Apparently, I wasn’t the only one going nuts.
“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE,” Ironhorse announced one day—night?—as we lounged in the library, a red-carpeted room with a stone fireplace and bookshelves that soared to the ceiling. With an impressive collection of novels and mostly fashion magazines at my fingertips, I managed to keep myself entertained during the long hours that we waited for Leanansidhe’s spies to turn something up. Today, I was curled on the couch with King’s The Dark Tower series, but it was difficult to concentrate with a restless, impatient Iron faery in the same room. Puck had vanished earlier, probably tormenting the staff or getting into some kind of trouble, and Grimalkin was with Leanansidhe, swapping favors and gossip, which left me alone with Ironhorse, who was getting on my last nerve. He was never still. Even in a human body, he acted like a flighty racehorse, pacing the room and tossing his head so that his dreadlocks clanked against his shoulders. I noticed that even though he wore boots, he still left hoof-shaped burn marks in the carpet, before the glamour of the mansion could smooth it out again.
“PRINCESS,” he said, coming around the couch to kneel in front of me, “WE MUST ACT SOON. THE SCEPTER IS GETTING FARTHER AND FARTHER AWAY, WHILE WE SIT HERE AND DO NOTHING. HOW CAN WE TRUST THIS LEANANSIDHE? WHAT IF SHE IS KEEPING US HERE BECAUSE SHE WANTS THE SCEPTER FOR HERSEL—?”
“Shh! Ironhorse, be quiet,” I hissed, and he immediately fell silent, looking as contrite as his expressionless face would allow. “You can’t say those things out loud. She could hear you, or her spies could rat us out. I’m pretty sure she has them watching our every move.” A quick glance around the library revealed nothing, but I could still feel eyes on me, peering unseen from cracks and shadows. “She already has it in for all Iron fey. Don’t add to it.”
“MY APOLOGIES, PRINCESS.” Ironhorse bowed his head. “I CANNOT ABIDE THIS WAITING. I FEEL AS IF I SHOULD BE DOING SOMETHING, BUT I AM USELESS TO YOU HERE.”
“I know how you feel,” I told him, placing a hand on his bulky arm. His skin was hot to the touch, and the tendons beneath were like solid steel. “I want to get out of here, too. But we have to be patient. Puck and Grim are out there—they’ll let us know if anything turns up or if we have to leave.”
He looked unhappy, but nodded. I sighed with relief and hoped Leanansidhe’s spies found something soon, before Ironhorse started tearing down the walls.
The door banged open, and we both jumped, but it was only a human, the scruffy piano player we’d seen when we first came to the mansion. He ambled into the room, blank eyes scanning the floor, until they spotted me. With an empty smile, he stumbled forward, but stopped when he saw the huge Iron faery kneeling in front of me.
Ironhorse rose with a growl, but I smacked his arm, wincing as the rock-hard bicep bruised my knuckles. “It’s all right,” I told him when he gave me a puzzled look. “I don’t think he’ll hurt me. He looks pretty harmless.”
Ironhorse gave the human a suspicious glare and snorted. “IF YOU NEED ME…”
“I’ll yell.”
He nodded, shot the man one last dark look, and retreated to the other side of the room to glower at us.
With Ironhorse at a distance, the man seemed to relax. He inched up to the couch and perched on the edge, staring at me curiously. I smiled at him over my book. He seemed much calmer now, not so crazy. His eyes were clear, though the way he stared at me, unblinking, was making me a bit uncomfortable.
“Hi,” I greeted, squirming a bit under that unrelenting gaze. “You’re Charles, aren’t you? I heard your playing earlier. You’re really good.”
He gave me a confused frown, tilting his head. “You heard me…play?” he murmured, his voice surprisingly clear and deep. “I don’t…remember that.”
I nodded. “In the foyer. When we first came here. You were playing for Leanansidhe and we heard the end of it.”
“I don’t remember,” he said again, scratching his head. “I don’t remember a lot of things.” He blinked and looked up at me, suddenly contemplative. “But…I remember you. Isn’t that strange?”
I glanced at Ironhorse, hovering in the corner and pretending not to listen to us. “How long have you been here, Charles?”
He frowned, scrunching his forehead. His face, though lined and worn, was curiously childlike. “I…I’ve always been here.”