The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #2)

The Iron Traitor (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #2) Page 55

“No, Prince Keirran,” the Lady almost whispered. “There is yet another way.”

He looked at her. Wary, I stepped closer, eyeing the Forgotten on all sides, not trusting them or their queen. The Lady ignored me, gliding closer to Keirran, until she stood just a few feet from us. Keirran’s face was blank; he’d slipped into the cold stranger persona, not giving me or the Lady anything, even as she reached out to him.

“The exiles and the Forgotten are very similar, Iron Prince,” the Forgotten Queen said, gesturing around at the horde of dark, shadowy fey. “The courts have been cruel to us both, dooming the exiles to Fade into oblivion, expecting the Forgotten to do the same. We are both only trying to survive a world without magic. But it is not the Faery realms that are responsible for our disappearance. It is man.

“Mankind has forgotten us,” the Lady went on as Keirran continued to regard her without expression. “Many years ago, when I was young, the fey were feared and respected by mortals. They worshipped us, prayed to us, made sacrifices in our name. Not one human doubted the existence of the Good Neighbors, and those that did were quickly reminded what would happen if they forgot.

“But now—” the Lady made a hopeless, weary gesture “—we are all but gone from their minds. Our stories have been sanitized and made into children’s tales. The Nevernever still exists on the dreams and fears of mortals, but even it grows smaller with each passing year. For those cut off from the dreamworld, we cannot help but Fade into nothing.”

“I know that.” Keirran’s voice was hard and expressionless. “Everyone in Faery knows that. There’s nothing we can do about mankind’s disbelief.”

The Lady smiled then, and it sent a chill crawling down my back.

“But there is,” she intoned. “There is a way to open man’s eyes to us once again. The Veil between Faery and the mortal world keeps us hidden. Keeps humans blind to the Nevernever and all the creatures who live there. It separates the two worlds so they can never meet.” She raised a thin, pale hand, opening an empty fist. “If the Veil were suddenly...gone, the mortal realm and the Nevernever would merge. The hidden world would no longer be invisible to humans, and once they see us again, truly See us, their belief will save all exiles and Forgotten from the Fade.”

“No fucking way!” My outburst made her blink, and I clenched my fists, imagining a world where the fey ran wild, unrestrained. “That wouldn’t be salvation—that would be chaos! Complete and utter madness. People would die, go crazy. There’d be worldwide panic.”

“Yes,” the Forgotten Queen agreed. “Panic, and fear, and belief. The humans would respect us again, or at the very least, they would have to believe what their eyes told them. That the fey are real, that we exist. The Nevernever would grow strong once more, exiles would no longer be in danger of Fading, and we would at last be remembered.”

“There is no way to destroy the Veil,” Keirran said flatly.

“Oh, my dear prince,” the Lady whispered. “You and the courts are not as old as I. You have forgotten the way to tear it apart. It has never been done before, because the catalyst has not been born into this world...until now.”

“Catalyst?” I didn’t like where this was going. My heart was pounding against my ribs, and a cold chill was creeping up my back. I looked at Keirran, wondering if we could get out of here, but he stood unmoving in the Lady’s shadow, his eyes blank.

The Lady’s voice went low, soft and terrifying. “To tear the Veil asunder,” she crooned, as if reciting something from memory, “on the night of the full moon, one must stand at the site of an ancient power and sacrifice the life of a mortal with the Sight, one who is bound by blood to all courts of Faery. Kin to Summer, Winter and now Iron. With this sacrifice, the Veil will lift, and mortals will be able to see the hidden world, by the blood of the One. Sibling, brother-in-law...” She looked right at me with depthless black eyes. “Uncle.”

No. My hands were shaking, and I took a staggering step back, looking around. The Forgotten were closing in on us, stepping across the toadstools into the circle, glowing eyes fastened on me. My stomach turned. Me. They wanted me. I was the sacrifice. The mortal whose blood tied him to all three courts. The one who would usher in an age of madness and chaos and terror, when all humans suddenly realized the fey were real.

Screw that.

I drew my swords with a raspy screech as Keirran did the same. I whirled to face the horde, standing back-to-back with Keirran, as the Forgotten glided closer. So many of them. But I wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Ethan Chase.” From the corner of my eye, I saw that the Lady had drifted back. “I must apologize to you once more. I am saddened that you must die for the rest of us to live, but know that your sacrifice will save thousands of lives. The fey will no longer live in fear. Exiles, Forgotten, even the Nevernever...we will all live on because of you.”

The Forgotten were nearly on us, a silent, deadly swarm, and the Lady’s words had faded into jumbled background noise. “Keirran,” I muttered, reaching for that calm, that eerie peace I got right before battle. The Iron Prince stood rigid at my back, not moving a muscle. “What’s it look like on your side? Can we fight our way through?”

“Ethan?”

His voice was strange, almost choked. A shiver went through him, and I glanced back, frowning. “What?”

“I’m sorry.”

He turned, just as I did, and ran me through with his sword.

Sound cut out. Movement faded around us. My mouth gaped open, but nothing escaped but a strangled gasp. Keirran, standing very close, stared over my shoulder, one arm around my neck, the other near my gut. I looked down to see his hand gripping the sword hilt, held flush against my stomach.

No. This...couldn’t be real; the blade didn’t even hurt that much. I looked up at Keirran, still staring at the horizon over my shoulder, and tried to say something. But my voice was frozen inside me.

“Keir...ran.” Even that was excruciatingly difficult, and a warm stream of blood ran down my neck from my mouth. “Why?” Keirran closed his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered and ripped the blade from my stomach. That brought on the pain I knew I should be feeling, a blaze of agony erupting from my middle, like the ribbons of blood arching into the air. I grabbed my stomach, feeling warmth spill over my fingers, making them slick. I glanced down to see my hands completely covered in red.

This isn’t happening. The ground swayed beneath me. I fell to my knees, seeing blackness crawl along the edge of my vision. Looking up, I saw Keirran gazing down on me, the Lady standing behind him. His face was tormented, but as I watched, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and when he opened them again, Keirran was gone. The cold stranger stared down at me, his face a mask of stone.

“Goodbye, Ethan,” he whispered, and the Lady put a hand on his shoulder and turned him away. I tried calling out, but the world tilted, and I collapsed, seeing only a skewed view of the distant horizon, shrinking rapidly at the end of a tunnel. Somewhere far away, I thought I heard hoofbeats, a faint rumble getting steadily closer.

Then the tunnel closed, the blackness flooded in and I knew nothing more.