Chapter 16
P arsley lumbers through the Unseelie countryside with stubborn purpose. Occasionally, he’ll swing his head from side to side, sniffing the air, but he’s kept focused by the forward motion of the other animals around him. According to Vaccia, we’re not far from Cavalil. In order to get here quickly, we traveled by portal, which meant our landing point was limited to the nearest large body of water.
It was certainly a sight to see the army of Unseelie marching into a mountainside waterfall, only to disappear as the water swallowed them up. I rode through on Parsley, the mountains around me giving way to the squeezing sensation and darkness of portal travel before we emerged from a large lake onto a heath. Now, riding to the Low Fae settlement, I feel confident on Parsley in a way I never did on the horses. He’s smarter for one, changing stance intuitively when I shift my weight in the saddle.
He’s also closer to the ground, which is pretty important when I spend most of my time on horses worrying about falling.
What had been an atmosphere of activity and preparation at the Unseelie Court, however, has now grown into one of taut anticipation. I can feel it in the fae around me—the way they hold themselves, their alert expressions. It seeps into me, and even with Ruskin by my side, my nerves start to jump beneath my skin. I fix my eyes on the king near the head of the march and find strength in remembering that I’m here to help him and his people however I can.
It’s almost a relief when Cavalil comes into view up ahead. It’s bigger than my village, almost a town, with sturdy buildings of stone and clay. A fae with large, dark irises like a nocturnal animal rides forward a few yards, scanning the horizon, then circles back to murmur in Lisinder’s ear. He nods, then straightens on his huge black horse, leading us onwards.
“What’s happening?” I ask Ruskin.
“I suspect the scout can see further than most of us, and has just confirmed Evanthe’s soldiers aren’t lying in wait for us up ahead.”
“Well, that’s something,” says Destan. “I’d feel positively foolish if she managed to ambush us twice.” His wry humor does little to put me at ease.
The chance of a surprise attack feels even more unlikely when we get closer to Cavalil. Evanthe’s militia is visible on a slight incline on the other side of the settlement. I squint and judge they’re probably about half a mile from the outskirts, close to the border. But they’re just standing there, unmoving.
“I thought they’d be attacking the town by now,” I say, finding something creepy about the motionless figures on the hill. “The way Evanthe spoke, she made it sound like her punishment would be swift.”
“Maybe they’ve already finished,” Destan says grimly.
We enter the outskirts of the town, passing the first of the stone buildings as the Seelie on the hill watch our every move. There’s no sign of the town’s residents and everyone’s tension ramps up a notch, breaths getting shallow and movements more cautious.
“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” I whisper to Ruskin.
“It could be,” he says, looking ahead to a cluster of houses. “But I sense that whatever Evanthe is up to isn’t subtle.” His face grows solemn as he points to something over my shoulder.
I turn, and my stomach churns with horror.
A Low Fae lies on the ground near a doorway, his eyes are wide and unseeing, pointed towards the sky. His mouth is open in a silent scream, a bloody iron spike protruding from it. Shadows hover over the body like a fog, strange tendrils that seem oddly familiar.
I look away, wanting to spare my eyes from the awfulness of it, only for them to settle on another body a few yards beyond the first. This one has iron pierced through her skull, exiting out of her eye socket. She lies to the side, revealing where the iron erupted from the ground beside her, and the same dark tendrils of shadow wrap themselves around the metal.
Lisinder sees the iron at the same time we do, calling for a halt.
“She’s found a way to extend her powers,” I say to Ruskin and Destan, my worst fears confirmed. The roots of the iron she used to terrorize the Seelie palace should be too far away for her to call on them here. Even Ruskin as High King has to work to call on his earth magic when he’s in Unseelie territory. But somehow, the iron is here, and it’s changed. These attacks seem targeted. Instead of the iron shoots I remember punching their way indiscriminately through buildings, these shoots seem to have consciously hunted down the residents, with terrifying precision.
And those shadows…
Ruskin recognizes them before I do.
“It looks like the darkness that plagues the beasts of Interra,” he says.
He’s right. The monster he fought had those very same shadows. I shiver as I remember the way they left its corpse, like parasites searching for a new host. What if they’ve found it?
“It seems that Interra has gifted my mother with something, just as Cragfoot said.”
“It’s made her stronger,” I say, turning to Destan. “Remember the iron attacks from before? How random they seemed?”
He nods. “Just senseless destruction.”
“She wasn’t fully in control of the iron then,” I say grimly. “But she is now.”
“Darkness calls to darkness,” says Ruskin, and something in his tone chills me.
“What do you mean?”
“You said that the iron in her blood wasn’t the only thing that changed Evanthe. She was also poisoned by dark magic from my sister, yes? If she carried that dark magic with her into Interra, it could very well have shaped what the space between realms decided to gift to her.”
I watch as Lisinder’s scout rides back from inspecting one of the bodies, pale faced, and speaks again with the king.
