Chapter 30
“Not far now,” Ruskin assures me as we wind through the trees.
We traveled as quickly as we could, both of us eager to get back to Seelie. As we tracked the way across the border, I thought about how our time at the Unseelie Court has untethered us, so that even the chaos of the Seelie Kingdom seems preferable. At least I have some idea of where we stand there, and while I hope we’re leaving Unseelie having gained something, every now and again Ruskin turns towards me and I catch a flash of that person he was during the attack. I know I still love him, I know I’d trust him with my life, and yet I still harbor this fear, burning quietly but persistently, about that side of him. It’s an obstacle I know I need to find a way to work through, because we’ve come too far and been through too much for it to keep haunting me like this. I can only hope it will be easier to dispel when we’re back on more familiar territory.
I believe we’re both relieved when the towers of the Seelie Court come into view over the treetops of the Emerald Forest. We pick up the pace on our horses—even I’m getting the hang of it after days of straight travel—and trot onwards.
I expected the animals to be eager for home and the comforts of their stables, but while they move faster now that we’re nearly there, I can’t help noticing that they seem restless, anxious—shaking their heads and whinnying as if there’s a predator on their heels. I’m on the alert for an angry gryphon or hungry troll, but their skittishness worsens after we leave the forest, and the nearer we are to the palace.
The problem is obvious the moment we crest a hill and see the front of the building.
A fat, gray tendril of iron snakes its way out of the main entrance, and it’s not alone. Out of windows and on balconies more iron juts, dark and terrible, in twisting shoots and jagged shards. My stomach drops. It reminds me of the explosion of silver I created in the valley when clumps of metal impaled Ruskin’s bower. The palace and connected court look like that shelter, only on a huge scale.
Even from here, I can sense the evil radiating off the metal. Ruskin and I share an appalled look.
We shouldn’t have left.
We urge our horses into a gallop. I no longer care about the risk of falling off. I’m much more afraid of what we’ll find inside. But before we can leave the hill behind, a group of High Fae on their own horses ride up. They block our way to the palace, forcing us to pull up short, and my stomach twists when I see Hadeus at the head of the group.
“What’s going on here?” Ruskin demands.
“The prophecy has come to pass, Your Highness,” says Jorna, who urges her horse to the front of the other riders. She still has the same wild-eyed look about her, only now with a triumphant edge, I think. She’s pleased to have been proven right. “The court has been purged, and the Seelie have been forced to flee.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering if this woman will ever fully make sense.
Hadeus answers, ignoring me entirely and addressing Ruskin. “She means that half of us have abandoned the court entirely, Your Highness, unable to live under these conditions.”
I look towards the palace, my dread mounting. “I can help,” I say. “Let me inspect the iron and?—”
“No.” Hadeus cuts me off. “You must stay away.”
“I’d watch your manners, Lord Hadeus,” Ruskin says, a dangerous tone in his voice.
Hadeus draws his horse back a few steps, as if instinctively feeling the need to put distance between him and Ruskin, but he doesn’t apologize. If anything, I’d say he looks affronted.
“Hasn’t she done enough?” he says, jerking his head at me and then at the iron-pocked palace behind him.
“Eleanor has done nothing but try to help this court,” Ruskin snaps.
“If you please, my Lord,” says Jorna, looking between all of us imploringly, “Things have only gotten worse since the day she first came here. I believe the prophecy demands that we purge any poisons from?—”
“Eleanor is not a poison,” Ruskin growls. Jorna falls silent, looking cowed, but the other High Fae exchange knowing looks, and my anger and shame feel like they could burn me up, hearing myself being talked about like this.
“How can you be sure?”
The words are out of Hadeus’s mouth before I think he’s fully considered them. A vine immediately shoots up from the ground, startling his horse so that it rears up. The plant wraps itself around Hadeus’s wrist, yanking it up behind his back so he’s forced to lean forward in his saddle, desperately trying to steady his horse with one hand.
“I told you to watch your manners, Swallowtail,” says Ruskin coolly.
“This realm cannot thrive with such unnaturalness in it,” Hadeus spits, his voice tight from speaking at an awkward angle. “The ephor said it herself.”
Jorna’s eyes widen in alarm, and she shakes her head, looking nervously between Hadeus and Ruskin. Whatever she might have said—whatever she might actually believe—it’s clear she doesn’t want to be lumped in with the rest of them in Ruskin’s view. Not when he’s standing right in front of her.
“Now, let’s not go too far, Lord Hadeus,” she says. “Everyone knows these things are open to interpretation.”
