Chapter 22
“What?” I blink at him. This is about the last answer I ever would have expected. “Why?”
“I have an old instructor from there. Magister Cragfoot. He used to tutor me here at court back when my father was still alive. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of different magics, especially the more obscure iterations. I think he’ll have as good an idea as any about how we can take your abilities to the next level.”
“But isn’t it dangerous?” Halima already gave me a stern lecture back when I was trying to find a way to just send a message to someone in the Unseelie Court. Actually going there had seemed completely out of bounds.
“Yes. But isn’t everything? And it’s less risky for a ruler like me. They still have to abide by some rules in peacetime. We’ll go in secret anyway. We don’t need King Lisinder’s court to get wind of our troubles here. There’s too many sharks who’d like to take advantage of our current vulnerability.”
“But…” I search around for an excuse, some reason we don’t have to go walking into a foreign land that everyone says is even more dangerous and ferocious than this one. “Can’t you just get this Cragfoot to come here?”
Ruskin shakes his head. “He’d refuse. After my father died, things became too hostile for any Unseelie to come to this court.”
“Okay, but is it all right for us to leave this court? What happens if the iron comes back and neither one of us is here?”
Ruskin stands up, putting distance between us, and I wonder if he’s disappointed I’m not immediately on board with his plan. Down by the founding stone, he said he wants me to trust him. But he has to know it’s not that easy. He has to earn my trust first…and he’s still got a long way to go.
“There was a significant gap between this attack and the last. And this one was triggered by our visit to the founding stone, I’m sure of it. If we postpone a second attempt, the iron may not return any time soon. Besides, you had to fight harder this time, didn’t you?”
I give a reluctant nod. “I’ve gotten stronger, but whatever is causing the iron has gotten stronger too.”
“Which suggests things will only get worse until we find a way for you to stop the iron eruptions once and for all.”
Just like that, he’s putting the fate of his court in my hands. I feel the weight of it now, made all the heavier by my memories of the miners lying dead in the orchard, of Lady’s Petra’s son, pierced through. What if it’s Destan or Halima who can’t escape the iron next time? How could I ever forgive myself if they got hurt? There is cruelty in this court, but goodness too, and I can’t accept that this must be its fate—curse or not.
“All right,” I say. “I guess we’re going to the Unseelie Court.”
I hate horse riding. At a distance, the huge steeds of the fae are beautiful—majestic. But up here on their back is a different matter. I’m way too far from solid ground for one thing, and after four hours of riding, I’m so damn uncomfortable. I have a sudden yearning for Parsley, Sana’s donkey, and her cart. Even at high speeds they were more comfortable than this.
I shift in my saddle for what feels like the hundredth time, but it’s a lost cause. I’m just repositioning myself from one aching section of my behind to another. I sigh.
“Lean back a little,” Ruskin says, without looking at me. “You don’t need to be so poker straight all the time.”
“Oh, but I do, in case this animal decides it’s spotted something unfriendly in the woods and bolts.”
I peer into the leaves around us. Echoing voices and quiet giggles tell me we’re not truly alone—you never are in the forest—but so far Ruskin’s seemed confident that we’re safe.
And you’re not so vulnerable now, I remind myself. I can wield metal, I’ve had training and the sword I’ve been practicing with is currently firmly fixed to my hip—along with a knife in my boot and some bits and bobs of metal stuffed in my pockets. There’s no sense in not being prepared; I’ve learned that the hard way living in the palace, let alone setting out for more dangerous territory.
Leaving the Seelie Court behind was still harder than I expected, though. Evanthe accepted news of our departure with her usual grace. I don’t know if it will be easier or more difficult for her, keeping up appearances that she’s still High Queen without Ruskin around, but she insisted she was up to the challenge. At first, Destan thought we’d lost our minds when we told him, telling us we wouldn’t come back with our heads. Then he suddenly stopped as a thought seemed to occur to him. By the time we left he was eyeing Ruskin and me in a way I didn’t like, and then bid us goodbye while muttering something under his breath about the benefits of ‘alone time.’ I think my subsequent glare bounced right off him.
