“No.” The red in his eyes dimmed to tiny pinpricks, and his voice dropped to a whisper. I had to strain to hear him. “It was…an honor…” He sighed one last time, as the tiny spots of light flickered once, twice. “…my queen.” And he was gone.
I closed my eyes and let the tears come. For Ironhorse, who had never wavered, never once compromised his beliefs or convictions. Who had been an enemy, but chose to become an ally, a guardian and, ultimately, a friend. I knelt on the cold tile and sobbed, unembarrassed, as Puck and Ash looked on gravely, until the faint rays of dawn began seeping through the broken skylights.
“Meghan.” Ash’s quiet voice broke through my grieving. “We should go.” His tone was gentle but unrelenting. “The Iron King’s army is ready to march. We have to return the scepter. There’s not much time left.”
I sat up and wiped my eyes, cursing the damned faeries and their eternal war. It seemed there was never enough time. Time to dance, or talk, or laugh, or even mourn the passing of a friend. Slipping off my corsage, I laid it on Ironhorse’s cold metal shoulder, wanting him to have something natural and beautiful in this lifeless place. Goodbye, Ironhorse. Ash held out a hand, and I let him pull me to my feet.
“Where to now?” I sniffled.
“The Reaping Fields,” answered a familiar voice, and Grimalkin appeared, perched several feet away on a cardboard box. He gingerly batted a metal bug off the surface, where it pinged to the floor, before continuing. “All the major battles between the courts have been fought on those plains. If I were looking for the armies of Summer and Winter, that is where I would go.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I did not say I was sure, human.” Grimalkin twitched his whiskers at me. “I only said that is where I would look. Also, I am not coming with you.”
Somehow, this didn’t surprise me. “Why not? Where are you going this time?”
“Back to Leanansidhe’s.” Grimalkin yawned and stretched, arching his tail over his back. “Now that we are done here, I will inform her that Virus is dead, and that the scepter is on its way back to the Winter Court. I am sure she will want to hear about your success.” The cat turned, waving his tail in farewell. “Until next time, human.”
“Grim, wait.”
He paused, looking back with unblinking golden eyes.
“What did Ironhorse promise you, that made you come along?”
He flicked his tail. “It is not for you to know, human,” he replied, his voice low and solemn. “Perhaps you will find out, someday. Oh, and if you do make it to Reaping Field, look for a friend of mine. He still owes me a favor. I believe you have met him before.” And with that cryptic message, he leaped off the box and wove gracefully through the scattered hordes of fey and metal bugs. Trotting behind a beam, he disappeared.
I looked at the boys. “How will we get to Reaping Field?”
Ash held up the scepter. It throbbed with icy blue light, sparkling like it was made of crystal, as I’d first seen it back in Tir Na Nog. “I’ll use the scepter to open a trod,” he murmured, turning away. “Stand back.”
The scepter flared, filling the room with cold, making my breath steam. The air around us shimmered, as though a veil had been dropped over everything. A hazy circle opened up in front of Ash; beyond it, I saw trees and earth and the foggy twilight of the wyldwood.
“Go,” Ash told us, his voice slightly strained.
“Come on, Princess. This is our stop.” Puck gestured at the portal, waiting for me to go through. I turned and cast one final look at Ironhorse’s body, lying cold on the cement, and blinked back tears.
Thank you, I told him silently, and stepped through the circle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Reaping Fields
The wyldwood was in chaos. Wind and hail whipped around me as I stumbled off the trod, screaming through the branches and pelting me with shards of ice. Green lightning streaked overhead, slashing through massive clouds that roiled and churned above us, shaking branches and stirring debris into violent whirlwinds. Gouts of snow intermingled with the rain, gathering in mounds and drifts and then scattered by the wind. A violet-skinned piskie went hurtling by, caught in a savage tailspin, until she vanished into the trees.
“Dammit.” Puck appeared behind me, crimson hair flying in all directions. He had to shout to be heard. “They started the war without us. I had an invitation, too.”
Ash stepped through the circle, and it closed behind him. “Reaping Field is close.” He raised his head to the wind, closing his eyes, and his brow furrowed. “The fighting is well underway. I can smell the blood. Follow me.”