“Yes, let’s not go too far,” Ruskin says, his voice all the deadlier for being soft as velvet. “Don’t make me have to go too far, Lord Hadeus. Because I will remain your prince when all is said and done, with the authority to do as I like with anyone who threatens this court. And seeing as the curse has only gotten worse in Eleanor’s absence,I’d say anyone who calls to remove her is indeed a threat to this court.”
He retracts the vine, releasing Hadeus, who sits up in his saddle, massaging his wrist. He gives Ruskin a look of pure hatred.
“I would’ve thought the queen would have final say on this matter, my Lord,” Hadeus says, somehow making the last two words sound like an insult.
Ruskin bares his teeth. “And you presume to know what the queen wants?”
Hadeus glares, but refrains from answering. Instead, he seizes his reins.
“It would seem we have nothing further to discuss, my Lord,” he says.
“That’s the wisest thing you’ve said this whole conversation,” Ruskin replies.
Hadeus just shakes his head, chivvying his horse to ride off towards the Emerald Forest. The rest follow, and Ruskin glowers after them.
“Come on, let’s go,” I say. The sourness of a handful of fae matters a lot less to me than the description of the court so overrun with iron that half the courtiers have fled. Could things have really gotten that bad so soon? I need to see it for myself—and see if there’s anything I can do.
With the main entrance blocked, we find a side door not overrun by the metal, using it to slip inside. I’m almost shocked that we don’t immediately hit a wall of iron, but the first corridor we come across is clear. It’s also deserted. I shiver at the unnatural silence of it.
“Look,” Ruskin points to gouges in the floor, like someone’s hacked an object off it. “They’ve been clearing it by hand.”
Now that I look, I can see the evidence that there was iron here, but it’s been removed. It must’ve been terrible, painstaking work, and a swell of guilt threatens to overwhelm me.
“Dawnsong, Eleanor.” I don’t think Halima’s serious voice has ever sounded so welcoming to me as it does now, and I turn to see her striding towards us. Her normally calm face looks strained, dark circles of tiredness underscoring her eyes.
“My men sighted you and alerted me to your return.”
“What happened?” Ruskin asks, his horror making it come out like a demand.
“The problem has worsened,” Halima says, her voice cold. “I would’ve thought that was clear.”
“But I told you to send word if this happened,” Ruskin snaps back. I understand his frustration; it’s easier than wallowing in the guilt, but it does little to thaw Halima.
“I received orders from the queen to delay the message. She said that your mission in the Unseelie Kingdom was essential, and that calling you back early would only cause more problems.”
It’s true that my training is important, but Evanthe giving those instructions seems strange to me. I examine my friend’s face, looking for something I’m not sure I can name at that moment. I just know this feels wrong.
“You disobeyed an order,” Ruskin says.
“Ruskin—” I start to interrupt, but Halima gets there first, her eyes flaring.
“I followed the instruction of my queen. Who, might I remind you, is supposed to be the ruler of this court.”
“Are you denying my authority?” Ruskin asks, astounded.
“I question the authority of a king who would leave his court in such desperate circumstances, yes.”
Even my jaw drops. Halima has always been one to speak her mind, but I’ve never seen her this openly defiant before.
“Half of your court has abandoned this place, the other half are growing sicker by the day. I warned you,” Halima continues, and a rare note of emotion makes her voice crack. “I told you not to go, and now this.” She flings her arms wide, taking in the whole of the iron-infected court.
“Halima,” I say gently, trying to calm her. “Ruskin was only doing what he thought was best. He had a difficult decision to make, but he made what he thought was the right choice.”
“Don’t talk to me about right choices, Eleanor. Not when you’ve been as guilty as anyone of distracting him from his duty.”
I step back, feeling like she’s hit me. I knew Halima was upset, but I had no idea she felt that way. It stings terribly, that the brave swordswoman who I thought was my friend thinks I’m only a distraction. A plaything for the prince who should be focusing on his people. I feel my cheeks heat with hurt and shame.
“I have to go see how they’re getting on at the Calloline Quarter,” Halima says, not looking at me. “No one’s been able to get inside for days.”
She starts off down the corridor, then seems to think better of something and stops, addressing Ruskin, but not meeting my eye.
“You should go see the queen. She hasn’t been herself lately. Not since these eruptions got worse.”
We watch her tall frame disappear in the other direction, but neither of us says anything for a moment. I think we’re both stunned by her anger, and I wonder if Ruskin feels as wounded by her words as I do.
