Chapter 31
It’s been only a matter of weeks since I first stood in front of this door—the one that will take me into the massive maze beneath the palace—but so much has changed. For one thing, I can open it myself now, setting the brass wheel into motion with a wave of my hand. I step through it into the cool passageway, trying to maintain a calm focus even as the world judders and quakes around me.
I’d once wondered how someone would ever find their way to the founding stone without knowing it already, but today, I realize that I don’t need to find the stone. I just need to find Ruskin.
He was in such a rush to see his mother that I doubt he’s changed out of his traveling clothes or bothered to remove his sword—and I know that blade. I’ve wielded it myself and warded it off in training. It shouldn’t be too hard to find now.
My magic manages to locate it quickly, shining like a beacon in my imagination—guiding me through the long, winding passageways. I move quickly…but as I go, I empty my pockets, turning the bits of metal I have into a thin silver chain—a guide rope to show the way.
I have an awful feeling that he is in danger, that Evanthe isn’t fully in control of herself, or else Hadeus has worked some nasty plot that they’ve both fallen foul of.
I reach the chamber with the circle of columns and see a pair of figures in the center. There’s Ruskin, standing opposite his mother. I feel a flicker of relief since he looks fine at first glance, but as I move closer, he shifts, and I see his hands are behind his back.
They’re bound in thick chains of iron, his skin red raw from where it burns his flesh. Then I see it’s even worse than I first thought, because thin streams of blood trickle down his clenched fists. There are spikes on the manacles, puncturing his wrists, driving the iron into his bloodstream.
I don’t think to stifle my gasp, and Evanthe spins round, immediately spotting me in the wide chamber. Her brows furrow, and then the ground in front of me splits open.
Two winding iron vines shoot up towards me from the earth, attempting to wrap themselves around my wrists.
I don’t think so.
I summon my magic, throwing it around the creeping metal and ripping the tendrils from the ground. I fling them across the room and they clatter between the columns, landing near Evanthe’s feet where they writhe for a moment like dying worms, before going still.
The tendrils of iron haven’t gotten any stronger since the last time I battled them. I have, though. It’s with satisfaction that I note there are clearly limits to the iron’s power. To Evanthe’s power.
Because looking at her now, it’s clear that she hasn’t been tricked or manipulated. She knows exactly what she’s doing—and from the cold, quiet anger on her face, I get the sense that she’s nowhere near done.
She’s standing by the founding stone. My stomach sinks as I realize that if she manages to make herself High Queen properly, her power—and the iron’s power—will become practically unstoppable.
“Mother,” Ruskin says, bewilderment in his tone. “What are you doing?” He looks at her like he can’t understand how they got here. I don’t either. I could almost comprehend it if she’d been driven mad by the iron, twisted into someone out of control. But that’s not her.
“You need to make me your heir, Ruskin,” Evanthe says, keeping one eye on me. I risk stepping closer to the circle, and she throws up a hand.
“Be careful, Miss Thorn. It’s better you don’t get involved in this.”
“My lady,” I say, hoping she can be reasoned with. “Can’t you see you’re hurting him?” I gesture to Ruskin’s hands, still suffering under the grip of the iron.
“You need to make me your heir, my son,” she says again. “I’d compel you if I could, but I took part in your true name ceremony, so your name is useless to me. But that doesn’t mean I won’t find another way to…persuade you. You must make me your heir. It’s the only way the stone will stop resisting me. Mark my name on the stone, and I’ll be able to pass the trials.”
I stare between them, trying to understand what’s going on here. Ruskin wanted to make Evanthe High Queen all along, and was willing to take this step to do it, so what’s changed? Why would Evanthe show her cards now? It occurs to me that Ruskin must’ve suggested postponing her coronation once more when he saw her, in response to the fresh iron. Little did he know, she wouldn’t have been able to tolerate that, not after all her quiet waiting. So, she decided to push the issue—forcing him to step up. But what then? She can’t believe that Ruskin will sit back and let her become monarch now he knows she’s controlling the iron. So how does this end for her?
The answer comes to me as Ruskin shifts his wrists, grunting with discomfort as it jostles the iron spikes in his pierced flesh.
She’s going to kill him.
That’s the only way this makes sense; why she wouldn’t care that Ruskin knows what she’s up to. Being the heir might make it easier for her to pass the stone’s trials, but once the king is dead, the stone would basically have to choose her.
“Ruskin, she wants you dead,” I warn him. “If you put her name on that stone, she’ll kill you so she can inherit the throne.”
Ruskin looks broken but unsurprised, like he’d been waiting for his world to collapse in like this.
“Yes, I deduced as much.”
“Why would you want to do this?” I ask Evanthe in disbelief. “He’s your son.”
She bows her head as if acknowledging my point. She even looks sad as she does it.
