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“Their weapons are cold iron,” one of the other guards warns us.

“Oh, we know,” I say, with a grim smile.

Kellspring’s guess was right. As the orchard comes into view, Gapir goes ahead as a scout—as the smallest among us, he’s also the quietest—he returns confirming that Albrecht’s men, who are clearly identifiable by the crest on their armor, have the High Fae and the remaining servants crowded inside, forming a tight perimeter around it.

“The fae in there outnumber the humans five to one,” he whispers. “But the humans have their iron weapons trained on them.” He shudders. “The place stinks of it.”

“Not for long,” I say.

I lead the way, concentration pulled taut as the humans and their captives come into view. I need to make sure my magic is ready at my fingertips, but even with my focus, I notice how tired and pale many of the fae look.

“Drop your weapons, please,” I say, making the Styrlanders jump and whirl around to face me. “Or I’ll have to do it for you.” One man, wearing an insignia that indicates he’s of higher rank than the others, takes a step forward. His eyes widen a fraction as he takes us in, yet he doesn’t waver when he points his sword towards me.

“Your magic will not work on our weapons, fae,” he glowers before signaling to a soldier. The man grabs the fae nearest him—a young High Fae lady—and holds his sword to her throat.

Tears spring from her terrified eyes, and her face drains of any remaining color as she tries to scrabble at the soldier’s arm, but the iron has made her weak.

“Please,” she begs, her throat choked by a rising sob, but I hold my ground. An off note in the commander’s voice tells me this might be running on bravado rather than true conviction. I suspect it even more when he launches into a series of threats.

“Our king has uncovered your secrets. We know your weakness, and you will bow to His Majesty when he takes your kingdom, or you will feel the bite of our iron. If you beg, perhaps King Albrecht will let you unnatural creatures live as our slaves.” His face is twisted in an ugly snarl, but I think he’s just trying to intimidate us because he already feels at a disadvantage. I see the other soldiers fidgeting nervously, not sure whether they should be focused on the fae they’re guarding or us newcomers. It’s clear that they’re strangers in a strange land, and they don’t feel like they have control of the situation.

“Ah, but you see, that’s the problem,” I say, yanking the sword out of the commander’s hand with my magic and slowly levitate it towards me. The Styrlanders watch, frozen, as I reach my fingers out, wrapping them around the cold iron, before smiling at them all.

“I’m not fae.”

Chapter 30

There’s an almighty clattering and clanging as I throw every one of the Styrlanders’ weapons against the floor, then pull them across the ground and sling them out of the orchard. Almost immediately, I see several of the High Fae relax at the removal of its oppressive presence.

“Surrender,” I say. “And this doesn’t have to turn ugly.”

The commander takes a look at his men, each face wearing a different shade of fear. I imagine they were promised an easy victory, with the fae powerless against their cold iron. But now the element of surprise they used to take the palace is very much turning against them.

The commander throws his hands up, and his men follow suit. I don’t think the quick surrender is all thanks to my intimidation. One look at these humans tells me they don’t want to be here. I doubt they have any love for the fae—and who could really blame them? But that doesn’t mean they wanted to leave their whole world behind to take part in a conflict that has nothing to do with them. I struggle to believe Albrecht inspires enough loyalty to have them overlook that and happily risk their own safety.

“Bind them,” General Sunshard says to Zastel’s men, who get to work tying the soldiers’ hands behind them.

“Better yet, have them follow me,” Ruskin says, striding across the orchard. I catch his arm.

“What are you going to do?” I murmur.

“Throw them out of the monarch gate and shut the door,” he says. “We don’t need hostages right now. Frankly, they’ll get in the way.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” I ask, dropping my voice to a whisper. “The monarch gate won’t open for you anymore.”

He scowls. “Getting kicked off that stone is very inconvenient.”

He turns on his heels, beckoning Kellspring forward. “Would you lend me one of your trustworthy men, Captain, and Lord Sunshard, may I ask for your help too?”

The High Fae have barely moved from their seats, but I see some of them sharing confused or suspicious looks. This Ruskin is different, asking favors rather than giving orders, suggesting that his allies have a choice in the matter. Of course, Kellspring immediately supplies a tall guard and Lord Sunshard steps forward.

“Would you escort these humans back home through the common gate?” Ruskin asks. “I want them returned to the human realm unharmed. I’m sure our Low Fae friends would also lend us a few more bodies, if you think you need more numbers to keep the humans under control.”

Ecistan murmurs to Gapir, and they both nod, signaling for some of the resistance to go with the humans and High Fae. The Styrlanders look on edge, like they’re just waiting for this to turn into some kind of trap. No wonder, really. In their shoes, I wouldn’t believe it either, if I’d been told I had to attack the vicious fae in their own realm, and all I got for it was being sent home. It’s not what anyone expected—not the humans…or the fae.

And that’s a problem for the others.

“You’re just going to let them go?” asks an appalled voice. I turn to the speaker: Lady Petra Wildplume, a High Fae I’ve had a run-in with before, when she accused me of letting her son die in the iron attacks.