Why did you tell Kierran he could go to Elysium this year?
The last thing we need is him picking a fight with a Winter gentry, or seducing someone in my father’s court. They’re already leery enough of him as it is.”
“He’s been asking to go for years,” I told her, swirling my cloak around my shoulders. “I think he’s old enough to see what it’s like. We can’t shelter him forever. He’s going to have to learn about the other courts, as prince of the Iron Realm.” Meghan glared at me a moment longer, then relented with a sigh. “Oh, fine. I know you’re right,” she said, giving me an exasperated smile. “It’s just…he still seems so young to me, still just a kid, getting into trouble. Where does the time go?” She crossed to the window, gazing out at Tir Na Nog. The sun was setting, and the huge clock tower in the very center of the city was silhouetted black against the evening sky.
“Twenty years, Ash,” she murmured. “It’s hard to believe it’s been more than twenty years since we beat the false king. It 316/387
feels like yesterday.”
For you, perhaps, I thought, glancing at the reflection in the mirror. Gray eyes in a worn, lined face stared back at me.
Wrinkles crouched under my eyes and at the corners of my mouth, marring my skin, and a scar traced its way from my left cheek to under my jaw, a trophy from a cockatrice hunt in the wyldwood. Lately, my temples had become touched with gray and my shoulder—the one that had taken the manticore sting—still ached, a dull, persistent throb, whenever it rained.
Twenty years had left its mark, and I was all too aware of the passing of time.
And Meghan, my beautiful, half-faery wife, was unchanged.
“The carriage is here,” Meghan announced, peering over the windowsill. “And there’s Kierran, waiting for us by the gate. I guess we should go.” She turned to me, a f licker of worry passing through her eyes. “Do you need help getting down the stairs?”
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“I’m fine,” I told her quietly. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right there.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded, and Meghan drew back, still worried. “All right, but I want you to call for a servant if you—”
“Meghan, I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, and she frowned at me. I forced a smile to soften the words. “Take Kierran on ahead. I’ll ride with Glitch and the guards. Just go. Please.” Her eyes f lashed, and for a moment I thought she would argue with me, slip into the firm, no-nonsense Iron Queen
persona that had everyone terrified. But after a pause, she simply nodded and left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Another Elysium. Another gathering of the courts, coming together to pretend they got along, when all they wanted was to rip each other into bloody strips. As a faery prince, I hadn’t liked Elysium, and as a human I despised it. Those who remembered me as Prince Ash—the cold, dangerous ice prince who, for centuries, demanded fear and awe and respect—saw 318/387
only a human now. A weak, crippled human who grew older and weaker every year, relying more and more on the protection of his queen. I saw the looks of hunger and pity and contempt that went around the courtyard when Meghan walked in with me limping beside her. I also didn’t miss the subtle looks of interest between the nobles of Summer and Winter; if I was the weakest link in the Iron Court, how could they use it to their advantage? Faery politics and power plays; they would never do anything that would force a head-on confrontation with the Iron Queen, and yet I hated being thought of as exploitable.
With a sigh, I reached for the cane sitting against the wall and pushed myself upright, taking a last glance in the mirror.
The black cloak partially hid the cane but could not quite conceal the limp or the stiffness of my right leg. I still carried my sword, however, refusing to abandon it, even if I didn’t draw it often. The day I was unable to use my weapon was the day I would give finally it up.
Glitch met me at the bottom of the stairs, keeping his expression carefully neutral as I limped painfully down the last step. “Her Majesty and Prince Kierran have already left for Elysium,” he informed me with a slight bow. “She told me that you wanted them to go on ahead. Is anything wrong, 319/387
sire?”
“No.” I ignored his offered arm and kept walking, slowly, painfully, down the hall. My leg throbbed, but I gritted my teeth and continued lurching forward, refusing to pause or look back. Glitch fell into step beside me, ready to grab my arm if I stumbled, but said nothing through the long, agonizing journey to the waiting carriage.
We reached the Unseelie palace without speaking, and I turned to Glitch as the carriage pulled up at the entrance.
“Wait here,” I told him, watching his eyebrows arch in surprise. “You don’t have to accompany me. I know this castle like the back of my hand. I’m going on alone.”
“Sire, I really don’t think—”