Chapter 25
I pull the clothes out of my pack, throwing them across the bed and staring at them. Making a decision, I tug a pair of riding breeches out of the pile and shove them back inside.
“What does one pack for a covert mission to overthrow a queen anyway?” I grumble.
“I think it’s safe to say you can go easy on the eveningwear,” Ruskin says from where he’s seated on the chaise. He has his sword laid across his lap, and he’s sharpening it with a stone. “But don’t tell Destan I said that.”
“Don’t tell Destan what?” our friend asks as he strides in, his own pack positively bulging.
“Nothing,” I say airily, and Ruskin throws me a grateful look.
“General and Lord Sunshard are by the outer gate by the way. They’ve been ready to go for at least an hour,” Destan says, neatly perching at the end of the chaise beside Ruskin.
I huff a stressed sigh and grab a few more items off the bed. “I’m nearly done.”
We’re leaving for the Seelie Kingdom today, armed with a theory about Evanthe’s weakness that just might solve everything. We’d agreed that even if Lisinder—who we’ve already said our goodbyes to—was now willing to stand by our side against Evanthe, getting to her would be the problem. If we went marching into the Seelie Kingdom with an army behind us, we’d be met with the fiercest of defenses, which would result in an inevitable pile of bodies on either side. And the High Fae who needed to be stopped, the ones who had positioned themselves closest to Evanthe, likely wouldn’t bother to join the fight themselves unless their queen commanded it. No, they’d use the Lower Fae as cannon fodder—sending to their deaths the ones who had done the least to deserve it. On the other hand, if we go in secret, and catch her by surprise? Then we might be in with a chance.
That is, I might be in with a chance. Because it’s riding on me to extract that shard of iron from her heart.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say, tying the pack shut and fastening my sword to my waist. But it’s a lie, of course. Now, facing the idea of leaving the Unseelie Kingdom, I’m coming to realize how comfortable I’ve started to feel here. There’s been a relative safety while we’ve sheltered behind its walls, under Lisinder’s protection, and now we’re throwing all that off to head into the lion’s den.
When we approach the gates of the Unseelie Court, another reason I’m reluctant to leave this place is standing there waiting for us. Elias, Jasand, Wistal, and Vaccia stand a few yards away from the Sunshards, the two groups eyeing each other with uneasy interest. Elias, particularly, seems to be squinting intensely at Halima’s mother.
“Thanks for the farewell party,” I say as we walk up to them, wanting to dispel whatever strange tension is in the air.
“We wanted to remind you to give them—what is the word you humans use?—oh yes, hell ,” says Vaccia.
“Yep, don’t come back until that witch is well and truly iron-free,” Jasand says enthusiastically, and then grimaces as he seems to remember Ruskin is there. “Sorry, Your Highness.”
“Apology accepted,” Ruskin says, and from the gleam in his eyes I think he’s enjoying how his tone makes Jasand squirm.
“Parsley will miss you,” Wistal says to me. “We’ll keep him ready for you, if the time comes for us to join you again in battle.” The cow-horned fae sounds almost hopeful.
I look up at Ruskin, a hopeful thought occurring to me too. “Are you sure we have to take the horses?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, a smile twitching at his lips. “The idea is to be as inconspicuous as possible. Something tells me riding into the kingdom on a bear might defeat that object.”
I try to hide my disappointment, looking away, only to see Elias still squinting at the Sunshards.
“Is something wrong, Elias?” I ask.
“I’m just wondering how you can be sure you’re doing the right thing, going back with them alone.”
“The Sunshards have sworn their fealty to me, Lord Elias,” Ruskin says. “It would be hard for them to hide deception in that vow.”
“I cannot argue with that, but are you certain they know what they’re doing? A mission like this is no easy undertaking.”
Ruskin’s expression turns cool. “General Sunshard received an Order of the Realm for her service at the Battle of Amethyn, and I can assure you that Seelie military honors are worth every much as Unseelie ones.”
Elias’s eyebrows shoot up. “She did, did she?”
He crosses the courtyard, making a beeline for the Seelie couple.
“What is he doing?” I ask Jasand sharply, but don’t wait for an answer. Terrified the idiot is about to start a fight over a centuries-old grudge, I rush after him.