Halima on the other hand…
She was furious about our leaving. What made it worse was that her anger was stoic, professional—as if she was disappointed in us as much as she was angry. She waited outside the stables as we saddled up, her expression stormy, but she calmly stood to attention when Ruskin gave out her orders.
“If the situation worsens and you need us to return as soon as possible, send a coded message with a warded crow.”
For all his practice at ignoring other people’s feelings, Ruskin wasn’t fully able to brush off Halima’s. Instead, he clapped her on the back and told her that all this was for the best.
“Nothing is for the best, when a swordswoman isn’t allowed to fulfill her oath,” she bit out.
“I told you, you’re too conspicuous. I’m sorry, Hal.” Ruskin’s eyes were bright with sadness. He didn’t want this bitter parting, I could see that. But Halima was, for once, determined to express herself.
“Who will protect you in enemy territory? Who will protect the court from the curse?” she demanded.
“We don’t even know if there is a curse,” I pointed out.
Halima then turned her stare on me and I couldn’t help but quail. She didn’t say much after that, but watched Ruskin and I leave like she was watching her respect for us disintegrate into dust. It was enough to have me questioning whether leaving the Seelie Kingdom is the right thing to do…but I agreed to Ruskin’s plan, and I can’t back out of it now.
“How long until we get there?” I ask Ruskin, trying to distract myself.
“Nearly two days’ ride. Maybe longer, depending on our welcome committee.”
“Meaning?”
“If we can keep a low profile, avoid run-ins with anyone, then we’ll get to the court in good time.”
“You think that’s likely to happen?”
He looks over his shoulder at me, yellow cat eyes gleaming. We’re not in Unseelie territory yet, but Ruskin already has his more beastly features out. Apparently, with his horns and claws and fangs, he looks like any other Unseelie High Fae. Not that I have much of a point of comparison.
“The Unseelie are quicker to challenge. It’s their way—the fastest path to resolution, according to them.”
I notice the hint of irony in his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe the truth of it.
“Was your father like that?” I ask, wondering if he’ll refuse to answer the question. Every mention of Lucan up to this point has only ever been in passing.
“I don’t remember a lot about him. He died when I was young, but people tell me he was not exactly what the Seelie Court expected when they heard their queen was marrying an Unseelie prince. He didn’t fit the brutal picture of the Unseelie they had. According to my mother he was direct, open, and he didn’t suffer fools gladly. What I’ve heard most about him is that he was devoted to her. They might have married to secure the peace treaty, but they fell in love. I think my father would have done anything for her—would’ve turned his back on the Unseelie altogether if she’d asked him. As it was, I think he curbed a lot of his Unseelie tendencies while living at the Seelie Court.”
“Do you mind me asking how he died?”
No one’s actually gone into detail, but Ruskin seems open to talking about things for once, so I take my chance.
“They say it was a hunting accident. That he was mauled by a pack of wolves in the Emerald Forest.”
I have seen the wolves that roam these woods and they’re certainly ferocious. I can easily imagine falling victim to their powerful jaws and sharp teeth…but that’s me,a puny human. I don’t have the physical strength or speed of a fae, and my magic is nothing compared to what a prince would know how to wield. A wolf pack probably could kill a fae if they could surround him, somehow stop him from fighting back. But would that be possible from a pack of wild animals without outside help? Accidents happen, of course. And bad luck. But sabotage and betrayal happen, too. I didn’t miss the way Ruskin described the event: ‘They say’—as if that might not be what really happened.
I know that things grew frosty once more between the courts after Lucan died. Now I wonder if this was why. Did some people suspect foul play? Ruskin seems to think so. I remember an illusion of Lucan appearing to us in Cebba’s labyrinth, conjured up from Ruskin’s mind. It spoke of Ruskin avenging him. But when Ruskin doesn’t elaborate, I decide I don’t want to push him. The memory must be painful enough, so I steer the conversation in a different direction instead.
