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“Yes, my love,” Ruskin says, brushing my hair back from my face. “We can be together, forever.”

The rush of emotions I feel is so confusing, I do the only thing I know will soothe me—I cling to Ruskin, kissing him until he fills my senses. I want the way his skin moves against mine, the way he smells and tastes, to be the only thing I have room to think about.

But even that relief can only last so long. We make love, and afterwards we both sleep, but while Ruskin breathes peacefully beside me, I awake every few hours. My nightmares haunt me with images of the blood-soaked throne room I saw in Ruskin’s memory and the spray of crimson as my own hands snuff out fae lives with ease.

I love Ruskin with all my being. I couldn’t stop loving him any more than I could stop breathing. Part of me is filled only with bliss when I think that I could spend the rest of my years—hundreds and hundreds of them—by his side. Perhaps no number of centuries would be enough.

But he is not the only thing that comes with accepting a life in Faerie—life as a fae, or whatever strange fae hybrid I’ve become. It also comes with shadow and blood. Styrland may be brutal in its own way at times, but it’s my home…isn’t it? I look over at Ruskin, knowing that he’s become my home too. It feels all too possible that I’ll be pulled between the two until I’m left in pieces, not unlike the bodies that fill my dreams.

Chapter 24

“When did they get here?”

“An hour ago.”

“And you waited until now to get us?” I ask, turning a corner as Jasand and Elias lead Ruskin and me down the next corridor.

“You were busy, and we needed to make sure they didn’t have any nasty little gifts from Evanthe hidden up their sleeves,” Jasand says. He and Elias seem to have replaced Pyromey as the heads of Lisinder’s security. It says a lot about Pyromey that it takes two excellent warriors to do the job she did alone.

“They’re right,” Ruskin says. “We couldn’t forgo our meeting with King Lisinder, and these visitors could very well be hostile.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” I say grimly.

We’ve been in discussions the last few days with Lisinder and the rest of the king’s council, turning over ways to stop Evanthe without sacrificing huge numbers of lives in either court. It’s a problem we’ve not found a solution to yet, but now we have news that three Seelie High Fae have arrived seeking an audience with us. I sense Ruskin is as eager as I am to discover what this is about. Apparently, all the Seelie would tell Elias and Jasand was that they weren’t here to harm either of us.

When we walk into the chamber, my eyes land first on the woman standing nearest the door. There’s something instantly familiar about her. She’s very tall, even for a High Fae, with hairlike catkins…

“General Sunshard,” Ruskin says, unable to hide his surprise. He turns to the man at her side, whose skin is speckled with patches that look like tree bark. “Lord Sunshard.” Ruskin sketches a small bow, and I interrupt my staring to curtsey.

Halima’s parents. I should’ve realized even before Ruskin named them. They’re imposing like Halima, warriors through and through, with the same serious sets of mouths, but I can also see the spark in their eyes—a light that hasn’t gone out despite the wars they’ve fought, the terrible things they’ve seen, the losses they’ve suffered.

“Your Highness,” the couple say almost in unison, offering precise bows in return. Halima’s mother turns to me. “You must be Eleanor Thorn,” she says. “Halima wrote of you.”

“She did?” I ask, and can’t feel embarrassed about the quaver in my voice. Seeing her parents here forces me to relive Halima’s death all over again, and the pain lances through me like it happened just yesterday.

“Yes, she said you were a quick learner. Impressive, for a human.”

I smile at the blunt assessment. That’s exactly how Halima would’ve put it.

“General, Lord Sunshard,” Ruskin looks grim. “I do not know if you are aware…” It only occurs to me now they might not have heard about Halima’s fate. My hand goes to my mouth, but Halima’s mother holds up her own hand.

“We are aware of our daughter’s death, Your Highness. We received the news from friends at court, saying she’d been killed in a skirmish when you fled the palace. We only knew that the court had been suffering under some kind of curse—Halima omitted some details from her letters for security reasons, naturally—and assumed your leaving was related. We traveled from our home in the north to lay our daughter’s body to rest, only to find Queen Evanthe had taken command of the court and, apparently, the iron that plagued it.”

“She’s the one who brought the iron in the first place,” I blurt out, hating the idea of Halima’s parents believing Evanthe’s lies. “She tried to kill Ruskin, and Halima—” I suck in a sob, “Halima died protecting us and the court.”

“We suspected as much,” says Lord Sunshard. He seems a little softer than his wife, his voice almost gentle as he speaks of his daughter. “They told us that Halima had chosen to help Prince Ruskin steal the throne from his mother, but we knew this could only be a twisted version of what happened. Halima swore to protect the Seelie Court; she would have only moved against its ruler if she knew they threatened its well-being.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ruskin says. “But you are right. She died as she would’ve wanted to, performing her duty, protecting what was precious to her. I can only offer my deepest regrets that I did not protect her. She was the finest swordswoman in the kingdom, and a dear friend.”

Lord Sunshard’s eyes gleam with emotion, and Halima’s mother puts her hand to where the pommel of her sword would usually sit. They’ve had their weapons taken away, no doubt by Jasand and Elias, but I recognize the gesture as one Halima would also always make in times where she needed comfort. I look away, not quite able to bear seeing it again.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” General Sunshard says. “We suspected that we were not among allies at court, and once we heard that you had appeared beside the Unseelie king in battle, we decided we must continue our daughter’s work and come east to find you.”

“What news from the Seelie Court, friends?” Ruskin asks, and I can hear the tense note in his voice. He’s eager to know what Evanthe has been up to, but, like me, also fears the answer.

“Queen Evanthe claims that she visited Interra, the space between realms, when she fought you, and there gained the ability to control the iron that’s been blighting the court. Iron that she attributes to you, Eleanor Thorn, and Prince Ruskin’s blind spot when it comes to your…unnatural ways.”

I can easily imagine how Evanthe would weave her deception—technically, the iron is there in Faerie because of me. Evanthe would never have been able to wreak this devastation if I hadn’t woken her, and if Ruskin hadn’t asked me to use my “unnatural” magic to do it.