The crowds of fey parted for Coaleater as he stepped from the train car onto the cobblestone streets of Mag Tuiredh. Just his size was enough to send most stumbling back a few paces. He really did remind me a lot of Ironhorse. A quieter, less socially awkward Ironhorse. The original leader of the herd was big, clompy, and had a voice like a tuba being played through a megaphone three inches from your ear. But he had that same noble attitude, that same proud, almost overbearing gallantry. I guessed most, if not all, of the Iron horses were like their progenitor in that respect.
“Hmph.” Coaleater snorted a puff of smoke as he looked around, his gaze landing on the distant palace just visible over the city roofs. “It has been a while since I have been to Mag Tuiredh,” he murmured. Which was another difference. Ironhorse couldn’t murmur if his life depended on it. Everything he had said was a bellow. “It’s so crowded here,” Coaleater went on, raising an arm as a small, rodent-like faery ducked around him and vanished down an alley. “How do fey live with the buildings right on top of them? I much prefer the openness of the Obsidian Plains.” He shook his head, then turned back to us, narrowing his burning eyes. “Your Forgotten isn’t casting a shadow, Goodfellow,” Coaleater observed. “That is most likely not a good thing.”
Alarmed, I glanced at Nyx and saw he was right. She stood silently in her cloak and hood, the sunlight beating down on her between buildings. I could see my shadow on the ground, right next to Coaleater’s massive one, but the road under Nyx was empty. As if the light was going right through her.
“Dammit,” I growled. “She needs to get out of the sun. We need to get to the palace quickly. Dammit again, that means I’m probably going to have to ride in one of the creepy spider carriages.”
Coaleater sighed, wreathing us all in smoke. “Wait here,” he ordered, taking a step back. “I will return momentarily. Don’t go anywhere without me.” He turned, ducked into the mouth of the alley behind us, and vanished behind the falling curtains of steam.
Nyx shivered, then slid down the wall until she was sitting against the building, knees drawn to her chest and hood covering her face. Trying not to be overbearing, I stepped in front of her, shielding her from the sunlight with my own body, trying to bring her some relief. A soft, rueful chuckle came from beneath the cowl, though she didn�
��t raise her head.
“Who would have thought,” she murmured, “the iron wouldn’t be the thing that killed me in the Iron Realm.” She sighed, and there was the gleam of a golden eye beneath the shadows of the hood. “It appears I won’t be going to see the Summer Court with you after all, Goodfellow.”
“Eh, it’s not the most exciting place in the world.” I crouched down next to her, putting a hand on her arm just to assure myself that she was still there. “We’ll go to Tir Na Nog instead. How do you feel about ice wyrms and blizzards and snow up to the inside of your nostrils?”
“Sounds cold.” Nyx blinked at me, a furrow creasing her pale brow. “But isn’t the Winter Court ruled by Mab? Won’t she dislike a Summer faery trespassing into Unseelie territory?”
“And that, my good assassin, is what makes it so enticing.”
A clanking sound interrupted us. I turned just as a huge, black Iron horse walked calmly through the falling steam in front of the alley. Pistons hissed and cylinders spun as the great Iron creature came to a halt a few steps away, looming over us. Burning red eyes peered down at me, and tongues of flame flickered through the gaps and chinks in its belly, making the air around it shimmer. It flicked its tail, iron cables clattering against its hide, and tossed its head with a snort.
“Well?” Coaleater’s voice was impatient. He raised a hoof and pawed the sidewalk, releasing a tiny cloud of sparks. “Are you two going to sit and stare at me, or are you going to get on?”
I winced, remembering the last time I’d ridden on the Iron horse’s back. It had been several years ago, in the battle with the false king, and we had kicked ass, but parts of me were not happy after the battle. And Nyx, in her condition, couldn’t afford to get any weaker. “You know, maybe we should just walk.”