Pulling back, he watched me, those clear silver eyes gleaming brightly in the darkness. “My queen,” he breathed, one hand reaching up to frame my cheek, making my stomach jump and twirl. “I belong to you. No matter what Mab says, no matter how long I’ve been in Tir Na Nog, my life is yours. Nothing will ever make me leave your side.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” I warned him, as my eyes went blurry again and his gorgeous face shifted in the darkness like water. “And Mab is either going to be very happy to see me in tears, or very disgusted with us.” He laughed softly and drew me close, wrapping his arms around me in a fierce, protective way. His heart pounded beneath my fingers, and I felt the lightest brush of his lips against my ear.
“I love you, Meghan,” he whispered, and I gave a tiny, happy sob, hiding my face in his shirt. Ash held me tight, resting his chin atop my head, gazing out the window. “I don’t have to hide anything anymore,” he murmured above me, sounding content and defiant at the same time. “Not from Mab, not from anyone. Let them talk and stare. This Elysium will be very different.”
The carriage jerked and shuddered to a halt at the front gates of the Winter palace. Ash reluctantly let me go as I pulled back, composing myself for the ordeal ahead. The carriage driver hopped down from the seat and opened the door for us, letting in a swirl of chilly wind. Ash exited first, then turned to help me down.
“Ready for this?” I asked him as I stepped out into the cold, snowy courtyard. Icicles hung from everything, and the air was bitingly cold. Oh, yes, lovely Unseelie weather. I remembered this quite well. Glitch and a squad of Iron knights stepped forward, flanking us, ready to follow. Ash nodded, offering his arm, and together we stepped into Mab’s cold, frozen domain.
The first thing I noticed, as we crossed the courtyard full of frozen statues and huge, multicolored crystals, was that it was full of Winter fey. Considering this was the heart of Unseelie territory, that wasn’t surprising, but what made me wary was the fact that they were all staring at us. Sidhe nobles watched us with barely concealed smirks, goblins and redcaps followed us hungrily, though they still kept their distance from the knights, and bogies lurked in the shadows, watching intently as we passed.
Ash’s grip on my arm was tight as we wove our way through the courtyard, ignoring and yet unable to ignore our inhuman audience. As we began climbing the steps into the palace, one of the sidhe nobles, a lanky faery with spiky crystalline hair, gave Ash a mocking salute and murmured a sarcastic “Prince.” Ash didn’t acknowledge him; his face stayed blank. The mask of the Winter prince.
It dawned on me what was happening. They were all here to see the new queen and her supposedly mortal husband. Not to be welcoming or polite; they were testing for weakness, wondering if this new, half-human queen would be easy to manipulate and take apart. And they were also here for Ash, to see if their former ice prince would be weak as a mere mortal. Which would make the queen he served weak, as well.
Oh, that had to end. Here and now. Not only for the future of my kingdom, but if Ash was to have any peace in Tir Na Nog, he was going to have to prove himself to his own people. Prove to everyone that neither the Iron Queen nor her knight—though both had mortal blood—were ever to be underestimated.
“Ash,” I whispered as we neared the top of the steps. “Remember what I said this morning, about not getting into any duels?”
“Yes.”
We’d reached the top of the steps, a few feet away from the open door into the hall, and I pulled him to a stop. Glitch and the knights paused as well, but I motioned for them to keep going. He gave me a worried look, but bowed and went through the arch, stopping on the other side to wait for us.
I turned to my knight, who looked vaguely worried, as well. “I take it back. The mob behind us is itching for trouble. I want you to oblige them.”
Ash blinked. “You want me to start a fight?” he asked in disbelief. “Now?” When I nodded, he frowned, lowering his voice. “Mab and Oberon are expecting both of us,” he said. “It might send the wrong message if you go in alone.”
“I can handle them.” I glanced at the crowd at the bottom of the steps, seeing their wide smirks, their hungry gazes, and felt my resolve grow. “I’m the Iron Queen—I should face the other rulers by myself first. And I want you to send another message, Ash. The Unseelie Court is no doubt wondering if their former prince is as strong as he was. They’re curious to see if a mere mortal can protect himself and his queen in the Winter Court. If there is any doubt, word will spread, and the other courts might see the Iron Court as weak, easy to exploit.” I reached out and squeezed his arm, smiling fiercely. “That doubt ends right here. I want you to make sure that everyone knows that we are not weak, that the Iron Queen’s knight is not someone to cross. Ever.”
Ash’s eyes gleamed, the shadow of an evil grin crossing his face. “As you command, my queen,” he said in a low voice, barely hiding his glee. “I will carry out your wishes. Please send Mab and Oberon my apologies. I will rejoin you as soon as I am able.”
I nodded and went through the door, nodding at Glitch to follow, leaving my knight to turn and face the trailing crowd. I heard the rasp of his ice-blade as it was unsheathed, and the shouts of the mob in the courtyard. Footsteps scuffled over the ground, no doubt Winter fey scrambling to attack…or flee. I felt an icy burst of glamour, probably from Ash, and another yell of utter shock.
