CHAPTER TWENTY

THE MARCH OF TIME

A frantic beeping dragged me out of a comfortable sleep. Groggily, I raised myself up, being careful not to disturb Meghan, and reached for the phone on the end table. The glowing blue numbers on the screen proclaimed it 2:12 a.m., and that Glitch was going to die for waking me up like this.

I pressed the button, put the phone to my ear and growled: “Someone better be dead.”

“Sorry, highness.” Glitch’s voice hissed in my ear, whispering loudly. “But we have a problem. Is the queen still asleep?”

I was instantly awake. “Yes,” I murmured, throwing back the covers and rising from the bed. The Iron Queen was a somewhat heavy sleeper, often exhausted by the demands of ruling a kingdom, and tended to be cranky when woken up in the middle of the night. After getting snarled at several times for a middle-of-the-night emergency, Glitch started directing all midnight problems to me. Between us, we were usually able to handle the situation before the queen knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” I asked, shrugging into my clothes while still pressing the phone to my ear with a shoulder. Glitch gave a half angry, half fearful sigh.

“Kierran has run off again.”

“What?”

“His room was empty, and we think he managed to slip over the wall. I have four squads out looking for him, but I thought you should know your son has pulled another vanishing act.”

I groaned and scrubbed a hand across my face. “Get the gliders ready. I’ll be right there.”

* * *

GLITCH MET ME on the highest tower, the lightning in his hair snapping angrily, his purple eyes glowing in the darkness.

“We’ve already searched his usual hideouts,” he informed me as I came up. “He’s not in any of them, and we’ve been looking since midnight. We think he managed to get out of the city this time.”

“How did he get over the wall?” I asked, glowering at the first lieutenant, who grimaced.

“One of the gliders is missing,” he said, and I growled a curse. Kierran, blue-eyed and silver-haired, was nearly eight in human years, and had just enough faery blood to make him as troublesome as a phouka. From the time he could walk, the household staff had been unable to keep up with him. Nimble as a squirrel, he scaled the walls, climbed out windows and perched on the highest towers, grinning in delight while everyone scrambled about to coax him down. His daring and curiosity only increased with age, and if you told him he could not do something, you pretty much ensured that he was going to try.

His mother was going to kill me.

Glitch looked faintly ashamed. “He was asking about them this morning. I should’ve picked up on it then. Any idea where he might’ve gone?”

Thinking back, I sighed. Kierran had been obsessed with the other territories of late, asking about the Summer and Winter courts and the wyldwood. That afternoon, we had been practicing archery in the courtyard, and he’d asked what type of things I had hunted. When I told him about the dangerous creatures in the wyldwood, about giants and chimeras and wyverns that could rip you apart or swallow you whole, he’d almost glowed with excitement.

“Will you take me hunting someday, Father? In the wyldwood?”

I looked at him. He gazed back innocently, diamond-blue eyes sparkling beneath long silver bangs, gripping his bow tightly in both hands. The tips of his pointed ears peeked out of his hair, a constant reminder that he wasn’t quite human. That the blood of the Iron Queen flowed through him, making him faster, stronger, more daring than a normal child. He had already demonstrated a talent for glamour, and he picked up archery and sword fighting faster than he had a right to. Still, he was only eight, still a child, and innocent to the dangers of the rest of Faery.

“When you’re older,” I told him. “Not yet. But when you’re ready, I’ll take you.”

He grinned, lighting up his whole face. “Promise?”

“Yes.” I knelt beside him and straightened out the bow, pointing it the right way. “Now, try to hit the target again.”

He giggled, apparently satisfied, and didn’t bring it up again. And I didn’t give it another thought the rest of the afternoon. I should’ve known better.

“I have an idea.” I sighed, and whistled for one of the gliders hanging from the wall. It turned its insectlike head and buzzed sleepily. “Have the knights search the wyldwood, particularly around the borders of the courts. And let’s hope he’s not found his way into Tir Na Nog.”

“The other courts won’t like it,” Glitch muttered. “We’re not really supposed to go into the wyldwood without their permission.”

“This is my son.” I fixed him with a piercing glare, and he looked away. “I don’t care if we have to tear up the entire wyldwood. I want him found, is that understood?”

“Yes, sire.”

I nodded curtly and stepped to the edge of the balcony, spreading my arms. The glider spiraled down from the wall and crawled up my back, unfurling its wings. I looked back at Glitch, watching us solemnly, and sighed.