Elias reaches them before I can catch up. I’m opening my mouth to pre-empt his words when he extends his hand to General Sunshard.
I gape, pulling my intervention up short.
“I hear you are a fellow veteran of Amethyn Valley, General,” Elias says gruffly.
Halima’s mother is obviously wary, but slowly takes his hand to shake it.
“I am. A terrible day for us all. I shall never forget it.”
Elias nods. “Me neither. It is hard to explain to anyone who was not there that day, but I can still hear the sounds of it and smell the flowers.”
I shudder, having caught a glimpse of that very battle via General Sunshard’s sword. Just the short moment I spent in the memory is still burned into my mind.
“Yes, the smell has stayed with me also,” General Sunshard says.
“From that day it was clear to me that there was no winning the war for anyone.”
“If only more had come to the same realization,” Lord Sunshard says sincerely.
Elias nods to him in acknowledgement.
“It is why we mustn’t allow that kind of destruction to return to our lands again,” says General Sunshard, lifting her chin to indicate where I and Ruskin stand behind Elias. He turns and takes us in.
“Yes, I hope you have all you need for the task ahead of you. I have seen the Seelie queen’s work firsthand, and admire your bravery in trying to stop her,” says Elias.
“She may target your kingdom again, if she believes that Eleanor Thorn and King Ruskin are still here,” the General points out.
Elias doesn’t question the General referring to Ruskin as king, perhaps assuming it’s a personal choice on her part, but he coughs at her use of my name. “We call her Lady Thorn around these parts.”
I tense and start to open my mouth to wave it off, but the Sunshards look slightly embarrassed.
“Apologies, my Lady,” says the General, meeting my eye and bowing slightly to me before her eyes slide to Ruskin, perhaps wondering exactly how official our relationship is for me to merit such a title.
“No problem,” I mutter weakly.
Elias nods his approval and continues. “Do not worry about the queen launching another attack on our territory. I shall have our spies patrolling the borderlands day and night for any whiff of trouble.”
The Sunshards murmur their approval.
Relieved we seem to have avoided a major incident, the others join us to finish our farewells. Over to the side, removed from the hubbub, I spot Jorna hovering over by the gates.
“Oh, stars, she’s not coming with us, is she?” I murmur to no one in particular.
Destan is beside me, and his brow furrows. “No. Yesterday she spun me some nonsense about Seelie’s iron clogging up her diviner’s eye. Apparently, that means she’ll be much more use if she stays here.”
Now he says it, the seer clearly isn’t dressed for a long journey, and she’s fidgeting nervously, seemingly unable to take her eyes off me. I raise an eyebrow at her, and she beckons me over.
“One moment please,” I tell our friends, and Ruskin follows me to the gates.
“Oh, I didn’t know if I’d catch you before you went,” she says, wringing her hands. “In fact, I was in two minds about telling you at all.”
I glance at Ruskin, but it’s clear he has no idea what she’s talking about either.
“But every ephor knows the future isn’t ours to influence, only to report,” she continues. I can think of a few times where Jorna hasn’t stuck to her own rules in that regard, but don’t bring them up.
“What is it?” I ask, growing impatient.
“I didn’t see the significance before because I didn’t know. But then I overheard the Unseelie talking and…” She fixes her watery gaze on us. “It’s true, then, that you are naminai ? Bonded?”
Ruskin takes a step in front of me as if to shield me, a move which seems instinctive, even though I don’t need protecting from Jorna.
At least I didn’t think I did, but she’s looking at us now with uncomfortable levels of concern.
“We are, yes,” Ruskin says, a hint of warning in his voice.
“Then that must be it. There’s a prophecy in the text of Ephor Novan about two figures bound by the deepest bond—one a male, one a woman. Forgive me, but for a while I thought perhaps it referred to the bond of mother and son, to Evanthe and Ruskin, though the wording was strange. A male and a woman, not male and female, as we would say of two fae.” Her eyes fall on me. “But of course the naminai is the deepest of bonds and so it seems clear now, this prophecy is about you, Eleanor Thorn.”
“Lady Thorn,” I correct her coldly. I don’t care about the title, not really, but I can feel her fear infecting me and I hate it. No wonder she set the Seelie Court pointing fingers and running scared. She’s got my stomach twisted in knots before she’s even told me what she thinks she’s foreseen.
