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“You’re saying she carved out some of the evil in Interra and brought it back with her,” I say.

Destan shakes his head. “But how is she explaining any of this to the court? The Hunt might be bloodthirsty idiots, but even they would think twice about following her, knowing she was the one destroying the palace and putting them in danger all along. Wouldn’t they?”

We don’t have time to speculate over the answer, because Elias is riding towards us, his eyes on me.

“Lady Thorn,” he says, more formal than I’ve ever seen him.

“It’s cold iron,” I say, beating him to it. We all already knew it, but I understand that the Unseelie still had to confirm it for themselves.

“It is indeed,” says Elias grimly. “And as you say, you have some expertise in this area…”

I look out across the town, staring down the streets. The shadows seem to get thicker the deeper my gaze goes, a layer of darkness hovering over the ground like morning mist on a river.

Where are you?

This disturbing scene isn’t just for effect. Evanthe wanted us here. But I came here with a purpose too—to use my powers for good. Ruskin shifts behind me restlessly, as if he can read the direction of my thoughts, but he stays silent.

I urge Parsley forward, approaching Lisinder, and Ruskin follows not far behind.

“I presume this is the work of the iron curse you have spoken of,” Lisinder says, gesturing to the bodies. “You hoped she would not be able to access it from here.”

“I did, but I also prepared for the worst,” I say.

“Then the time has come to prove yourself, Lady Thorn. My soldiers can’t advance deeper into Cavalil with the iron present—we must assume that’s why Evanthe’s soldiers are keeping their distance too—but we must protect the town. Can you help us?”

I meet his expectant look, realizing how much I want to do right by this man who defended us against Evanthe.

“Give me a moment,” I say, dismounting from Parsley.

I can feel the Unseelie’s eyes burning into my back as I approach the nearest body. I think it might never stop amazing the fae, seeing me unaffected around a substance so toxic to them. I try not to focus on the face of the dead fae as I kneel beside him, but I can’t help but notice the amber shade of his eyes and the marble-smooth texture of his skin. The details force their way into my mind as I try to focus, and it takes me longer than it should to still the pool of power within me.

I carefully reach out to lay a hand on the iron shoot. The shadows swirl around it in menacing tendrils and for a moment, it almost seems like they’re considering whether to try to swallow up my hand too. Then they part, allowing my fingers to make contact with the metal. I press on it magically, forcing it back on itself. Slowly the shoot begins to retract, sinking back into the ground. The body shifts and slumps as the iron withdraws, but I keep my eyes on the grass, until the last, blood-stained inch of iron disappears beneath it. When it does, the shadows behave as they did in Interra after their host died—they retreat, drifting down the street.

Something nudges my back, and I turn to see Parsley has followed me where the fae can’t. He snuffles my shoulder, and I put my palm to his flank, feeling the warm sturdiness of him.

“Thanks, Parse,” I murmur, glad for the support during this unpleasant task.

I rise and lead Parsley to the next body—he stands guard over me as I repeat the process. This time, I follow the shadows with my eyes as they drift down the street. They seem to be drawn to a square that sits at the end of the main road. From the sliver of it I can see, it looks like the shadows have gathered there, almost completely coating the ground. I shiver at the sight, but mount Parsley and ride back to the Unseelie.

“You truly are a uniquely gifted young woman, Lady Thorn,” Lisinder says, but his words sound double-edged, like he’s both impressed and unnerved by my abilities. I’ve gotten so used to being the easily dismissed underdog in Faerie; it’s disconcerting to be seen as someone who needs to be kept an eye on.

“That will get you further into the town,” I say. “But I may have to clear the path as we go. There’s a square ahead that looks particularly bad.”

We advance, and I find myself at the front of the army now, as we thin out into a column about a dozen across. I take note of the corpses as we move, riding ahead to free them of the iron. Each time I watch the shadows whip away towards the square as if blown there by a breeze.

The scout makes a chittering noise, his finger going to the hill behind the town.

“My Lord, there’s movement from the enemy.”

I look up to see the Seelie no longer standing like eerie sentinels, but marching down the hill towards the town. My heart judders against my ribs. Why have they decided to advance now?

“To the square,” Lisinder says, nodding to the swirl of shadows ahead. “We can fan out there. These streets are too narrow to launch an effective defense.”

We pick up speed, the animals we ride snorting and whinnying as they pick up on their riders’ unease. As we approach the square, the shadows begin to shift, retreating across the stone paving, and I feel like I might be sick.

It’s clear now why we haven’t seen more than a handful of the settlement’s residents, because as the darkness rolls back, it reveals a sea of bodies impaled on iron spikes. I hear Elias curse, and Destan whispers something beside me that sounds like a protection oath. The bodies fill the square like rows of scarecrows in a garden ripped straight from hell.

And there in the center, drawing the shadows to her, is Evanthe.