“And you never saw your father’s side of the family after that?”
“There were a few official events in the beginning. I remember seeing my uncle at those, King Lisinder. But they tapered off with time.”
I wonder what it’s like, growing up only ever knowing one side of you. I have a whole village who loved Mom and can help me feel connected to her, but Ruskin never had that. From what I’ve seen, he uses his Unseelie heritage more as a tool than anything else. Something to scare and intimidate humans and Seelie alike. Otherwise, he likes to keep it under wraps—Halima told me as much herself. The one time I saw him give in to that side…
My body wakens at the memory of the night of the Harvest Moon. The first time he kissed me. The first time he really touched me. For that one night, he liberated that part of himself and it pushed us both into uncharted territory. It was raw and sharp-edged and wonderful.
Because of times like that night I don’t—can’t—think of Ruskin’s Unseelie side as a bad thing. I also don’t believe it’s specifically his father’s blood that nurtures the side of him I don’t like—his deadly anger, his high walls, and the instinct that has him putting what’s practical over what’s merciful. I’ve seen all of those traits at play in the Seelie Court. Still, I sense he isn’t entirely comfortable with the Unseelie part of his blood. I think he sees it as something to be controlled rather than accepted.
And despite all that, I love him.
No matter how much I pick at his strengths and weaknesses, that fact doesn’t change. I can’t talk myself out of loving him any more than I can talk myself out of breathing. The way I feel has even been confirmed by fate. More and more I think the naminai bond must be there—hovering between us. The pull I feel towards him is too strong—feels too inevitable.
Our horses trot on in the dappled light filtering between the trees. We’re silent, taking in the rustling and whispering of the forest around us. I feel a wave of relief, admitting this reality to myself, rather than dancing around it as I’ve been doing for weeks. I love Ruskin, and that won’t go away.
But there’s still pain—the pain of knowing that this love can’t go anywhere either, that it can’t find a home as things stand. There are too many obstacles blocking the way.
Nevertheless, right now, in this moment, I’d give anything to be able to take that first step.
It’s enough to keep me quiet for the rest of the day’s journey, unable to hold much of a conversation even when we decide to stop for the night. I’m too busy turning over what I’d say if I was ready to throw caution to the wind and fight for a chance for us to be together.
We make camp, building a fire, and I watch Ruskin pull a stack of embroidered fabric from one of the saddlebags, laying it on the ground. Next, he summons his magic, calling forth a small army of vines and tree branches that wind their way into the material. They start to tug the edges in opposite directions, looping through hooks at the corners to raise it up and pull it taut. In moments it’s gone from a pile of textile to an elaborate tent, with thick walls and a beautiful canopied roof. I step inside and see the result of magic here too. The ground is strewn with blankets and cushions, which look undeniably inviting after a hard day’s travel on the most uncomfortable horse in the world.
We eat, and only when we’re finished does my silence become too much for him.
“What did I say?” he asks abruptly, setting his dish down.
“Hmm?” I reply, startled out of the thoughts I’ve been lost in all day.
“You’ve barely spoken a word to me since noon. I want to know what’s bothering you so much.”
I make the leap and say what I’m really thinking. At least, one of the thoughts I’ve been obsessing over.
“Why can’t you tell me about my mother?”
His face turns stony, as if bracing for an attack.
“I thought we’d covered this. There’s nothing I can offer you on that subject.”
“I asked why you can’t say anything, that’s all. Surely you can tell me that. Is it a curse? What’s causing the pain when you try to talk about it—your magic or someone else’s?”
He opens his mouth, but hesitates, perhaps trying to figure out how to proceed without triggering the pain from before.
“It’s my magic, but it’s not unique to me. Any fae in this situation would be subject to the same punishment.”
