The sharp tang of metal filled the air, and the circle of curious onlookers leaped back with cries of horror. The Thornguard’s entire hand was blackened and shriveled, the skin flaking off like ash. And on his long, gnarled finger, the iron ring gleamed brightly against the withered flesh.
“There!” Puck snapped, throwing the arm down and stepping away. “That proof enough for you? Every one of these bastards has one of those rings on, and it’s not a fashion statement. If you want more proof, check the brambles at the top of the hill. We left this one alive to explain his little coup ambitions to his queen.”
Mab turned her cold, cold gaze on the Thornguard, who cringed and started babbling.
“My queen, I can explain. Rowan ordered us to. I was acting on his command. He said it was the only way to save us. Please, I never wanted to…please, no!”
Mab gestured. There was a flash of blue light, and ice covered the guard, encasing him in frozen crystal. He drew a breath for one last scream, but the ice closed over his face and smothered it. I shivered and looked away.
“He will tell me everything later.” Mab smiled coldly, speaking more to herself than to us. “Oh, yes. He will be begging to tell me.” She looked up, her eyes as terrible as her voice. “Where is Rowan?”
As the crowds began muttering and looking around, I glanced over at the dead wyvern lying several yards away, smoke still curling from its open mouth. I shivered and turned away, already knowing the answer. Rowan was gone. They wouldn’t find him in the Nevernever; he would flee to the Iron fey, continuing his quest to become like them.
After a long moment, it became clear that Rowan was no longer on the field. “Lady Mab,” Oberon said, drawing himself up. “In light of this newest revelation, I propose a temporary truce. If the Iron King does plan to attack us, I’d prefer to meet him with my forces strong and ready. We will speak on this later, but for now I will be taking my people back to Arcadia. Meghan, Goodfellow.” He nodded to us stiffly. “Come.”
I looked at Ash, and he gave me a faint smile. I saw the relief on his face. But Mab wasn’t about to let me go just yet. “Not so fast, my dear Oberon,” she purred, and the smug satisfaction in her voice made my skin crawl. “I believe you are for getting something. The laws of our people apply to your daughter, as well. She must answer for turning my son against me.” Mab pointed the scepter at me as angry murmurs went through the crowd. “She must be punished for tricking him into helping her escape Tir Na Nog.”
“That wasn’t Meghan’s decision.” Ash’s deep voice cut through the muttering. I looked at him sharply and shook my head, but he ignored me. “It was mine. I made the choice. She had nothing to do with it.”
Mab turned to him, and her gaze softened. Smiling, she crooked a finger, and he approached at once, never wavering, though his hands were clenched at his sides. “Ash,” Mab crooned as he drew near. “My poor boy. Rowan told me what happened between the two of you, but I know you had your reasons. Why would you betray me?”
“I love her.”
Softly, and without hesitation, as if he’d already made up his mind. My heart turned over and I gasped, but it was lost in the ripple of horror and disbelief that went through the crowd. Whispers and muttering filled the air; some faeries snarled and hissed, baring their teeth, as if they wanted to mob Ash, but kept their distance from the queen.
Mab didn’t look surprised, though the smile curling her lips was as cold and cruel as a blade. “You love her. The half-breed daughter of the Summer lord.”
“Yes.”
I ached for him, my stomach twisting painfully. He looked so desolate standing there alone, facing a mad queen and several thousand angry fey. His voice was flat and resigned, as if he’d been pushed into a corner and had given up, not caring what happened next. I started to go to him, but Puck grabbed my arm, his green eyes solemn as he shook his head.
“Ash.” Mab placed a palm on his cheek. “You’re confused. I can see it in your eyes. You didn’t want this, did you? Not after Ariella.” Ash didn’t reply, and Mab drew back, regarding him intently. “You know what comes next, don’t you?”
Ash nodded once. “I swear an oath,” he whispered, “never to see her again, never to speak to her again, to sever all relationships and return to the Winter Court.”
“Yes,” Mab whispered back, and a sick despair tore at my heart. If Ash spoke those words, it would be over. A faery couldn’t break a promise, even if he wanted to. “Swear the oath,” Mab continued, “and all is forgiven. You can come back to Tir Na Nog. Return to the palace, and take your place as heir to the throne. Sage is gone, and Rowan is dead to me.” Mab placed a kiss on Ash’s cheek and stepped back. “You are the last prince of Winter. It is time to come home.”
“I…” For the first time, Ash hesitated. His gaze met mine, bright and anguished, begging forgiveness. I choked on a sob and turned away, my throat aching with misery, not wanting to hear the words that would take him from me forever.