“Are you all right?” Ash murmured, releasing me. “Did they hurt you?”
I was shaking. That exhilarating rush of power was gone; now I felt completely drained. “No,” I whispered, moving away. “I’m all right.” I might’ve cried, but I had no more tears left in me. My knees trembled and I stumbled, putting a hand against a tree to steady myself.
Ash moved closer. Catching my wrist, he gently pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. I was startled, but only for a moment. Sniffling, I closed my eyes and buried my face in his chest, letting all the fear and anger seep away under his touch. I heard his rapid heartbeat, and felt the chill prickling my skin through his shirt. Strangely, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all.
We stood like that for a long moment. Ash didn’t speak, didn’t ask questions, didn’t do anything but hold me. I sighed and relaxed into him, and for a little while, everything was okay. Ethan and Puck still lingered in the back of my mind, but for now, this was good. This was enough.
Then I made a stupid mistake and looked up at him.
His eyes met mine, and for a moment, his face was open and vulnerable in the moonlight. I caught a hint of wonder there as we stared at each other. Slowly, he leaned forward. I caught my breath, a tiny gasp escaping.
He stiffened, and his expression shuttered closed, eyes going hard and frosty.
Pushing me away, he stepped back, and my heart sank. Ash looked into the trees, the shadows, the pond, anywhere but at me. Wanting to reclaim that lost moment, I reached for him, but he slid away.
“This is getting old,” he said in a voice that matched his eyes. He crossed his arms and stepped away, putting even more distance between us. “I’m not here to play nursemaid, princess. Perhaps you shouldn’t go wandering about on your own. I wouldn’t want you damaged before you ever reached the Unseelie Court.”
My cheeks burned, and I clenched my fists. The memory of being humiliated in the cafeteria, so long ago, rose to my mind to taunt me. “That’s all I am to you, isn’t it?” I snarled at him. “Your chance to gain favor from your queen. That’s all you care about.”
“Yes,” he replied calmly, infuriating me even more. “I’ve never pretended anything else. You knew my motivations from the beginning.”
Angry tears stung my eyes. I thought I was all cried out, but I was wrong. “Bastard,” I hissed. “Puck was right about you.”
He smiled coldly. “Maybe you should ask Puck why I’ve vowed to kill him someday,” he said, eyes glinting. “See if he has the courage to tell you that bit of history between us.” He smirked and crossed his arms. “That is, if he ever wakes up.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but with a rustle of leaves, two dryads melted out of a nearby trunk. Ash faded into the darkness as they approached, leaving me with my angry words unsaid. I fisted my hands, wanting to smack the arrogance right off his perfect face. I turned and kicked a log instead.
The dryads bowed to me, unconcerned with my mild temper tantrum.
“Meghan Chase, the Elder will see you now.”
I FOLLOWED THEM TO THE BASE of a single oak tree, its branches so draped in moss, it looked like it was hung with moldy curtains. Ash and Grimalkin were already there, though Ash didn’t even look my way as I approached. I glared at him, but he continued to ignore me. With the cat on one side and the Winter prince flanking the other, I stepped beneath the boughs of the huge oak and waited.
The bark rippled, and an ancient woman stepped out of the tree. Her skin flaked, like wrinkled bark, and her long hair was the brownish-green of old moss. She was stooped and bent, covered in a robe of lichens that shivered with thousands of insects and spiders. Her face resembled a walnut, lined and wrinkled, and when she moved, her joints creaked like branches in the wind. But her beady eyes were sharp and clear as she looked me over and beckoned with one gnarled, twiggy hand.
“Come closer, child,” she whispered, her voice rustling like dry leaves. I swallowed and moved forward, until I could see the insects boring into her skin, smell the earthy scent of her. “Yes, you are the daughter of Oberon, the one whom the wind whispers about. I know why you are here. You seek the one called the Iron King, yes? You wish to find the entrance into his realm.”
“Yes,” I murmured. “I’m looking for my brother. Machina kidnapped him, and I’m going to get him back.”
“As you are, you will not be able to save him,” the Elder told me, and my stomach dropped to my toes. “The Iron King waits for you in his lair of steel. He knows you are coming, and you will not be able to stop him. No weapon forged by mortal or fey can harm the Iron King. He fears nothing.”