The Iron Warrior
Page 9
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“If these terms are not met,” Keirran went on, “the Lady will declare war on the Nevernever, and she will descend on the courts with her army of Forgotten, to take back what has been stolen, and to restore Faery to what it was.”
A brittle silence fell over the room, broken only by the frantic thud of my pulse in my ears. Meghan stared at Keirran, and the look on her face made my insides hurt. It was one of complete devastation, shock and denial, and it made me want to smash the prince’s head through the wall. The Iron Queen gazed at her son like she didn’t know him anymore, like the person standing before her was a stranger.
Then Mab’s laughter rang out, harsh and mocking, making me jump. “You dare, Iron Prince?” she hissed, as the temperature in the room dropped. As if it wasn’t cold enough. “You dare stand with this Lady, this forgotten pretender, and demand that I give up my kingdom? Annul the Winter Court? Blasphemy!” She spat the word at him, and icicles made sharp crinkling sounds as they grew from the walls and floor. “You can tell the Lady that the Winter Court will never bow to usurpers, that she can expect to face the full might of Tir Na Nog on the field of battle.”
“And the full might of Arcadia,” Oberon chimed in, his own voice making the icicles tremble. “The Summer Court stands with Winter in rejecting your Lady’s claims. If she wants the Seelie Court destroyed, she will have to take it herself.”
Silence fell once more. Keirran regarded us all without emotion, then looked to Meghan. “And you, Iron Queen?” he asked, when the silence had stretched to a breaking point. “What is your answer?”
“Keirran.” A lump caught in my throat at the sound of Meghan’s voice, broken and desperate. Almost immediately, however, the queen straightened, regaining her composure and standing with her back tall as she faced the Iron Prince. “Why are you doing this?” she asked in a quiet, yet calm voice. “What can you possibly hope to gain?”
“Nothing.” Keirran’s answer was completely without emotion. “It’s not for me,” he continued in that same steely tone. “This is for the exiles, and the Forgotten. For too long, they have been ignored. For too long, the exiles have suffered the cruelty of the human world, and the courts have done nothing. It is time to change that, even if I must clear away the old to make room for the new.”
“This is not your responsibility, Keirran,” came Ash’s voice, deep and controlled, though I could hear the bridled fury beneath. “There are other ways for the Forgotten and the exiles to live. Stop this madness and come home.”
For the briefest of moments, a tiny, agonized furrow creased Keirran’s brow. But the Iron Prince blinked, and it was gone. “I’ve made my choice,” he said serenely. “I cannot turn from it now.” His cold gaze went to Meghan and narrowed. “It seems I was prophesied to bring destruction to the courts, long before I was born,” he said, making her flinch. “Everyone knew of this. Everyone, except myself. I am only walking the path that has been destined for me all along.”
“Dammit, Keirran,” I snarled, unable to hold back any longer. “You know that isn’t true. Get your head out of your ass and wake up!”
He gave me a frigid smile. “You’re very loud for a ghost,” he remarked, making me want to step forward and drive a fist through his teeth. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you lived. You’re too stubborn to stay down for good.” His smile faded then, as his eyes glittered with icy malice. “I am glad that you survived after all, Ethan, but know this. If you get in my way, if you try to stop us, I will kill you. And this time, I’ll make certain that you stay dead and gone.”
I clenched my fists, but Meghan’s voice rose up before I could do anything. The Iron Queen’s power filled the chamber, sharp and crackling, like the air before a storm. “If you do this, Keirran,” she said, “if you declare war on all of Faery, I will have no choice but to cast you from the Iron Court. You will no longer be welcome, or safe, in Mag Tuiredh, or anywhere in the Nevernever. So, please...” She wavered, very slightly, though her voice remained strong. “Think of what you are doing. There’s still time, to stop this, to find another way.”
Keirran gazed at her, a faint, sad smile crossing his face, before his eyes hardened and he took a step back. “It’s too late for me, Iron Queen,” he whispered as the knights closed in, surrounding him. “The prophecy has been set in motion, and I must follow it to the end. I will return to the Lady and inform her of your decision.”
“Really?” Puck had pushed himself off the wall, his green eyes glittering with a dangerous light. “And what makes you think we’re going to let you walk out, princeling?” he asked, smirking in a way that made my skin prickle with fear.