“I’m not blind to the harshness of my actions, Miss Thorn, but sacrifices must be made. My becoming High Queen is the only way to save this court.”
“What do you mean?” I ask incredulously. “You’re the one who’s been attacking it with iron this whole time.”
“And where did that iron come from? It might have been the humans who used it on me, but a pair of Seelie High Fae, my own husband and daughter, decided to share the secret with them simply for a chance at power.”
“I don’t understand,” Ruskin says. His voice is weaker than before, I notice. The iron is taking its toll on him.
“Of course you don’t, my son. Your father’s Unseelie side has always balanced you well. You never had a great hunger for the things the Seelie value—shallow beauty, power for power’s sake. My court is a rotten, poisonous thing. I couldn’t see it before, back when I was soft and idealistic, and thought that peace would fall at my feet if I just showed people it was the better way.”
Ruskin’s head droops, and I can see that his strength is failing. As Evanthe talks, I slowly reach out with my power, beginning to work on his bindings.
“Cebba and Ilberon were the ones who tried to have you murdered,” I point out, trying to keep her focus on me, rather than what Ruskin’s bindings are doing. “Not the Seelie Court.”
“But they were products of their environment, Miss Thorn. Why did my court urge me to take another husband when my beloved Lucan died? Why did they rejoice so intensely when I produced a full Seelie child? And why did Cebba and Ilberon thirst so much for my throne? I am not blameless—I let the worst side of my people flourish, allowed their petty prejudices, their vanity, and greed to fester until the entire place was diseased, because I wouldn’t deliver punishment where it was needed.”
“And now you will?” I ask.
She looks pleased that I’m understanding her.
“Of course. Such is my duty. A duty I have waited centuries to fulfill. I was weak before. I didn’t see they needed a firm hand. Cebba showed me that. That girl was brainwashed by her father, but once she was free of him, she would visit me.”
Ruskin’s head jerks up.
“Cebba came to see you in the garden?”
“She would whisper to me about the court in my sleep, sending me dreams of what could be. She pointed out my weaknesses as a leader and showed me how to be strong.”
The well of dark magic beneath the rose garden suddenly makes sense to me. Cebba was feeding her cursed power to Evanthe all those years she was hiding in the court as a servant. Perhaps she had plans to wake Evanthe eventually herself, but whatever her intentions, even beyond the grave, her evil is haunting us.
I’m trying to focus on too many things at once, distracted by Evanthe’s bizarre revelations. I shake my head and return to Ruskin’s bindings.
“But when I’m High Queen, I will change that,” Evanthe continues. “I will ensure that the vices of my people are stamped out for good.”
Ruskin blinks sleepily, looking like he’s barely holding on to consciousness, and he sways where he stands. I tug at the last threads of iron still holding his bindings together.
“But why spread the iron? What will that teach them?” Ruskin slurs.
She looks surprised that he even had to ask. “Pain,” she says. “It will teach them pain—which is a lesson they all need to learn. The Seelie’s punishment requires the destruction of all they love: the court they fight for control over, the beauty of the kingdom, and the abundance that makes them lazy and self-indulgent. I will purge this land with iron so that a better court can rise from the ashes.”
Ruskin’s bindings are broken, but I don’t remove them from his hands yet. When I look at him swaying there, it’s clear that the fight has gone out of him. If I freed him now, I doubt he’d be able to get in a single spell before Evanthe bound him again, not with iron still contaminating his veins.
I wish I could give him my power like he did for me in the Unseelie trial—use it to drive all trace of the poison out of him. But I can’t, not when he doesn’t know my true name. All my fears about sharing it with him seem trivial at this point. Was I really worried that he was too fierce or violent or secretive? When I look at him now, I just see the man who did everything to save his mother, who moved heaven and earth to keep her alive, only to have her wish death upon him in the end. And yet even now, there’s no rage there, no hunger for revenge despite this most awful of betrayals. His face is filled with pure sorrow. I’d trust him with my power, I realize. I know he’d do the right thing.
Out of nowhere, someone steps into the circle of columns, startling us all.
Despite her size, Halima has always been good at moving around unnoticed. I thank the heavens for that skill now and for the sharp intuition that made her follow the silver thread I unspooled for her on the way here.
The swordswoman advances further into the circle, holding her weapon cautiously in front of her. She takes in the scene, looking from Ruskin to Evanthe.
“Halima,” I blurt out. “She’s going to kill Ruskin.”
Halima’s eyes fall on me and a spear of doubt pierces my relief. I’d assumed she would immediately charge at Evanthe, allowing me to help Ruskin, but she holds still, looking between us all like she’s waiting for something.
“Lady Sunshard,” Evanthe addresses her formally. “I know you’ve taken a vow to protect this court. It needs you now to help its rightful ruler regain her power.”