“Wake the queen,” I told him. “Tell her the situation. This is something she needs to know right away.” He winced, and I didn’t envy him the job. “Tell her I’ll be back with Kierran soon.”

And with that, I pushed myself off the edge and swooped into empty space. The air currents caught the glider’s wings, bearing us aloft, and we soared in the direction of the wyldwood.

* * *

I DIDN’T HAVE TO SEARCH FAR. Only a few miles after I crossed the border of the Iron Realm and entered the wyldwood, I spotted the glint of a glider’s wing in the moonlight and pushed my own glider to land nearby. Leaving the two iron creatures to buzz at each other excitedly, I clicked on a flashlight and studied the ground around the landing site. Despite my human vision, centuries of hunting and tracking through the wyldwood could not be forgotten in a few short years, and I soon found a set of small footprints, leading off into the tangled undergrowth. Grimly, praying nothing would find him before I did, I followed.

A few miles in, the tracks took on an ominous cast, as something large and heavy joined the smaller prints through the forest. Stalking them. Soon after that, the stride between the prints lengthened, stretching out to a run, joined by snapped branches and twigs, and my blood ran cold. When I found his bow, broken and splintered, dread squeezed my chest until I could hardly breathe, and I started to run.

A scream shattered the stillness of the night. It turned my blood to ice, and I charged blindly in that direction, drawing my sword as I went. The icy fey weapon seared my hands with cold, but I was too far gone to notice.

“Kierran!” I shouted, bursting through the undergrowth.

A roar answered me. Something huge and terrible clung to a tree a few yards away, beating batlike wings for leverage and clawing at the branches. Its body was bony and leonine, with blood-red fur and a matted black mane. Its long tail ended in a spiky ball, bristling like a huge sea urchin and leaving spines in the adjacent trees as it thrashed in frustration.

High overhead, a small, bright figure pressed back into the limbs of the tree, trying to scramble higher, away from the vicious beast swiping at him a few feet away. His tearful blue eyes met mine, but his cry was drowned out by the bellowing of the monster below.

“Hey!” I roared, and two burning red eyes snapped to me. “Get away from him now!”

The manticore howled and leaped off the tree, landing with a booming crash on the ground. Lashing its tail, it stalked toward me, its shockingly human face pulled into an animalistic snarl, baring pointed teeth. I gripped the sword, ignoring the numbing chill that spread up my arm, and took a deep breath.

The manticore lunged, hooked talons swiping at my face, jaws gaping to tear into my throat. I dodged, lashing out with the sword, cutting a gash in the monster’s shoulder. It screamed, an oddly human wail, and spun with blazing red eyes. Its tail flicked out, almost too quick to see, and I felt something thwap against my legs.

Blinding pain came seconds later, nearly dropping me to my knees. I reached down with one hand and felt the long black spines of the manticore’s tail sunk deep into my leg. Knowing it would continue to pump venom into me the longer I left it, I grasped the spine and ripped it away, clenching my jaw to keep from screaming. The spine was barbed at the end, and tore a gaping hole in my leg, but manticore venom would quickly paralyze and kill its victim if left in the body.

Overhead, Kierran cried out in terror. The manticore growled and stalked closer to me, red eyes glowing in the darkness.

I could feel the poison burning its way through my leg, and fought to remain steady on my feet, watching as the monster circled me, twitching its deadly tail. Waiting for the venom to take effect. Casually, it flicked its tail again, and I felt another barb slam into my shoulder, making me gasp. I didn’t have much time left. Numbness was creeping through my leg, and soon my arm would follow. But I had to save Kierran. I would at least make sure Kierran got home safe.

Feigning weakness, I staggered and fell to my knees, letting the tip of my blade strike the earth. It was what the manticore was waiting for. The monster sprang at me with a howl, going in for the kill, jaws gaping. I fell backward, bringing my sword up as the manticore lunged over me, sinking my blade deep into its shaggy chest.

The creature screamed and collapsed on top of me, pinning me to the earth. Its body smelled of blood and rotten meat. I tried shoving it off as it twitched and kicked in its death throes, but it was too heavy and I was in too much pain to move it. And so I lay there, pinned under a dead manticore, knowing I probably wouldn’t walk away from this. I could feel the venom working its way through my leg, the spine still piercing my shoulder. Ash the Winter prince would have healed from such wounds, his fey body instinctively drawing in glamour to throw off the sickness, repairing itself with an unending supply of magic. But I was only mortal, and had no such power.

As I fought for consciousness, I became aware of Kierran, grunting and crying as he tried pulling the dead manticore off me. “Get up,” I heard him sniffle. “Father, get up.”