It’s obvious he’s trying to give me clues—offering me a map to the answer without actually spelling it out. I think his words over.
“So you’re bound by your own magic…by fae magic.” If there’s one thing I’ve learned about fair folk’s magic, it’s that there are rules, check and balances. “It’s part of a deal,” I say, with understanding. “You’d be breaking a deal if you talked about it.”
He is silent, but I’m sure I’m right.
“A deal with my mother?” I ask, heart speeding up at the idea I may be close to the truth.
“Eleanor,” he says, his voice holding a note of request and warning.
I stand up, dropping the blanket in general frustration. He can’t tell me anything, and I can’t trust him. The stalemate remains.
So what I have learned? My mother made a deal, apparently. But what could she have possibly wanted from him? She always seemed content, happy with her life. She wasn’t the type to wish for riches or love. My father certainly didn’t need fae magic to make him adore her. Everyone did.
Worse, what did she give in return? That question follows me like a black shadow. Could this deal be the reason for my sickness as a child? Or for hers as an adult? For once, my mind has found an avenue it doesn’t want to explore, and I shy away from its depths. There’s no point subjecting myself to that, not without a way to know the truth.
“I wish you’d try to understand,” Ruskin says, watching me pace with frustration.
I let out a harsh little laugh at the irony. “I am trying.” That’s the point. I want nothing more than for this roadblock to melt away, but my fear of the truth won’t let me go.
Ruskin makes a noise of doubt, and I spin on my heel, facing him.
“You don’t believe me?” I ask, surprised.
“It’s just, you didn’t exactly offer me much understanding before.”
“When?” I demand.
“Oh, let me see, perhaps the night you left without a word? Simply walked out of this realm, never giving me a chance to explain?”
“You can’t explain,” I point out, the heat of anger rising to my cheeks.
“You didn’t know that then. And anyway, I could have told you why that was the case—that I’m magically bound. But you chose to assume the worst of me, like you always do.”
“That’s not true.”
“How could I say it if it weren’t?” he bites back.
He believes it to be true at least, and that stings. I try to think of it from his perspective: how he felt that he’d opened up to me, let me in, only for me to hurt him at the first chance, running for the hills. Hadn’t I confirmed all his worse fears? That if you came to rely on someone, they’ll let you down?
“I…I’m sorry,” I say. I’d been so focused on the marks he’d left on me, I hadn’t stopped to think how I’d wounded him in return. “I should at least have said goodbye. I know that now. You deserved an explanation.”
He looks like I’ve slapped him. Like he didn’t expect me to agree, and now that I have, it’s rattled him more than anything else.
“But in my defense, you’ve never made it easy to trust you, Ruskin. The way you always hold back and hide things—and yes,” I hold up my hand to cut him off when he looks like he’s going to interrupt, “I know it always seems like there’s good reason to you. But when I can’t know the reason, it feels like I’m always being left in the dark. I mean, you spend all your free time striking shady deals with my people, for goodness sakes, just so you can hold on to your secrets and power, rather than ask for help. And after all that you expect me to just blindly accept you have good reasons for all of it? That there’s always a justification for the way you hurt people?”
“I don’t like to hurt people, Eleanor.”
“I want to believe that, Ruskin,” I say, tears in my eyes, choking my throat. I do want to, so badly. Because if I did I wouldn’t need to hold back anymore.
“But this world is a cruel one,” he continues. “And sometimes you have to do cruel things to avoid greater suffering.”
“And the deals? You let me think they were to save you, but that wasn’t true, was it? You didn’t need them to keep you alive, and you don’t need them now.”
“I haven’t made a deal with a human since I came to visit you in Styrland, and I don’t intend to make any more.”
I gape at him. “You don’t?”
He sighs, sitting down on a log he positioned by the fire. He indicates for me to sit with him.
“You want to be able to trust me? Very well. The deals were never for me.”
At the frankness of his words, I accept his invitation to sit, listening intently.
