The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1)

The Lost Prince (The Iron Fey: Call of the Forgotten #1) Page 24

“Back off,” I warned, but a crowd was forming now, fey that had simply been watching before easing forward. They surrounded us on the platform, not lunging or attacking, but preventing us from going any farther. I kept an eye on both them and the machine-scrap faery; if they wanted a fight, I’d be happy to oblige.

“Stay,” urged the faery in rags, still circling us, smiling. “Stay and talk. We help each other, yes?”

A piercing whistle rent the air, drawing the attention of several fey. Moments later, an enormous train appeared over the lake, trailing billowing clouds of smoke as it chugged closer. Bulky and massive, leaking smoke and steam everywhere, it pulled into the station with a roar and a screech of rusty gears before shuddering to a halt.

Several faeries began making their way toward the huge, smoking engine, as a copper-skinned faery in a conductor’s uniform stepped out front, waving them forward. The crowd thinned a bit, but not enough.

“Dammit, I don’t want to have to fight our way out,” I growled, keeping an eye on the fey surrounding us. “But we need to get to that train now.” The faery in rags eased closer, as if he feared we would turn and run. “This one isn’t going to let us go,” I said, feeling my muscles tense, and gripped my weapons. “Kenzie, stay back. This could get ugly.”

“Wait.” Kenzie grabbed my sleeve, a second before I would’ve lunged forward and cracked the fey in the skull. Pulling me to the side, she stepped forward and stripped off her camera. “Here,” she told the ragged fey, holding it out. “You want a trade, right? Is this good enough?”

The Iron faery blinked, then reached out and snatched the camera, wire lips stretched into a grin. “Ooooh,” it cooed, clutching it to its chest. “Pretty. So generous, little human.” It shook the camera experimentally and frowned. “Broken?”

“Um…yeah,” Kenzie admitted, and I tensed, ready to step in with force if the thing took offense. “Sorry.”

The faery grinned again. “Good trade!” it rasped, tucking the camera into its robes. “Good trade. We approve. Luck on your travels, little humans.”

With a hissing cackle, it hobbled down a walkway and vanished into the town.

The crowd began to disperse, and I slowly relaxed. Kenzie pushed her hair back with a shaking hand and sighed in relief. “Well, there go the pictures for this week’s sports article,” she said wryly. “But, if you think about it, that camera has more than paid for itself today. I’m just sad no one will get to see your mad kali skills.”

I lowered my sticks. That was twice now that Kenzie’s quick thinking had gotten us out of trouble. Another few seconds, and I would’ve been in a fight. With a faery. In the middle of a faery town.

Not one of my smarter moments.

“How did you know what it wanted?” I asked as we headed toward the station again. Kenzie gave me an exasperated look.

“Really, Ethan, you’re supposed to know this stuff. Faeries like gifts, all the Google articles say so. And since we don’t have any jars of honey or small children, I figured the camera was the best bet.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at me. “This doesn’t have to be a fight all the way to the Iron Queen, tough guy. Next time, let’s try talking to the faeries before the sticks come out.”

I would’ve said something, except…I was kind of speechless.

We boarded the train without trouble, receiving only a brief glare from the conductor, and made our way to a deserted car near the back. Hard wooden pews sat under the windows, but there were a few private boxes as well, and after a few minutes of searching, we managed to find an empty one. Sliding in behind Kenzie, I quickly shut the doors, locked them and lowered the blind over the window.

Kenzie sank down on one of the benches, leaning against the glass. I followed her gaze, seeing the glittering metal of the tracks stretch out over the dark waters until they were lost from view.

“How long do you think it’ll be before we’re there?” Kenzie asked, still gazing out the window. “What is this place called again?”

“Mag Tuiredh,” I replied, sitting beside her. “And I don’t know. Hopefully not long.”

“Hopefully,” Kenzie agreed, and murmured in a softer voice, “I wonder what my dad is doing right now?”

With a huff, the train began to move, chugging noisily at first, then smoothing out as it picked up speed. The lights of the village fell away until nothing could be seen outside the window but the flat, silvery expanse of the lake and the stars glittering overhead.

“I hope Grimalkin made it on,” Kenzie said, her voice slurred and exhausted. She shifted against the window, crossing her arms. “You think he’s here like he said he would be?”

“Who knows?” I watched her try to get comfortable for a few seconds, then scooted over, closing the distance between us. “Here,” I offered, pulling her back against my shoulder. With everything she’d done for us, the least I could do was let her sleep. She leaned into me with a grateful sigh, soft strands of hair brushing my arm.

