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“Ella, what is it?” Ruskin asks, as my awareness returns to the edge of the field, surrounded by the Seelie.

He takes one look at my expression, and his face darkens even before I can answer. It’s a struggle to force the words out, but I manage to tell them about the iron soldiers—and how I watched Wistal fall.

“This must’ve been the real key to my mother’s and Albrecht’s alliance,” Ruskin says. “He hasn’t given her an army, he’s made her one.”

“We’re done for,” one of the High Fae lieutenant curses. “What’s more indestructible than an army that can’t bleed, that doesn’t need to eat or sleep? They have no weakness.”

“You’re wrong,” Destan says firmly. “Lady Thorn is their weakness. Isn’t that right?” He turns to me, and I’m bolstered by his words.

“Yes,” I agree. “Given their numbers, I’d say Evanthe’s spread herself thin. There won’t be much magic powering each one, so I should be able to take out big groups of them at a time.”

General Sunshard nods. “And meanwhile, we’ll work on drawing some of the heat to help the Unseelie.”

But as she speaks, I realize something. I was so distracted by the horror of the iron soldiers, I’d almost forgotten our initial plan.

“Evanthe’s not anywhere on the battlefield,” I say. “The army is a diversionary tactic. She’s keeping us all busy as she tries to open the portal. Defeating her soldiers won’t matter if we don’t find her in time.” I hear the panic in my voice.

Ruskin places a hand on my arm.

“I know. Leave that to me,” he says. “We can help our friends and still target her as planned.”

I nod weakly, wanting him to be right, because now I’m here I can’t face the idea of walking away from the Unseelie—to see more of our friends taken down like Wistal—because I’m too busy with Evanthe. I bunch my hands into fists, already imagining the feeling of crushing those soldiers with my magic.

The lieutenants return to their contingents, and I see some healers from the palace working to unpack equipment. I’m both comforted and sobered by the sight. They’ve come prepared for casualties.

At General Sunshard’s signal we ride on, down the south-eastern flank of the army, until we’re close enough to see the black abysses where the faces of the iron soldiers should be.

Ruskin dismounts and walks over to me, placing one hand on my leg and the other on my horse, stretching up to stare into my eyes.

“Show them what you’ve got, Iron Tamer,” he murmurs. I lean down and kiss him.

“You too,” I say, and he smirks before stepping back and transforming. His limbs lengthen, his skin darkens, becoming covered with thick, glossy fur, and moments later the huge black panther is stretching itself and yawning, exposing rows of sharp teeth in a red mouth.

The Seelie around us exclaim in surprise, drawing their horses back.

“It’s all right,” Destan calls to them. “His Majesty just picked up a few new tricks in the Unseelie Court.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Does he always have to be so dramatic about everything?”

I laugh despite myself, knowing Destan is trying to set me at ease. Ruskin must have overheard, because he gives Destan a withering look, growling lightly at him.

“Enough of that,” Destan says, pointing over Ruskin’s head. “Look.”

The cursed marionettes have at last taken notice of us now. A group of them breaks away, heading towards us. The Seelie draw their weapons, and I drop the leash holding back my magic.

It hits the soldiers like an invisible wave, crumpling their suits inwards and throwing them back against each other, going down like ninepins. The Seelie cheer, but while the iron soldiers may be down, they’re not out. Empty gauntlets crawl across the ground as if they’re possessed, and helmets creep forward. The Seelie descend upon them, protected by their own lead armor, striking and crushing the armor until it’s had all movement beaten out of it.

“We’ll be okay here,” I tell Ruskin. “Just find Evanthe.” He nods, then lopes away into the fray.

I don’t like to let him out of my sight in the midst of so much violence, but I don’t have time to worry about him. Our initial attack has attracted more iron soldiers. I lead the way, clearing a path through the battle. Dozens fall, but there’s still so many of them, and the occasional puppet slips through my net. I glance over my shoulder to see a Seelie being yanked from their horse. To my right someone screams when an iron sword pierces their lead armor. I push on, knowing I can’t help everyone.

Deeper into the fray, I see a group of Unseelie Low Fae have succeeded in breaking the front line of Evanthe’s forces. And their opponents look different.

Damn it. I curse as I spot pale, blood-spattered faces staring out of their helmets. Humans.

It appears Albrecht’s army has been forced to join the battle after all. Except as I search their ranks, I notice that—like Evanthe—the king is nowhere to be seen. Their battlefield leader is Prince Gawain, his face twisted with determination and fear as he grapples with an Unseelie. They shouldn’t be here—I can only assume Albrecht forced his son to lead his men, the coward—but I can’t intervene in this moment. Several roars of pain echo across the battlefield, and I see the iron soldiers streaming over the bodies of three bleeding ursinian, forcing their way through a gap in the Unseelie front line.

I urge my horse onwards, further into the chaos.

My heart thuds in my ears as I go, almost drowned out by the sound of metal puncturing metal and the thud of bodies hitting the ground. Only the screams and groans can tell me if it’s a person that’s fallen or one of Evanthe’s puppets. To add to the turmoil, I see that some parts of the battlefield seem to have collapsed, the earth having given way to reveal churned up pits of dirt and stone. Glancing down into one as my horse skirts it, I think I glimpse suits of armor buried under the earth and rocks.