“You’re saying she carved out some of the evil in Interra and brought it back with her,” I say.
Destan shakes his head. “But how is she explaining any of this to the court? The Hunt might be bloodthirsty idiots, but even they would think twice about following her, knowing she was the one destroying the palace and putting them in danger all along. Wouldn’t they?”
We don’t have time to speculate over the answer, because Elias is riding towards us, his eyes on me.
“Lady Thorn,” he says, more formal than I’ve ever seen him.
“It’s cold iron,” I say, beating him to it. We all already knew it, but I understand that the Unseelie still had to confirm it for themselves.
“It is indeed,” says Elias grimly. “And as you say, you have some expertise in this area…”
I look out across the town, staring down the streets. The shadows seem to get thicker the deeper my gaze goes, a layer of darkness hovering over the ground like morning mist on a river.
Where are you?
This disturbing scene isn’t just for effect. Evanthe wanted us here. But I came here with a purpose too—to use my powers for good. Ruskin shifts behind me restlessly, as if he can read the direction of my thoughts, but he stays silent.
I urge Parsley forward, approaching Lisinder, and Ruskin follows not far behind.
“I presume this is the work of the iron curse you have spoken of,” Lisinder says, gesturing to the bodies. “You hoped she would not be able to access it from here.”
“I did, but I also prepared for the worst,” I say.
“Then the time has come to prove yourself, Lady Thorn. My soldiers can’t advance deeper into Cavalil with the iron present—we must assume that’s why Evanthe’s soldiers are keeping their distance too—but we must protect the town. Can you help us?”
I meet his expectant look, realizing how much I want to do right by this man who defended us against Evanthe.
“Give me a moment,” I say, dismounting from Parsley.
I can feel the Unseelie’s eyes burning into my back as I approach the nearest body. I think it might never stop amazing the fae, seeing me unaffected around a substance so toxic to them. I try not to focus on the face of the dead fae as I kneel beside him, but I can’t help but notice the amber shade of his eyes and the marble-smooth texture of his skin. The details force their way into my mind as I try to focus, and it takes me longer than it should to still the pool of power within me.
I carefully reach out to lay a hand on the iron shoot. The shadows swirl around it in menacing tendrils and for a moment, it almost seems like they’re considering whether to try to swallow up my hand too. Then they part, allowing my fingers to make contact with the metal. I press on it magically, forcing it back on itself. Slowly the shoot begins to retract, sinking back into the ground. The body shifts and slumps as the iron withdraws, but I keep my eyes on the grass, until the last, blood-stained inch of iron disappears beneath it. When it does, the shadows behave as they did in Interra after their host died—they retreat, drifting down the street.
Something nudges my back, and I turn to see Parsley has followed me where the fae can’t. He snuffles my shoulder, and I put my palm to his flank, feeling the warm sturdiness of him.
“Thanks, Parse,” I murmur, glad for the support during this unpleasant task.
I rise and lead Parsley to the next body—he stands guard over me as I repeat the process. This time, I follow the shadows with my eyes as they drift down the street. They seem to be drawn to a square that sits at the end of the main road. From the sliver of it I can see, it looks like the shadows have gathered there, almost completely coating the ground. I shiver at the sight, but mount Parsley and ride back to the Unseelie.
“You truly are a uniquely gifted young woman, Lady Thorn,” Lisinder says, but his words sound double-edged, like he’s both impressed and unnerved by my abilities. I’ve gotten so used to being the easily dismissed underdog in Faerie; it’s disconcerting to be seen as someone who needs to be kept an eye on.
“That will get you further into the town,” I say. “But I may have to clear the path as we go. There’s a square ahead that looks particularly bad.”
We advance, and I find myself at the front of the army now, as we thin out into a column about a dozen across. I take note of the corpses as we move, riding ahead to free them of the iron. Each time I watch the shadows whip away towards the square as if blown there by a breeze.
The scout makes a chittering noise, his finger going to the hill behind the town.
“My Lord, there’s movement from the enemy.”
I look up to see the Seelie no longer standing like eerie sentinels, but marching down the hill towards the town. My heart judders against my ribs. Why have they decided to advance now?
“To the square,” Lisinder says, nodding to the swirl of shadows ahead. “We can fan out there. These streets are too narrow to launch an effective defense.”
We pick up speed, the animals we ride snorting and whinnying as they pick up on their riders’ unease. As we approach the square, the shadows begin to shift, retreating across the stone paving, and I feel like I might be sick.
It’s clear now why we haven’t seen more than a handful of the settlement’s residents, because as the darkness rolls back, it reveals a sea of bodies impaled on iron spikes. I hear Elias curse, and Destan whispers something beside me that sounds like a protection oath. The bodies fill the square like rows of scarecrows in a garden ripped straight from hell.
And there in the center, drawing the shadows to her, is Evanthe.