Chapter 34
T he grass of the battlefield isn’t visible anymore, covered by layer upon layer of fallen iron armor. The enchanted soldiers, no longer animated by Evanthe’s power, fell where they stood. All that’s left is a sea of metal forged with blood and black magic, of no use to anyone. Ruskin and I dismount from Parsley standing at the edge of the scene, watching as the Unseelie and Seelie collect their dead. I can see from here the healers of both courts walking among them, searching for anyone they can still save.
There’s a shout hailing us as three horses ride up—Elias and Jasand, flanking Lisinder. The Unseelie king has a fresh scar above his eye and a bandage around his middle, but he looks strong and untroubled as he halts his horse.
“They collapsed only fifteen minutes ago.” He nods to the empty suits of armor. “I take it Queen Evanthe is no more?”
I look to Ruskin, knowing it’s his loss to acknowledge.
“My mother is dead,” Ruskin says. “But in truth, she died long ago. The woman slain on the banks of Irnua was someone else entirely.” He straightens, as if expecting an argument from his uncle. But the Unseelie king simply nods.
“The real Queen Evanthe, like my brother, would be proud of what we did today. Of how two courts came together to save the Faerie realm.”
“Once upon a time, collaboration between the courts like this was all they wanted,” Ruskin says.
“And they would be proud of their son too, Nephew,” Lisinder continues, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it before.
Ruskin bows his head. “Thank you, Uncle, for everything.”
Elias leans in to murmur to his king.
“Indeed,” Lisinder says. “There is much to do, including beginning to dispose of all this.” He gestures to the cold iron.
“This battlefield is on Seelie territory,” Ruskin says with a note of surprise. “So you needn’t worry about that.”
“Come, Nephew.” Lisinder offers us a smile that’s almost teasing. “I thought we were past all that silliness. I’m sure most of these soldiers were slain by our brave warriors, and we Unseelie clear up our messes.”
“Speaking of which,” I say sternly, looking at Ruskin’s leg. “You need that fixed sooner rather than later.”
Elias escorts us across the battlefield to the healers’ tents, where Atlana meets us, whisking Ruskin away to examine his leg.
“You can keep him,” Elias says as I dismount Parsley. My heart swells.
“Really?” I gasp.
He shrugs. “They won’t usually take new riders. He’s already yours, really.”
I thank him.
“And will you say goodbye to Vaccia for me? And send my condolences,” I say.
He nods. “We will have a holding feast tonight that will wake the very mountains of Unseelie.”
I smile, despite the ache in my chest when I think about Maidar, Wistal, Kaline, Pyromey, Halima. Maidar was right when he said that eventually there are just too many people to hold. And still, somehow, your heart keeps finding room for more.
“I’m sorry to miss it,” I say truthfully.
Elias nods and offers me a low bow from his horse.
“Goodbye for now, Lady Thorn,” he says.
“Actually…” My smile widens, a warmth thawing some of the chill of my grief. “It’s Lady Dawnsong now.” It’s still so early that I’m not used to thinking about Ruskin as my husband . But when I do, it sends a delicious thrill through me, and I suddenly want to be near him again, the bond reaching out in yearning.
Elias’s eyebrows shoot up at first, and then he matches my smile. “Well then, may I offer my congratulations, Lady Dawnsong.” He bows even lower to me, and then winks before riding away.
I turn around, thinking I’ll go find Ruskin, only to see Dad emerging from a tent.
“Nora,” he says, pulling me into an embrace.
“Are you all right?” he asks, clutching my face between his hands.
“Yes, Dad,” I say, and know that for the most part, it’s true. “Are you all right?” I ask, thinking about all the pain and blood he must’ve seen in the last few hours. He steps back, looking down at his bloodstained apron.
“Yes, I am.” I must look doubtful, because he adds, “I mean it, Nora. Albrecht made me watch those people die, and I could do nothing to save them.” He holds his head higher, and I think the haunted look in his eyes might’ve faded just a touch. “Today there were people who needed my help, and I did save them. Come with me.”
He leads me back into the tent, past rows of fae testing out newly healed limbs, or else resting in cots. Dad proudly points out those he helped on the way. Ruskin sits at the end of the row, leg stretched out on one of the cots, as Atlana works on it. The sight of him renews the glow I felt when talking to Elias. General Sunshard is beside him, debriefing him on the state of the Seelie casualties.
“And then there’s the humans,” she says eventually, her face solemn.
“Prince Gawain?” I ask, my gut twisting at the memory of the Styrlanders fighting for their lives.
“He surrendered with his men partway through the battle, at Lord Destan’s prompting. Lord Destan says that you gave him permission to offer amnesty in return for laying down their weapons.”
“I did,” I say, confused by General Sunshard’s tone.