“Kierran,” I called softly, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I tried again, but a shout echoed through the trees, and Kierran jerked his head up. “Over here!” he cried, waving both arms. “Glitch, we’re over here!”

Familiar voices surrounded us. Glitch’s voice, frantic and angry. The clanking of the Iron knights as they pulled the manticore away. Kierran’s sobs as he tried explaining what had happened. I tried answering the questions that buzzed around my head, but my voice was as numb as the rest of me, and the shapes crowding my vision were blurry and indistinct.

“That leg looks pretty bad,” I heard someone murmur to Glitch as they bent over me. “We’ll try to save it, but he is a mortal, after all.”

“Do what you can,” Glitch muttered back. “I’m just glad we found him alive. The queen is not going to be happy.”

Their voices became garbled after that, blending into the background. Eventually, sounds, people, voices, all blurred together like ink, and turned into darkness.

* * *

I THOUGHT I WOULD DIE, but I lived.

My leg was never the same. The venom had damaged it too badly. Luckily for me, the barb in my shoulder had passed clean through and come out the other side, leaving nothing behind but a puckering scar. But forever after that fight, I walked with a limp, and if I stood on the leg too long or put too much weight on it, it would give out from under me. The sparring matches with Glitch and the knights came to a halt, and I had to lean on a cane when traveling or walking any distance.

I didn’t mind…too much. I still had my son, my wife and my health, though that last fight demonstrated yet again how fragile mortality was. A fact Meghan made painfully clear once I was on my feet again. The Iron Queen had been livid, blue eyes flashing as she ripped into me, demanding to know what I’d been thinking, going into the wyldwood alone.

“You’re human now, Ash,” she said, finally calming down a bit. “I know you think you can take on the world, but that isn’t the case anymore. Please, please, promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“I don’t really have much of a choice now, do I?” I sighed, grabbing my cane to limp out of the room. Her gaze followed me, sad and concerned, and I paused in the doorway. “Don’t worry, your majesty. I’m aware of my limitations.” I tried to keep the bitterness and pain from my voice, but it slipped out anyway. “I won’t be fighting anything for a long time. I can promise you that.”

“That’s not what concerns me,” Meghan replied softly, but I was already out the door.

Time passed, and in the Iron Realm, the great clock tower in the center of the city kept track of its march. Kierran grew into a fierce warrior, deadly, light on his feet, possessing a speed unnatural in a human. And when he reached a certain point in his life, just past his seventeenth birthday, he simply…stopped aging. As if he’d decided that he was happy as he was and refused to grow up any more.

Meghan never changed; though she matured with the passing of time, becoming shrewd and wise and a truly formidable queen, her body remained as young and beautiful as the rest of Faery.

And I, as a human in the Iron Realm, where time did pass and seconds ticked by the years, did not.

* * *

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

I turned my head at the sound of Meghan’s voice, seeing the Iron Queen paused in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her. Though she was stunning in a long evening gown, her hair hanging in glittering curls down her back, she did not look pleased.

“Thinking?” I asked, hoping to derail her by acting bewildered and innocent. Unfortunately, that rarely worked with the Iron Queen, and tonight was no exception.

“Don’t give me that, Ash.” Meghan came into the bedroom, glowering at me. “You know what I’m talking about. 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 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 flicker of worry passing through her eyes. “Do you need help getting down the stairs?”

“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 flashed, 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 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 finally give 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, 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—”

“That’s an order, Glitch.”

He looked reluctant, but the Iron fey had always bowed to rank, and finally he nodded. “All right. Just…be careful, Ash. Meghan will kill me if anything happens to you.”

He meant well, but the resentment inside only grew stronger. Gripping my cane, I turned my back on the First Lieutenant and walked into the icy, frozen halls of the Winter palace alone.

I really should have known better, but pride had always been my downfall, even before I became human. Save for a few brutish ogre guards, the frigid halls of the Winter palace were mostly deserted, meaning everyone was already at the gathering in the ballroom. But as I turned a corner, a snicker crept from an open doorway, and a motley of redcaps spilled into the hall, blocking my path.

I stumbled to a halt, observing the situation. Like most redcaps, these were short, stocky and savage looking, their wool hats soaked in the blood of their victims and their eyes a vicious yellow. All of them wore jagged grins that showed off their razorlike fangs, and most had crude weapons tucked into their belts. Redcaps were stupid and violent, and their dangerous reputations stemmed from the fact that they viewed everything in terms of predator and prey. Any concept of rank, title, and hierarchy was lost on them. It didn’t matter if you were a king or a prince or a noble; if you were weak, if they thought they could take you apart, they would, regardless of the consequences.