“Everyone assumed that power went to me, that whatever I pulled from humans I used to build my own strength. But I was strong because I was High King. No one knew that, so they assumed my power came from my trades with humans. But I didn’t keep what I gained from those deals.”
“You didn’t?” I breathe.
“No. It all went to my mother.”
I say nothing, waiting for him to explain.
“Her magic wasn’t enough to keep her alive after what that king had done to her, and at the time, my power was hampered by Cebba’s curse. She was going to die, and I had to find a way to stop it. She needed life force, the pure power of a living thing.”
“You took life force from the people making trades?”
“I took whatever they’d give me, and then I turned it into life force. I’ve always been good at turning one kind of power into another.”
I took a second to absorb this. It didn’t seem to line up with any of the legends about him…but how old were those legends, anyway? Old to a human, certainly, but to a fae?
“So you weren’t always known for making deals?” I asked.
“No. In my youth, I didn’t see the point of them. Had no interest in the human realm. But for the past two hundred years, they’ve become my calling card. I sought out the humans I’d ignored before. I’d take anything they would trade, so long as I could convert it back into life force and channel it to my mother. It was what I needed to keep her always one step away from death. And I never had any trouble finding enough humans who wanted to make a deal.”
I reach my hand out, wrapping it around his. With this new insight, it was easy to put myself in his shoes. I remember when Mom started to get sick, the way I pored over her books, spoke to every medicine woman I could find, in the hopes of uncovering a way to help her. I was frantic, especially when it became clear Dad had already given up. Soon I was swallowed up by a bottomless desperation that still haunts me now. I was convinced there had to be an answer; there always was.
What if I’d found one? I’d never considered a deal with Blackcoat at the time—the consequences always seemed too unpredictable. For all I knew, the trickery of fae deals could mean I just ended up losing Mom in another way or made someone else in my life sick. But what if I found out that other people could save her, and all it required was persuading them to agree to a deal? A deal that might hurt them eventually, but that they wanted, all the same. It would be unscrupulous, maybe, perhaps selfish, but utterly understandable. Ruskin has already explained to me that the fallout humans experience from these deals is more often than not just the nature of the magic itself, or them being careless with the terms of their bargain. It’s not the vindictive revenge I’d assumed once upon a time. At least, not from him.
I know, without a doubt, I would’ve done the same.
“You have to know, I didn’t just do it for me,” he says. He’s not looking me in the eye, but staring into the flames, running ahead with his explanation like he thinks he still needs to convince me. “It was for the court and the kingdom. It was lost without her, I could see that. For a while, it seemed like there’d even be war. I was a poor substitute, and that meant she had to survive. I didn’t know what would happen to Faerie without her.”
Personally, I think Ruskin is a better leader than he gives himself credit for. The Seelie Kingdom might be threatened now, but it’s from forces beyond his control.
Ruskin’s shoulders are tense, stiffened by the memory of the desperation he must have felt all those years as he watched a parent barely clinging to life. I remember it vividly, how it was like you were being hunted without a moment to stop for breath. It doesn’t leave you easily. Ruskin lived with that sensation for two centuries, and Evanthe has only been awake for a matter of weeks.
“You did it, Ruskin, you saved her,” I say, massaging the knot between his shoulder blades. I press on it with the pad of my fingers, relishing the closeness. “You don’t have to fight that battle anymore.”
“We did it,” he says, meeting my gaze at last. He takes my other hand, so that I’m forced to twist towards him, sitting opposite, face to face.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, looking at me like I’m a light in the darkness, a sun in what had seemed to be an eternal night.
I may not know if we can return to what we once were, but after opening up, I can finally see that he needs me. I need him too, in my way. I realize that that’s good enough for me, knowing that at least I know the shape of secrets between us now, even if we haven’t banished them. And maybe… maybe I’m not thinking straight, but this is enough to make me take the leap.
I lean forward and kiss him.