“We should find my mother,” Ruskin says eventually, starting up towards the private section of the palace. I rush to keep up with him, noting how half the corridors sport the same signs of excavation as the one we’ve just come from. Every so often we pass by a corridor that’s still consumed by iron, the shoots twisting around the walls and floor like a creeping disease. I notice how Ruskin stiffens whenever we’re close to it.
“This is too much of a burden for her,” he says as we walk. It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking about Evanthe, not Halima. “She’ll have overextended herself, trying to hold this place together.” He shakes his head. “Maybe Halima is right.”
“We couldn’t have known, Ruskin,” I say, though I sound unconvincing even to myself.
Up ahead a figure with brown skin appears, wearing a buttercup-yellow jacket.
“Destan!” I shout, desperate for a friendly face in all this darkness.
“I heard you were back,” he says, almost breathless, like he’s been running to find us. “As you can see, we’re in a bit of a mess.”
“How’s my mother?” Ruskin dives in. “Halima said she’s not been well.”
Destan’s expression turns awkward. “I’ve been staying in your rooms—it’s one of the few places not overrun yet, but honestly, I haven’t seen much of her. I think she’s been keeping to her private chambers, though she’s been receiving visitors. A servant told me Lord Hadeus has gone to see her almost every day.”
The sense of foreboding doubles within me. So, there was a reason he spoke with such authority about Evanthe earlier. Even if he was supposed to be consulting the queen on the excavation efforts, I don’t like the idea of him having so much access to her. There’s too much opportunity for him to sink his claws into Evanthe, and I bet he’s up to something. When I look over at Ruskin, he looks worried too.
“Do you think he’s been trying to manipulate her?” I suggest. “Tricking her into delaying Halima’s message so we stayed away longer?”
Ruskin frowns. “No. My mother would never fall for such an obvious ploy.”
“Wouldn’t she?” I ask tentatively. “You yourself said she’s weaker than she was before. Maybe the iron’s taking its toll and she’s not thinking straight. Halima did say she hadn’t been herself.”
I glance at Destan, but he just looks back at me with panicked eyes, like I’m on my own here.
Ruskin shakes his head, and I know he’ll deny it before he opens his mouth.
“This isn’t her fault.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just trying to suggest that?—”
“The most important thing now is making sure she’s all right,” Ruskin says, cutting me off.
I study him, seeing the flash of fear in his eyes. I know why he’s being so defensive. He’s terrified of losing her again. He can’t concentrate on anything until he knows she’s okay. I can understand that, but it doesn’t stop the tension pulling taut between us, painful and frustrating.
“Fine,” I say abruptly. “You go check on her, but there’s a whole court of people out there suffering, and I’m going to work on the iron.”
If nothing else, I can test out the tricks Maidar has shown me, to see if it makes a difference.
I think Ruskin might protest or acknowledge my frustrated tone, but instead he just nods.
“Be careful,” he says, and for a brief moment, I feel the warmth of his concern and attention.
“I will,” I say.
When his back is turned, I nod to Destan.
“Please go with him,” I say to my friend. “I don’t trust that Hadeus.”
I head to the orchard. That’s where this thing started and that’s where I’m sure answers lie. I was so close before when I examined the debris from the excavation, the answer just out of reach. I hope that now that I’ve learned how to extend, I can finally uncover the truth I’m looking for, buried under layers of iron.
The place is eerily quiet as I move through the corridors. There’s barely even a Low Fae to be spotted scurrying in between rooms, attending to their hundreds of jobs. Halima already told us that the miners’ excavation efforts are concentrated elsewhere in the palace, and I guess that everyone else who’d normally be bustling around began avoiding these areas when the eruptions worsened, moving farther and farther out of the court buildings to avoid the poison overtaking their home. The silence feels unnatural, especially when we’ve just come from the bustling Unseelie Court, and it makes my skin prickle.
The orchard is no better. It’s become a ghost town of discarded tools, though I release a tense breath when I see they’ve taken care of the bodies from when I was last here. The only signs of the tragedy that took place here have to be searched for: a lost shoe. The torn sleeve of a shirt. A brown stain across a fallen tree trunk that I think might be blood.
I clamber over the iron into the middle of the room, where I remember the metal first appearing. The shoots tower over me, and I feel like I’m in a vast gray forest. This place has a pall of suffering over it, and I can feel it seeping into my bones, nurturing my doubts.
But I shouldn’t doubt my abilities. I saw what I could do in the mountains, and I will get answers today.
