Mab gave him an icy glare. “No, Robin Goodfellow,” she said, making Puck’s name sound like a curse. “The creature that showed us how to make these insisted you get one, too.” She gestured, and Heinzelmann the kobold approached Puck with a grin, handing out another amulet on a chain. This one had vines curled around the glass instead of ice, but they were otherwise identical. Puck grinned as he looped it around his neck, giving Mab a slight bow, which she ignored.
Beckoning Ash forward, Mab draped the amulet around his neck as he bowed. “This is the best we can do for you,” she said as Ash straightened, and for a moment, the Winter Queen looked almost regretful, staring at her son. “If you cannot defeat the Iron King, then we are all lost.”
“We won’t fail,” Ash said softly, and Mab placed a palm on his cheek, gazing at him like she would not see him again.
“One last thing,” she added as Ash stepped back. “The magic in the amulet is not permanent. It will weaken and corrode over time, and eventually it will shatter altogether. The smiths also tell me that any use of glamour will hasten the charm’s destruction, as will direct contact with anything made of iron. How long that will take, they are not sure. But they do agree on one thing—it will not last forever. Once you enter the Iron Realm, you have a limited time to find your target and kill him. So, I would hurry if I were you, Meghan Chase.”
Oh, of course, I thought, as my gut twisted and sank down to my toes. This impossible situation also comes with a time limit. No pressure.
“Queen Mab!”
The shout, high-pitched and gravelly, echoed from beyond the clearing, and a moment later a leafy bush scurried into the tent and danced around at Mab’s feet. It took me a moment to realize it was a goblin with leaves and twigs glued to its clothes, making it blend perfectly into a forest environment.
“Queen Mab!” it rasped. “Iron fey! Snigg spotted many Iron fey camped at the edge of the wasteland! Sound alarm! Ready weapons! Run, run!”
Mab swooped down and in a blindingly quick gesture, grabbed the frantic goblin by the throat, lifting it into the air.
“How many of them are there?” she asked softly, as the goblin choked and kicked weakly in her grip, his leafy camouflage bobbing.
“Um.” The goblin gave a last twitch and calmed down. “Few hundred?” it croaked. “Many lights, many creatures. Snigg didn’t get a good look, so sorry.”
“And are they approaching, or stationary?” Mab continued in what would have been a calm, reasonable voice, if the glassy look in her eyes hadn’t betrayed her scariness. “Do we have time to prepare, or are they right at our door?”
“Few miles out, your majesty. Snigg ran all the way back when he saw them, but they had camped, camped for the night. Snigg’s guess is they’ll attack at dawn.”
“So we have a little time, at least.” Mab tossed away the goblin like she was throwing out an empty soda can. “Go inform our forces that battle is nigh. Tell the generals to attend me, to discuss our strategy for the morning. Go!”
The goblin fled, a leafy bush scrambling out of the tent. Mab whirled on Oberon. “It is terribly convenient,” she hissed, scowling, “for your daughter to appear and we are immediately attacked. It is almost as if they are coming for her.”
Sheer black fright washed through me. One or two opponents I could handle, but not an entire army. “What can I do?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “Do you want me to leave now?”
Oberon shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said firmly. “The enemy is at our doorstep, and you could walk straight into their jaws.”
“I could sneak around—”
“No, Meghan Chase. I will not risk your discovery. Too much is at stake for you to be captured and killed. We will fight them tomorrow and when they are defeated, you will have a clear path into the Iron Realm.”
“But—”
“I will not argue with you, daughter.” Oberon turned and fixed me with unyielding green eyes, his voice going deep and terrible. “You will remain here, where we can protect you, until the battle is won. I am still king, and that is my final word on the matter.”
He glared at me, and I didn’t protest. Despite our family ties, he was still Lord of the Summer Fey; it would be dangerous to push him any further. Mab sniffed, shaking her head disapprovingly. “Very well, Erlking,” she said, drawing herself up. “I must ready my troops for the battle. Excuse me.”
With a last chilly smile at me, the Queen of the Winter Fey left the clearing. I watched her swoop out of the tent, and turned back to Oberon. “So, what now?”
“Now,” Oberon replied, “we make ready for war.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE TRAITOR KNIGHT