I cursed my stubbornness and faced the redcaps with a calm, blank expression. Any sign of weakness on my part would trigger an attack. Redcaps might be crass and stupid, but there was a reason they were feared throughout the Nevernever. Ash the Winter prince had nothing to fear from a redcap motley, but I hadn’t been him for a long time.

“Well, well.” The leader grinned, cracking his thick knuckles. “Look who it is, boys. Fancy meeting you here, prince. Especially without the queen’s skirt to hide behind.” The other redcaps snickered and eased forward, closing the circle like hungry wolves. “Did the queen finally get tired of her little human pet and turn you out into the cold?”

I took one careful step forward, meeting the leader’s eyes. “If you think this will be easy,” I said in a soft, low voice, “you’re sadly mistaken. I might not be your prince any longer, but there’s still enough of him left to turn the lot of you into a few smears on the floor.”

The leader’s grin faltered. The other redcaps eyed each other and shifted nervously, but didn’t back down. For just a moment, I wished Ash the Winter prince were here; just the chill he could produce when angry or threatened was enough to send most would-be challengers running.

The redcap leader shook himself then, and his leer came creeping back. “Pretty bold words, little man.” He sneered. “But your scent says otherwise. You smell completely, utterly human. There’s nothing left of the Winter prince, not anymore.” He bared his fangs, running a black tongue over sharp yellow teeth. “And I’m betting you taste exactly like humans, too.”

The redcaps tensed, ready to fling themselves at me, their eyes glowing with eager bloodshed. I reached beneath my cloak and gripped the sword hilt, ignoring the chill that burned my fingers. I might not survive this, but I’d take as many of the bloodthirsty creatures with me as I could. And hope that my son or my queen would avenge my death.

“Father!”

The shout echoed down the corridor, loud and clear, making the icicles tremble on the ceiling. The redcaps snarled and whirled around, brandishing weapons at the intruder who would ruin their fun.

Kierran stood at the end of the hallway, tall and imposing in a uniform of black-and-gray, his eyes flashing like angry stars in the shadows. His pale hair was tied behind him, making him look older, more severe than I’d seen before. Sharp cheekbones led up to his long, pointed ears, which were usually hidden by his hair, masking his true nature. But tonight, standing motionless and proud at the edge of the light, he looked inhuman, beautiful and completely fey.

The redcap leader blinked at the sudden arrival of the Iron prince. “Prince Kierran,” he growled, sounding nervous. “What a surprise to see you here. We were just…ah…”

“I know what you were doing.” Kierran’s voice was cold, making me blink at how much he sounded like a certain Winter prince, long ago. “Threatening the consort of the Iron Queen is a crime punishable by death. Do you think, just because he is human, that I will spare any of your lives?”

His words stung. Just a human. Just a mortal, weak and unimportant. Kierran wasn’t looking at me, however. His icy gaze fastened on the redcaps, who snarled and bared their fangs at him. The redcap leader drew himself up with a sneer.

“All right, boy, just look—”

A flash of metal, as Kierran’s arm whipped out, faster than anyone could see. The leader blinked, going silent midsentence, mouth open as if he had just lost his train of thought. The other redcaps frowned in confusion, until the leader’s head abruptly tumbled from his shoulders, striking the ground with a thump.

Howls and shrieks filled the air, and the motley turned to flee. But Kierran was already lunging into their midst, iron blade flashing in short, deadly arcs. I knew what a lethal fighter he was; I’d trained him myself, and his lessons had not gone to waste. Watching my son slaughter the redcap gang—without effort, without mercy—I felt a nasty glow of pride, as well as a bitter lump settle in my chest. That was me once.

It never would be again.

It was over in seconds. Kierran wasted no effort or time destroying the motley, striking with lightning speed and precision. I’d trained the boy well. The last redcap was still tumbling to the floor in pieces when Kierran slammed his blade home with a flourish, then turned to grin at me.

“Father.” Kierran bowed, and a mischievous smile crept over his face. Amazing how he could go from a cold, icy killer to a charming young prince in no time at all. At the Iron Court, Kierran was the darling of everyone, especially the ladies, with a devilish streak a mile wide.

“Kierran.” I nodded back, not really liking that gleeful look. “What are you doing here?”

