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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.

Chapter 35

“Iwas having the most wonderful dream.” I sigh, leaning back into the cloud-soft mattress.