“I wouldn’t worry about the cat,” I went on, shifting to give her a more comfortable position. “If he made it, he made it. If not, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, closing her eyes, and I pretended to watch the shadows outside the window, hyperaware of her head on my shoulder, her slim hand on my knee.

“Mool onyurleg, m’surry,” Kenzie mumbled, sounding half-asleep.

“What?”

“I said, if I drool on your leg, I’m sorry,” she repeated. I chuckled at that, making her crack an eye open.

“Oh, wow, the broody one can laugh after all,” she murmured, one corner of her mouth curling up. “Maybe we should alert the media.”

Smirking, I looked down, ready to give a smart-ass reply.

And suddenly, my breath caught at how close our faces were, her lips just a few inches from mine. If I ducked my head just slightly, I would kiss her. Her hair was brushing my skin, the feathery strands tickling my neck, and the fingers on my leg were very warm. Kenzie didn’t move, continuing to watch me with a faint smile. I wondered if she knew what she was doing, or if she was waiting to see what I would do.

I swallowed and carefully tilted my head back, removing the temptation. “Go to sleep.” I told her. She sniffed.

“Bossy.” But her eyes closed, and a few minutes later, a soft snore escaped her parted lips. I crossed my arms, leaned back, and prepared for a long, uncomfortable ride to Mag Tuiredh.

When I opened my eyes, it was light, and the sky through the window was mottled with sun and clouds. Groggily, I scanned the rest of the car, wondering if any faeries had crept up on us while I was asleep, but it seemed we were still alone.

My neck ached, and part of my leg was numb. I had drifted off with my chin on my chest, arms still crossed. I started to stretch but froze. Kenzie had somehow curled up on the tiny bench and was sleeping with her head on my leg.

For a few seconds, I watched her, the rise and fall of her slim body, the sun falling over her face. Seeing her like that filled me with a fierce protectiveness, an almost painful desire to keep her safe. She mumbled something and shifted closer, and I reached down, brushing the hair from her cheek.

Realizing what I was doing, I pulled my hand back, clenching my fists. Dammit, what was happening to me? I could not be falling for this girl. It was dangerous for the both of us. When we did go back to the mortal world, Kenzie would return to her old life and her old friends and her family, and I would do the same. She did not need someone like me hanging around, someone who attracted chaos and misery, who couldn’t stay out of trouble no matter how hard he tried.

I’d already ruined one girl’s life. I would not do that again. Even if I had to make her hate me, I would not do to Kenzie what I’d done to Sam.

“Hey,” I said, jostling her shoulder. “Wake up.”

She groaned, hunching her shoulders against my prodding. “Two more minutes, Mom.”

It was mean, but I scooted away from her, letting her head thump to the bench. “Ow!” she yelped, sitting up and rubbing her skull. “What the hell, Ethan?”

I nodded out the window, ignoring the immediate stab of remorse. “We’re almost there.”

Kenzie still frowned at me, but when she looked out the glass, her eyes went wide.

Mag Tuiredh. The Iron Court. I’d never been there, never seen it. I’d only learned of the city from stories, rumors I’d heard over years of existing among the fey. Meghan herself had never told me where she lived and ruled from, though I’d asked her countless times before she disappeared. She didn’t want me to know, to imagine it, to get ideas in my head that might lead me there, looking for her.

I had imagined it, of course. But as an ugly monstrosity, the images tainted by the memory of a stark black tower in the center of a blasted wasteland. The city at the end of the railroad tracks was anything but.

It was old, even from this distance, I could see that. Stone walls and mossy roofs, vines coiled around everything. Trees pushing up through rock, roots draped and curled around stone. Some of the buildings were huge—massively huge. Not sprawling so much as they looked as if they were built by a race of giants.

But the city gleamed, too. Sunlight glinted off metal spires, lights glimmered in the haze and steam, glass windows caught the faint rays and reflected them back into the sky. It reminded me of a city under construction, with sleek metal towers rising up among the ancient moss- and vine-covered buildings. And above it all, gleaming spires stabbing into the clouds, the silhouette of a huge castle stood proud and imposing over Mag Tuiredh, like a glittering mountain.

The home of the Iron Queen.

The train came to a wheezing, clanking, chugging halt at the station. Gazing out the window, I narrowed my eyes. There were a lot more Iron fey here than at the tiny border town on the lake, a lot of guards and faeries in armor. Knights with the symbol of a great iron tree on their breastplates stood at attention or roamed the streets in pairs, keeping an eye on the populace.