“What are you?” something howled, and then there was a crash, and the sound of shattered icicles tinkling to the ground. Laughter rang out, Ash’s laughter, jubilant and defiant, making me pause.
What are you?
A good question. One that I’d asked myself on more then one occasion. Physically, Ash was no different than before; lean and graceful, with the same command of Winter magic and sword skills that made him such a lethal warrior. He was still fierce, loyal, protective and could level an icy glare that could make your insides freeze. In that regard, he hadn’t changed.
And yet, sometimes, he was so different. It would be insane to ever think of Ash as soft, but the frozen shell that had always surrounded the Winter prince was gone. He was…kinder now, able to empathize in ways he couldn’t as a pure Unseelie. There were times when he seemed so human in little, subtle ways I’d never noticed before, that I’d forget he had ever belonged to the Winter Court.
It made me wonder. Was Ash human like me, a mortal with faery glamour and magic left over from his life as a Winter prince? Or was he still fey? A faery…with a human soul?
I didn’t know. And really, I didn’t care. Ash was Ash. You couldn’t put a descriptor on him; there was no one who had done what he had, no other like him in the entire realm of Faery. He was…unique.
Another yell echoed through the door. I continued down the hall with Glitch and the knights as the clamor of battle rang out behind me, followed by howls of pain and dismay. And I smiled to myself. Whatever Ash was, he was the best at what he did. It wouldn’t take him long.
* * *
This year’s Elysium was held in Queen Mab’s ballroom, and the place was already filled with fey. I left Glitch and the knights in the hall just outside the entrance, and an Unseelie herald announced my arrival in clear, high tones: “Her majesty Meghan Chase, monarch of Mag Tuiredh, sovereign of the Iron territories and Queen of the Iron Fey.”
He paused, as if expecting to announce Ash as well, but of course Ash was not with me at the moment. After a heartbeat, the herald nodded,
and I stepped into the room, to the stares of dozens of fey.
A long white table waited at the end of the room, with three figures already seated and two empty spots farther down. Queen Mab, King Oberon and Queen Titania waited for me as I walked across the room, my back straight and my chin held high.
“Meghan Chase.” Mab’s greeting could not exactly be called a welcome. The Unseelie monarch sat in the middle of the table, her long black hair styled elegantly atop her head, pinned in place with icicles. “How fortuitous of you to join us.”
“Queen Mab,” I said politely, and nodded to my father, to her left. “Lord Oberon, Lady Titania.” The Summer Queen pursed her lips and pointedly ignored me, but Oberon gave a solemn bob of his head. Not unfriendly, but not really acknowledging me as a daughter, either. I stifled a sigh. This was going to be a long night.
“Where is Ash?” Mab inquired, her dark gaze flicking to the door behind me. “Has he not come? Is he not anxious to see his old court and kith?” Her voice lowered, turned slightly dangerous. “Has he forgotten us so quickly?”
“No, Queen Mab. Ash is here.” I was quick to reassure her, knowing Mab took insult easily and held grudges forever. “He was…held up…for a few minutes in the courtyard. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“I see.” Mab sat back, apparently mollified. “Good. I wish to hear how Ash is getting along in the poisoned realm.”
I was about to reply that Ash was doing just fine, thank you, when every light in the place—torches, the icicle chandeliers, flickering blue candles in the columns—sputtered and went out.
Snarls and cries of alarm filled the air. Chairs overturned as fey leaped to their feet, drawing weapons and glaring into the shadows. I spun, searching for hidden dangers, for anything stupid or crazy enough to attack during Elysium when the most powerful fey in all the Nevernever were in the very same room.
“Silence!” Mab stood up, her voice booming through the darkness, and instantly everything went completely mute. You could’ve heard a pin drop. “Whoever is responsible for this will soon wish they had never been born,” she rasped into the still darkness. “You will not embarrass me in my own court in the midst of Elysium. Show yourself, now!”
She waved her hand, and lights sprang up again, candles and chandeliers flaring to life. The faeries in the room blinked and cringed and glanced around, wary of attackers and one another.
They didn’t immediately notice the old woman standing in the middle of the room, where nothing had been before. But I spotted her almost at once, and my stomach went cold with dread.
The oracle, ragged, dusty and as brittle as old newspaper, turned the hollow pits of her eyes on me and didn’t look away. I heard Titania’s sharp gasp, just as the other fey discovered the ancient creature standing in their midst and surged away from her like she had a disease. But the oracle’s sightless gaze never wavered, and she seemed to float over the ground like a dusty wraith, until she stood a few yards from me.
“Oracle,” Mab stated in a flat voice. “Why are you here? What is the meaning of this disturbance?”
The oracle ignored the Winter monarch, however, drifting closer to me. “Meghan Chase,” she whispered, and the stench of centuries-old dust filled the air, the smell of a grave or a tomb. “Iron Queen. Do you remember me?”
“What do you want, Oracle?” I stood tall, keeping my voice calm.