Keirran didn’t move, though the Forgotten knights stiffened, hands dropping to their sword hilts. “I came here in good faith,” the Iron Prince said calmly, looking not at Puck but at the other rulers. “According to ancient Faery law, a messenger of war may deliver his news without fear of repercussion. I have presented my Lady’s demands, and I have harmed no one while I was here. You must honor tradition and let me go, or the Nevernever itself will rise against you.”
I glanced at the table, wondering if this was bullshit, but the grim looks on everyone’s faces told me it was not.
“Go, then,” Mab said, her voice icy. “Return to your Lady. Tell her that the courts will not bow. We will not submit to her, or the Forgotten. If she rises against us, we will send her and all her followers back to the oblivion from whence they came.”
Keirran bowed. “As you wish,” he murmured, with one final glance at the rulers of Mag Tuiredh. There might’ve been a hint of regret in his eyes, or I might’ve imagined it. “When next we meet, it will be on the field.”
And then, he turned and walked away, the knights flanking him once more. No one stopped them. No one said anything as the Iron Prince slipped into the hall without looking back, and the doors creaked shut behind him.
“It seems,” Oberon’s voice echoed into the deathly stillness that followed, “that the Iron Prince has made his choice.” His tone didn’t change, though you could practically hear the barb, pointed and accusing, as he glanced at Meghan across the table. “What is yours, Iron Queen?”
Meghan closed her eyes. Her back was turned to the other rulers, but I saw a tear slip down her face. Chilled, I looked at Ash, saw the grim resignation in his eyes, and wanted to kill Keirran for what he had done.
“I have no choice,” Meghan whispered. Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath, her voice growing stronger, though the heart-wrenching pain on her face never disappeared. “I hereby declare Prince Keirran a traitor to Faery,” she announced in clear, firm tones, “and exile him from the Iron Court. He is no longer under the protection of Mag Tuiredh, and all titles and privileges of rank have been stripped. Let this be made known to all—Keirran is now the enemy of Mag Tuiredh, the Iron Court and the Nevernever.”
* * *
The ride back to Mag Tuiredh was tense. Glitch didn’t say anything, though the strands in his hair snapped and flared an angry red, filling the air with a furious buzzing energy. He glowered out the window, surrounded by a miniature lightning storm, his eyes distant and dark. I sat as far away as I could get in the corner.
A brittle silence fell over the room, broken only by the frantic thud of my pulse in my ears. Meghan stared at Keirran, and the look on her face made my insides hurt. It was one of complete devastation, shock and denial, and it made me want to smash the prince’s head through the wall. The Iron Queen gazed at her son like she didn’t know him anymore, like the person standing before her was a stranger.
Then Mab’s laughter rang out, harsh and mocking, making me jump. “You dare, Iron Prince?” she hissed, as the temperature in the room dropped. As if it wasn’t cold enough. “You dare stand with this Lady, this forgotten pretender, and demand that I give up my kingdom? Annul the Winter Court? Blasphemy!” She spat the word at him, and icicles made sharp crinkling sounds as they grew from the walls and floor. “You can tell the Lady that the Winter Court will never bow to usurpers, that she can expect to face the full might of Tir Na Nog on the field of battle.”
“And the full might of Arcadia,” Oberon chimed in, his own voice making the icicles tremble. “The Summer Court stands with Winter in rejecting your Lady’s claims. If she wants the Seelie Court destroyed, she will have to take it herself.”
Silence fell once more. Keirran regarded us all without emotion, then looked to Meghan. “And you, Iron Queen?” he asked, when the silence had stretched to a breaking point. “What is your answer?”
“Keirran.” A lump caught in my throat at the sound of Meghan’s voice, broken and desperate. Almost immediately, however, the queen straightened, regaining her composure and standing with her back tall as she faced the Iron Prince. “Why are you doing this?” she asked in a quiet, yet calm voice. “What can you possibly hope to gain?”
“Nothing.” Keirran’s answer was completely without emotion. “It’s not for me,” he continued in that same steely tone. “This is for the exiles, and the Forgotten. For too long, they have been ignored. For too long, the exiles have suffered the cruelty of the human world, and the courts have done nothing. It is time to change that, even if I must clear away the old to make room for the new.”
“This is not your responsibility, Keirran,” came Ash’s voice, deep and controlled, though I could hear the bridled fury beneath. “There are other ways for the Forgotten and the exiles to live. Stop this madness and come home.”