“With all due respect, Lady Dawnsong, you didn’t have the authority to issue that order. It is His Majesty who must decide what to do with them.”
My father crosses his arms, looking sternly at General Sunshard. “Prince Gawain is just a boy. He had no choice to do what his father told him, I’m sure.”
“And technically, I’m not king anymore,” Ruskin says with a shrug.
“You are the most direct living descendant of the royal line. You are a king, if not High King, whether your name is inscribed on the founding stone or not,” says General Sunshard cooly.
“Then Eleanor, as my wife, is queen, isn’t she?” Ruskin asks pointedly.
I shudder. After everything, I don’t think I like the idea of being Queen Dawnsong.
“Lady Eleanor or Lady Dawnsong will do fine, I think.”
General Sunshard looks between us, her eyebrows raised. “Forgive me, my Lord. I suppose in that sense, yes, Lady Eleanor’s order was a valid one.”
I share a look with Ruskin. We both know it would be impossible to blame a soldier like General Sunshard for clinging so hard to ranks and hierarchies. The same is probably true for many of the Seelie. But things will have to change. We’ve already made promises in that regard.
“Where are they now?” I ask.
“Lord Destan is guarding them with a few of the Low Fae contingents, just northwest of these tents.”
I look to Ruskin. I promised the humans safety in return for their surrender, and I don’t think he’ll make a liar out of me, but I want to hear him say it, just to be sure.
“ You should go speak with them,” Ruskin says to me. “Tell Prince Gawain that his father is dead and offer them safe passage home if they promise never to return to Faerie.”
The huddled band of humans is a pathetic sight. Their number so few, and they sit in a tight group, heads mostly bowed, surrounded by fae. I nod to Destan as I approach—grateful for the friend who’s done everything I ever asked of him, even when he didn’t understand it—then I stop in front of the young man wearing the royal insignia on his chest.
“Prince Gawain,” I say, curtseying to him and gesturing for the prince to rise to his feet.
“Eleanor Thorn,” he says, and there’s a murmur from a few of the Styrlanders when they recognize my name.
Gawain wears the same weary look I saw in the castle in Styrland, but his voice is steady, and he looks me confidently in the eye. I think he seems unbroken, which is more than I can say for many of the soldiers with him, wearing stunned looks on their blood-stained faces. Some of them look even younger than Gawain.
“I must inform you that your father, King Albrecht of Styrland, is dead. Killed in battle,” I say. It’s more or less true.
Prince Gawain nods, as if he expected this. His expression is a strange one. There’s no trace of sadness there, though I think I detect some relief.
“What will be the fate of my soldiers?” he asks, showing me that his priorities are in the right place.
“My husband, King Ruskin Dawnsong of the Seelie Kingdom, accepts your surrender,” I say. “And offers you the opportunity to travel safely home, unharmed, if you agree to never return to the Faerie realm again, and to destroy the cold iron your father had made, including all record of how to create it.” It may not be possible to have cold iron go back to being a total secret, but we can certainly make it more difficult for any ill-intentioned Styrlander to get their hands on it.
Prince Gawain looks back down at his men, who are listening intently.
“That cursed metal has brought my people nothing but trouble,” he says, after a few short moments. “I accept those terms.”
“She’s lying!” a soldier shouts, trying to scrabble up onto his feet. “Don’t trust her, fae whore.” He spits at me, and I’m surprised at the way Gawain’s face suddenly turns thunderous.
“That is enough!” he barks. The soldier looks as surprised as I am at Gawain’s commanding tone. “Consider that an order from your king.”
The soldier throws me a hateful look, but obediently drops down onto his knee. “My King,” he murmurs.
The armor of the other soldiers clanks as they all begin to rise up one knee, ducking their heads and pledging themselves to their new ruler.
King Gawain turns back to me, offering a bow of his own. “Thank you…” He seems to be casting about for what to call me.
“Lady Eleanor,” I offer.
He signals for his men to stand as I step away to arrange their escort. I’m struck by the look of determination on his face, and the way the men easily fall in line behind him.
I suppose a lifetime of living with Albrecht has made him strong. That’s good, because this world—whether it’s the fae realm or human—can be a brutal one. I have seen things in Faerie I wish I could forget, but I’d also seen death and brutality a plenty before I ever set foot on fae soil. It was a human court who looked on, saying nothing, as Albrecht executed people for trying to feed their families. It was a human king who sent children to fight in his war. Even Evanthe’s madness was a product of human greed and cruelty. In a way, this all started with us. And no matter how “fae” in nature I may now have become, it’s clear to me that the fair folk don’t have a monopoly on cruelty.
If Gawain can live through that and come out of it untainted, perhaps he can tame some of the brutality that’s taken root in Styrland.
And as I look out across the battlefield, where Seelie and Unseelie are still working side by side, I think that maybe between us, Ruskin and I might do the same here.