“Lady Thorn, yes. But you see, that’s the problem,” she says mysteriously.
“For star’s sake, Ephor, you will spit it out now,” Ruskin snaps. “What does the prophecy say?”
She swallows. “That if you two remain together, it will destroy the very foundation of the Seelie Kingdom.”
We use a portal to get us close to the border, but from there we have to ride to the liaison point the Sunshards have organized with the resistance. As we ride, I increasingly wish we could somehow click our fingers and be outside the Seelie palace. Even though I’m dreading everything that might go wrong, I’d still rather be fighting for my life than sitting alone with my thoughts, dwelling on what Jorna told us. It bounces around in my head like a constant echo, repeating over and over.
Destroy the very foundation of Seelie.
Jorna had been spectacularly unhelpful at offering us any more insight on why that might be, or how me loving Ruskin was going to doom us all. All she’d say was that ephors aren’t meant to interpret prophecies beyond a certain level. In the end we’d decided we couldn’t waste time trying to work it out. The Sunshards and the resistance were waiting.
But now, riding through the lush greenery of Seelie, the idea I might somehow harm all of this only gets more disturbing. Jorna’s vision of Evanthe was clear as day. Do her other predictions hold the same weight? Does it matter that it wasn’t her prediction—not something viewed through her necklace—but something she interpreted from the scrolls?
Ruskin notices my silence as we ride. I’m at the back of the group, like I always am on these massive, terrifying horses I can never fully control. He holds his animal back to fall into step beside me.
“You’re worrying about it, aren’t you?” he says, admonishing me.
“I find it stranger that you’re not,” I say.
“And what about the prophecy she was shouting about before? The one she claimed proved you were a curse the realm was trying to purge from its veins?”
“That’s not what she claimed,” I say, reminding him. “She was vague—she let everyone else decide it applied to me. Besides, it’s like you said back then, the prophecy did have truth to it. ‘ When poison runs in the vein of the Seelie Kingdom, the magic of the realm will bring the hand of metal to purge it.’ It seems that I’m the hand of metal, and the iron is the poison I’m meant to purge. You’re High King, your magic is the realm’s magic, so it was you—the magic of the realm—who brough me to Seelie to fix the iron problem. All the iron problems.” I finish, a little breathless from my ranting.
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments and the lack of immediate counterargument makes me feel even worse, because as I spoke, I was convincing myself too. Jorna’s prophecies mean something.
“You mustn’t take the prophecy at face value,” he says.
“What is there to misunderstand?” I ask. “‘ If they remain joined by the deepest bond, the very foundation of Seelie will be destroyed.’ That sounds pretty damn definitive to me!” My horse whinnies and shakes its head when I raise my voice, so I’m careful to murmur my next words so the rest of the group doesn’t hear.
“She said ‘one male and one woman, moon and sun’—that’s us Ruskin. Our true names prove it.”
He reaches out to steady my horse, drawing it close so he can look me squarely in the eyes.
“What our true names prove is that we’re destined to be together. That is far clearer to me than some hazy prophecy, which could be read any number of ways.”
I look away. I want so badly for him to convince me, to find some argument that hasn’t occurred to me yet. But I don’t think it’s possible.
“Clear to you, maybe, but not to me. I don’t know if I’m willing to stake an entire kingdom on the idea that fate wants us to be together, Rus.”
He lets go of my horse’s reins, a stormy look crossing his features.
“But you’re willing to give up on us because of an old prophecy translated by some crackpot? What is this really about, Eleanor? Because it feels like you’re looking for reasons to back away, and I’m asking myself why.”
“What? Of course I don’t want the prophecy to mean anything, but we can’t ignore it. Why would you even say that?”
“I’m not a fool. I know that you aren’t happy about the recent changes that have made you more fae. I’ve seen your fear. I know you , Ella. You cannot hide from me the fact that you’re still not sure you want this—centuries of life with me.”
I gape at him, feeling tears prick my eyes…because he’s right, and I hate that I haven’t been able to keep this from him. Right now, I can see the pain flickering in his gaze, and it feels like a stab to my own chest. It kills me that he might think I don’t love him enough, don’t want him enough, to spend endless years with him when he’s already written into every facet of my being.