I bend down, searching out one of the strange knots of iron that the fae excavated. I hold it tight in one hand, and place the other on the nearest shoot. The metal is cold and hard, and I know from experience that it will fight me. I’m prepared now, however, and remind myself of Maidar’s lessons—to not see this thing as a whole, but to go deeper, the very base level of its being.
I close my eyes and dive into the pool of my magic, focusing on the knot first. At first, I’m only able to touch the same information I found before—the sense of something once living, warped by anger and pain. I drop deeper into the object, examining the shape of its folds and layers.
Not just a living thing—it was once a plant, the shape of it unexpectedly familiar to me, like the lyric of a song you didn’t know you remembered.
It’s a rose.
That’s what I’m holding—a rose blossom, transformed into an unrecognizable lump of iron—yet once it was beautiful and vibrant. I feel a wave of triumph at the realization, but it quickly fades. What does it mean? How could a rose have turned into iron?
At first I don’t notice my heart rate picking up as my brain follows the trail of thoughts: the palace is filled with flowers, but roses have a special link to the Dawnsongs. It’s mentioned in Ruskin’s rhyme, and his infamous black coat is made from petals from his mother’s rose garden.
I don’t answer the question looming in my mind. Not yet. First I have to be sure. I close my eyes again and turn my attention to the iron shoot. The time has come to find its roots.
They were beyond me before, but I’ve stretched the muscles of my magic so that it can reach further and do more than I ever dreamed possible. I follow the shoots beneath the earth even as my fear grows. I’m desperate for the truth, but at the same time not sure I want to know it.
I feel the darkness of the soil press in around me, carrying me down, deep beneath the palace. Under the foundations is a mass of snarled iron tendrils—a vast network stretching for miles in every direction. It’s breathtaking and horrifying in equal measure.
I know I’m getting close to the source when the tendrils begin curving upwards, reaching towards the surface. A few feet underground, the iron gives way to organic matter—the roots of rose bushes, entwined with the metal like a lover’s embrace. The iron tendrils are the twisted offspring of the two, I realize. They’ve colonized the plant roots, taking them over, and growing into the monster that’s infested the court.
The roots of the iron plague lie in the rose garden.
I felt it being taken from me, didn’t I? When I was removing the particles from Evanthe, the metal polluting her body just disappeared. I didn’t understand it at the time, but it wasn’t blinking out of existence, it was being snatched away from me and fed into something else—into these gleaming, poisonous roots, created by some evil force to destroy the palace.
I reach out with my mind, finding almost immediately what I’d expected: a well of dark magic, carrying the same malevolence I feel radiating from the iron, only more concentrated. Maidar had told me something like this had to be holding back my ability to read the metal, but it’s disturbing to find it here, nestled in the very center of Ruskin’s world.
Evanthe lay close to this well for years, and it was the iron from her body that the darkness channeled into the roses, using them to spread and multiply. Now I find myself asking the question I’d been too afraid to before: could her magic be linked to all this?
Maybe it’s unconscious, maybe she doesn’t know she’s doing it, but I can’t help thinking that it’s possible. The first eruption occurred at the banquet, one I got the sense she didn’t want to attend. The iron arrived again as the founding stone rejected her. Both moments of high stress for her. It might be coincidence, but my gut is telling me otherwise.
I need to find Ruskin. Once I explain this to him, we can do something about this. We’ll find a way to break the link between Evanthe and the iron and we can help her heal properly.
I hurry to the royal chambers, remembering that Ruskin is probably with Evanthe now. But her rooms are empty, with no sign of either of them. I search Ruskin’s rooms next, but only find Destan sitting in the library.
“Destan, where’s Ruskin?” I gasp, out of breath from rushing.
He shrugs. “He sent me away when he went to talk to Evanthe. Isn’t he still with her?”
There are a dozen normal reasons why the pair would be off somewhere together, but a potent dread runs through my veins. Destan must see it on my face, because he jumps to his feet.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“The iron, I know where it comes from. Something happened when we woke Evanthe up. The metal in her body infected the roses. I don’t think she realizes it.” It sounds insane even to me, and I can see Destan opening his mouth, ready to refute what I’m saying.
But he’s cut short when the ground begins to shake beneath our feet—the same distant rumble that warned us of the iron eruption before, at the founding stone. At that moment, I realize where Ruskin and Evanthe have gone.
Destan and I lock eyes.
“Go get help, find Halima, tell her I think Ruskin’s in trouble.”
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“The founding stone,” I say. “I think Evanthe might be trying to become High Queen again.”