For the briefest of moments, a tiny, agonized furrow creased Keirran’s brow. But the Iron Prince blinked, and it was gone. “I’ve made my choice,” he said serenely. “I cannot turn from it now.” His cold gaze went to Meghan and narrowed. “It seems I was prophesied to bring destruction to the courts, long before I was born,” he said, making her flinch. “Everyone knew of this. Everyone, except myself. I am only walking the path that has been destined for me all along.”
“Dammit, Keirran,” I snarled, unable to hold back any longer. “You know that isn’t true. Get your head out of your ass and wake up!”
He gave me a frigid smile. “You’re very loud for a ghost,” he remarked, making me want to step forward and drive a fist through his teeth. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you lived. You’re too stubborn to stay down for good.” His smile faded then, as his eyes glittered with icy malice. “I am glad that you survived after all, Ethan, but know this. If you get in my way, if you try to stop us, I will kill you. And this time, I’ll make certain that you stay dead and gone.”
I clenched my fists, but Meghan’s voice rose up before I could do anything. The Iron Queen’s power filled the chamber, sharp and crackling, like the air before a storm. “If you do this, Keirran,” she said, “if you declare war on all of Faery, I will have no choice but to cast you from the Iron Court. You will no longer be welcome, or safe, in Mag Tuiredh, or anywhere in the Nevernever. So, please...” She wavered, very slightly, though her voice remained strong. “Think of what you are doing. There’s still time, to stop this, to find another way.”
Keirran gazed at her, a faint, sad smile crossing his face, before his eyes hardened and he took a step back. “It’s too late for me, Iron Queen,” he whispered as the knights closed in, surrounding him. “The prophecy has been set in motion, and I must follow it to the end. I will return to the Lady and inform her of your decision.”
“Really?” Puck had pushed himself off the wall, his green eyes glittering with a dangerous light. “And what makes you think we’re going to let you walk out, princeling?” he asked, smirking in a way that made my skin prickle with fear.
Keirran didn’t move, though the Forgotten knights stiffened, hands dropping to their sword hilts. “I came here in good faith,” the Iron Prince said calmly, looking not at Puck but at the other rulers. “According to ancient Faery law, a messenger of war may deliver his news without fear of repercussion. I have presented my Lady’s demands, and I have harmed no one while I was here. You must honor tradition and let me go, or the Nevernever itself will rise against you.”
I glanced at the table, wondering if this was bullshit, but the grim looks on everyone’s faces told me it was not.
“Go, then,” Mab said, her voice icy. “Return to your Lady. Tell her that the courts will not bow. We will not submit to her, or the Forgotten. If she rises against us, we will send her and all her followers back to the oblivion from whence they came.”
Keirran bowed. “As you wish,” he murmured, with one final glance at the rulers of Mag Tuiredh. There might’ve been a hint of regret in his eyes, or I might’ve imagined it. “When next we meet, it will be on the field.”
And then, he turned and walked away, the knights flanking him once more. No one stopped them. No one said anything as the Iron Prince slipped into the hall without looking back, and the doors creaked shut behind him.
“It seems,” Oberon’s voice echoed into the deathly stillness that followed, “that the Iron Prince has made his choice.” His tone didn’t change, though you could practically hear the barb, pointed and accusing, as he glanced at Meghan across the table. “What is yours, Iron Queen?”
Meghan closed her eyes. Her back was turned to the other rulers, but I saw a tear slip down her face. Chilled, I looked at Ash, saw the grim resignation in his eyes, and wanted to kill Keirran for what he had done.
“I have no choice,” Meghan whispered. Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath, her voice growing stronger, though the heart-wrenching pain on her face never disappeared. “I hereby declare Prince Keirran a traitor to Faery,” she announced in clear, firm tones, “and exile him from the Iron Court. He is no longer under the protection of Mag Tuiredh, and all titles and privileges of rank have been stripped. Let this be made known to all—Keirran is now the enemy of Mag Tuiredh, the Iron Court and the Nevernever.”
* * *
The ride back to Mag Tuiredh was tense. Glitch didn’t say anything, though the strands in his hair snapped and flared an angry red, filling the air with a furious buzzing energy. He glowered out the window, surrounded by a miniature lightning storm, his eyes distant and dark. I sat as far away as I could get in the corner.