“You can’t trust her!” I shout, growing increasingly desperate at Halima’s lack of reaction. “She’s behind the iron, Halima. She’s the one cursing the court.”
But Evanthe doesn’t play the villain, she doesn’t lash out or try to silence me. She simply shakes her head at my outburst and continues speaking.
“I’m afraid that under Ruskin’s rule, things have gotten out of control. I know you’ve seen it yourself. He doesn’t know how to guide our people. If left unchecked, his decisions could lead to another war. A civil conflict that could tear this kingdom apart.”
My heart beats a frantic rhythm in my chest as Halima looks like she’s actually listening to Evanthe, considering her words. Of course, I realize, Halima won’t listen to me. She thinks I’m a distraction—that Ruskin has been making reckless and dangerous decisions, and that I’m to blame.
I look to Ruskin, but he says nothing, as if he thinks the cause is already lost with our friend. As if he couldn’t imagine a world where anyone would pick him as a ruler over his mother.
Evanthe steps towards the swordswoman, holding out her hands welcomingly.
“I can make sure this kingdom is returned to order without a single weapon needing to be lifted.”
Halima bows her head, her voice its usual solemn tone. “Your Highness, you’re right. I have indeed taken a vow to protect this realm against all threats, and I will uphold it until my dying day.”
I feel my heart start to break.
Then Halima lifts her sword and slashes it upwards.
The queen screams in shock, jumping back, but of course she’s not quick enough. Halima is a master swordswoman, and she’s left a deep gash from Evanthe’s left breast all the way up to her shoulder. Evanthe falls back against one of the pillars as the sliced flesh gapes horribly and blood blooms across her dress. A look of blank confusion flashes across her features as she tries to process the pain.
I don’t waste the moment, throwing myself towards Ruskin, who is sinking to his knees, his face ashen.
“Ruskin. Rus,” I murmur, putting my mouth to his ear in a mirror of the way he spoke to me on the mountain. “Stay with me. I need to tell you something.”
The clash of metal behind me tells me Evanthe is now battling Halima, but I’m confident the swordswoman has us covered. Ruskin’s eyes brighten at the sound of my voice, but he still looks so terribly drained. I take a deep breath and give him the lifeline that can save him.
“My true name is Lunasworn,” I whisper.
It’s like releasing a burden I didn’t even know I’d been carrying, opening a door that had been holding back a flood. Magic hums around us and Ruskin meets my gaze, lifting a hand to my cheek to let me know he’s heard me. Then I pour my magic into him.
I’d been afraid that I wouldn’t know what to do, but it just comes naturally, like breathing. I take my power and channel it, pushing along a connection that wasn’t there before, an open passage that links me to him like a bridge.
I watch the magic work before my eyes, restoring his color. In mere seconds he’s ready to rip his hands free of the broken bindings, standing up and pulling me with him.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice clear and strong again. An aura of magic brews around him like a vast storm, and I’m filled with hope.
The sound of metal puncturing metal rings in the air.
I turn and see Evanthe kneeling in front of Halima. Blood is still pouring from the queen’s chest, which rises and falls in an erratic rhythm. But there’s a sick look of determination on her face. Halima, meanwhile, is standing perfectly still… because a thick tendril of iron has pierced straight through her armor, impaling her heart.
I don’t know what sound I make, something between a scream and a strangled version of Halima’s name. I immediately summon my remaining magic to wrench the iron spike from her body. My friend falls to the floor with a thud, her sword clattering beside her.
Ruskin turns on Evanthe, and I feel the rush of power around us that tells me he’s about to make her regret ever waking up. I don’t care, though. The sound of magic fizzing and exploding is secondary to the gurgling breaths of Halima as I kneel beside her on the floor.
“Halima, Hal,” I say, fat tears sliding down my face. “Hold on, we’ll get you a healer.”
“No point,” Halima chokes. “Too much damage.”
She’s a professional. She knows she’s done for, and I see that realization shining in her eyes, shaping her usually stoic features.
“Tell me what I can do,” I say. She always has some practical advice, some straightforward solution. But for once, she doesn’t give me a direct answer.
“I’ve been stubborn,” she says, fighting for each word. Her hand clutches at thin air, and I realize what she wants. I pull her sword closer, folding her fingers around the handle, so she can feel the comfort of the pommel. “I’m sorry…I don’t think you’re a distraction, Eleanor.”
I push back tears, trying to be brave for her—like her.
“I knew you didn’t mean it,” I say.
“It will be your job now, Eleanor… You have to watch his back.”
I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. Her breaths are shallower now. Watching her struggle, when she’d always seemed so invincible, is almost too much to bear. I search around for something to tell her, something to send her into the next world with some peace.
“Your parents would be proud of you, Hal,” I say, holding my voice as steady as I can. “You’re a warrior.”
A rare, true smile graces Halima’s lips, and then she grows still.