“Old Anna brings a warning,” the oracle whispered. “One that has been ignored before. Do you remember what I told you, Meghan Chase? You and your Winter prince. Do you recall what I said would happen?”
A murmur went around the room, and Mab’s glare sharpened; I could feel it searing into the back of my head. Goose bumps prickled over my skin, but I kept my voice firm. “No,” I said, taking a step forward. “You told us a lot of things, and I gave you what I could. I did what I had to do, to save my family. That’s all that was important.”
“You remember,” the oracle insisted. “Do you not? The one thing you refused to give up. That which would cause you nothing but grief. Do you remember now, Meghan Chase?”
For second, I didn’t know what she was talking about.
Then it hit me, and were it not for the hundreds of fey watching, including the rulers of the other courts, I would have fallen as my knees gave out. I remembered her words, so long ago, when I had first come to Faery. I had traded away a memory for her help, but that wasn’t the only thing the oracle had wanted.
“You will not give it up, even though it will bring you nothing but grief?”
“Oh, God,” I whispered, and my hand slipped to my stomach. The nausea, the sudden weakness and fainting spells. It couldn’t be.
“Yes,” the oracle whispered, and raised a withered hand, pointing at me. “You know of what I speak. And you have a decision to make, Iron Queen. What you carry will either unite the courts, or it will destroy them. I have seen it. I know one of these will come to pass.”
“No,” I said in a shaky voice. No one in the room seemed to hear us now. It was as if we were in our own small world, the oracle and myself, and everything around us had faded into obscurity.
The withered hag watched me with the pitiless holes in her face. “You know I speak the truth, Meghan Chase,” the oracle went on. “You know the great power resting inside you. Power that can destroy, turn everything we know into dust. But all is not lost.” She raised a shriveled claw. “I have a proposition for you. We must speak further, but not here. Not like this.” She drew back, the hollow pits of her eyes never leaving my face. “Time is of the essence. Find me. You have friends who will show you the way. I will be awaiting you, and your decision.”
A sudden wind rushed through the ballroom, resnuffing candles and causing a few chandeliers to crash to the ground in a ringing cacophony. Fey jumped and howled, and by the time Mab restored order and reignited the lights again, the oracle was gone.
Chapter Three
“Explain yourself, Iron Queen!”
Shivering, I turned to face the Unseelie monarch, on her feet and glaring at me over the table. Mab’s eyes glittered with distrust, and Oberon didn’t look very reassuring, either. Titania, of course, was staring at me like she was hoping my head would explode.
But they were the least of my worries, now. The oracle’s words rang through my head, over and over again, staggering me with the implications.
You know the great power resting inside you.
What you carry will either unite the courts, or it will destroy them.
You have a decision to make, Iron Queen. Find me.
“I have to go.”
That wasn’t well received. Mab straightened, every inch of her bristling with offense. “You dare, Iron Queen?” she asked in her scary soft voice. “You dare insult me in my own court? In front of my own people?” Her black eyes narrowed, and she leaned across the table, coating the glasses with frost. “You will tell me what is happening, or you will prepare for the wrath of Winter.”
I stared her down. “No, Queen Mab. You will not threaten me or my kingdom for this.” Mab didn’t move, but I could sense her shock; the daughter of Oberon was no longer a cowering little girl. I gestured to the room behind us. “You heard what the oracle said—this affects all the courts, not just my own. I will not adhere to some ridiculous, outdated protocol when my realm could be in danger.”
“The girl is right, Lady Mab,” Oberon said, finally coming to my defense. Better late than never,
I supposed. “A Summons from the oracle cannot be ignored. If she knows something that threatens the stability of the courts, we must be prepared.”
“And what of Ash?” Mab snapped, a bit peevishly now. “I have not seen my son in months. The Iron Queen makes decisions that affects them both. What does Ash think of all this?”
“Ash,” said a cool, deep voice, suddenly at my shoulder, “stands with the decision of his queen.”
I didn’t move, though my heart leaped and I wanted to glance at him in relief. But I kept my gaze on the Unseelie monarch in front of us. “Ash,” Mab said, switching her attention to my knight, standing tall at my side, “you have not been home in months. Do you not care that your queen is breaking the ancient traditions of Elysium? Do you not care that she would pit you against your own court, if it came to war between us?”
I felt a blaze of fury at the Unseelie Queen’s manipulative ways, but Ash’s voice remained calm. “This is not my home any longer,” Ash said in a clear voice, making sure everyone heard him. “And if it came to war, I would be the first on the front lines, defending the Iron Court.”
Mab looked stunned. I took advantage of her silence to bow and step back. “We’ll be taking our leave now,” I told the rulers of Faery, ignoring my pounding heart. Of the three, only Oberon nodded. Titania snorted in disgust, and Mab continued to watch me with her dark, eerie glare. “I apologize for the inconvenience, Queen Mab, but we must return to Mag Tuiredh. Please excuse us.”
And, without waiting for an answer, I turned and left the ballroom with Ash at my side, feeling the Winter Queen’s frosty gaze skewering the back of my neck.