“It’s not like that, Rus,” I say, begging him to understand. “But we come from very different worlds. Faerie is so different from Styrland, and I still don’t know what my place in it all is supposed to be.”
His face softens a little. “Your place is with me, by my side,” he says, like that should solve everything.
“Yes, and that feels right, but what about me? What about who I am as an individual? Faerie is changing me, and I don’t like all of the changes. I don’t want it to turn me into someone brutal or unfeeling. It’s hard for me to…” I look for a way to describe what I mean. “To accept how close the darkness dances to the light. I don’t know if I want to accept it, at least for myself.”
Ruskin stares ahead, thinking. “Is that how you see me? Darkness close to the light? Or perhaps you think I swallow up the light?” He turns to me, and I know I can’t lie under his piercing gaze. More than that, I want to be honest with him. I’ve been carrying this around with me for too long, worrying I’d hurt him if I spoke the truth. I should have known he’d see it all anyway.
“I love all of you, Ruskin, and I accept that you’ve made choices I don’t agree with. But…” I search around for the words.
“But sometimes you fear you will discover something about me you cannot see past,” he finishes for me.
“No,” I say sharply, then bite my lip. “And yes. I can’t stop loving you, Rus, that’s impossible. On my final day in this life, in whatever realm I find myself in, I’ll still be in love with you. But I don’t know if I’ll still be by your side. Our worlds have asked very different things of us, and have shaped us into very different people. I wonder if there’s a limit to what I can live with. There should be, shouldn’t there?”
I watch him carefully, afraid of the effect my words might have.
“You’re right, there should be limits. Your strength to stand for what you believe is one of the things I love about you. But I cannot change my past, Ella.” He examines me, and I think he may have guessed where some of this is coming from. “Did you see something in my memories?” he asks.
I nod miserably, not quite able to meet his gaze as I tell him.
“It was the day you went back to the human court. After your mother had been attacked.”
Ruskin’s eyes brighten with recognition.
“Ah.”
I don’t think I need to remind him of the details—the bodies and the blood and his cold, awful rage—I can see it playing out on his face now. He doesn’t speak again for a long while. The group stops for rest and food with the pair of us still not having finished our conversation. But while Destan and the Sunshards exchange stories of Halima over lunch, Ruskin eventually draws me aside. He leads me down to the brook where we collect water, standing on the bank as the crystal-clear stream rushes by.
“I could show you what came before that memory,” he says, looking over the water. “Could play out for you the way I found my mother in that castle, treated no better than an animal—worse, tortured to within an inch of her life. You might understand more of the pain and the fear I felt. You might comprehend how badly I wanted to make sure the humans couldn’t do that to anyone I loved ever again. But it wouldn’t erase that day.”
I ask the question I’ve been most afraid to ask. “And if you were to live through it again tomorrow, would you do the same?”
“You mean, if it were you I found in that castle?”
I nod.
He considers this, staring at the water so hard I think he might be trying to part it.
“I don’t think so. I have never enjoyed killing, but at the time, it seemed to be the only way to keep greater evils at bay. My perspective is different now.” He meets my gaze. “ You have changed me too, Ella. What I once thought was necessary and inevitable has been turned upside down.”
It’s not a firm “no,” but maybe that’s too much to ask. I think of who he was back then, in the memory I saw. Young and grief-stricken and furious, with no rulebook for how to handle those feelings in anything but the most extreme way. What did he do other than what every fae would have expected? He would probably have been praised by everyone for the way he dealt with the king. Even in the Unseelie Court, which seemed so much warmer and more sincere to me than the Seelie, no one would have shied away from the violence he showed. It isn’t fair to expect him to have started living up to my standards centuries before he had any idea that I existed.
All I can do was make it clear where I stand now, where I draw the lines—what I won’t be able tolerate from him ever again. But I’ve done that already, haven’t I? If he crosses the line, he knows I’ll walk away, even if it breaks my heart to do it. So the only question is whether the past, on its own, is enough to make me leave—whether I’m so sure that he’s still violent and remorseless that there’s no point in waiting, since that side of him is bound to come out again sooner or later. Is that what I believe? Or is the Ruskin I know, the Ruskin I love, someone I can trust?
I don’t want to let his past define him, and I won’t let my fears define me. Until and unless he proves me wrong, my place is here at his side.
I step closer and take his hand.