My son grinned at me. “The queen was getting worried that you hadn’t arrived yet. I offered to go look for you, in case you got into trouble. She said you would be all right, because Glitch would be there with you, but I said I’d make sure. So…” He made a great show of looking up and down the hall. “Where is Glitch, anyway? Did you leave him at home? I bet he’s not happy about that.”

“He’s back in the carriage.” I motioned Kierran forward, taking his arm as he helped me down the carnage-strewn hallway. Already the bodies were disappearing, disintegrating into mud and leeches and other nasty things. Redcaps left nothing pleasant behind when they died. “And you’ll say nothing of this to your mother, understand?”

“Of course not,” Kierran replied, but he was still grinning.

Together we entered the ballroom, packed wall to icy wall with Summer and Winter fey. Iron fey were present as well, but only a scattering here and there, keeping well back from the crowds and the hostile glares from Summer and Winter. Music played, dark and dramatic, and in the center of the floor, dozens of fey gentry spun and danced with each other.

Beside me, Kierran was scanning the room, his blue eyes clearly searching for someone. His gaze stopped on a willowy Summer girl with long chestnut hair and green eyes, standing in a corner talking to a dryad. She glanced at him, smiled shyly and quickly looked away, feigning disinterest. But her gaze kept straying back, and Kierran fidgeted at my side.

“Kierran,” I warned, and he grinned sheepishly, as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Don’t get any ideas. You know the rules here.”

He sighed, becoming sober in an instant. “I know,” he murmured, turning away from the girl. “And it’s not fair. Why should individuals have to bend to the prejudices between the courts?”

“It is what it is,” I replied as we made our way through the room, weaving through ranks of fey gentry. They moved aside with looks of disdain and contempt. “And you won’t be changing it, no matter how hard you try. It’s been this way since the beginning of Faery.”

“It never stopped you,” Kierran said. His voice was calm and matter-of-fact, but I caught the hint of a challenge below the surface. That would have to end, here and now. I did not want my son getting ideas into his head that might kill him.

I stopped, pulling him to a halt, and leaned close. My voice was low and rough as I met his eyes. “Do you really want to be like me?”

He met my gaze for a few seconds, before lowering his eyes. “Forgive me, Father,” he muttered. “I spoke out of turn.” He didn’t look at me, but I continued to stare at him until he bowed and took a step back. “I will comply with your wishes, and the laws of this realm. I will not engage the Summer or Winter courts in anything beyond diplomacy.” He finally looked up, his blue eyes hard as he met my gaze. “Now, if you will excuse me, Father, I will return to the queen and inform her of your arrival.”

I nodded. It was a victory, but a hollow one. Kierran bowed once more and slipped away, vanishing into the crowd, the chill from his passing making me shiver.

Alone in a crowded room, I found an isolated corner and leaned against the wall, watching the beautiful, dangerous and volatile creatures around me with the barest twinge of nostalgia. Not long ago, I had been one of them.

Then, the crowd parted a bit, and through the sea of bodies, I saw the dance floor.

Meghan, my beautiful, unchanged faery queen, swirled around the room, as elegant and graceful as the gentry surrounding her. Holding her in his arms, as handsome and charming as he had been twenty years ago, was Puck.

My stomach tightened, and I gripped my cane so hard my arm spasmed. I couldn’t catch my breath. Puck and Meghan glided around the floor, flashes of color among the other dancers, their eyes only on each other. They were laughing and smiling, oblivious to the crowd watching and my slow death in the corner.

I pushed myself from the wall and walked forward, shouldering my way through the crush, ignoring the growls and curses thrown my way. My hand reached under my cloak and grasped the sword hilt, welcoming the searing pain. I didn’t know what I would do, nor did I care. My mind had shut off, and my body was on autopilot, reacting instinctively. If it had been anyone but Puck…but it was Puck, and he was dancing with my queen. Rage tinted my vision red, and I started to draw my sword. I couldn’t beat Robin Goodfellow in a fight, and my subconscious knew I couldn’t, but emotion had taken over and all I could see was Puck’s heart on the end of my blade.

However, as I neared the floor, Puck spun Meghan around, long silvery hair swirling about her, and she threw back her head and laughed. Her chiming voice hit me like a brick wall, and I stumbled to a halt, my gut clenching so hard I felt nauseous. How long had it been since I’d heard that laugh, seen that smile? As I watched them together, my former best friend and my faery wife, the sick feeling spread to every part of my body. They looked…natural…together; two otherworldly, elegant fey, forever young, graceful and beautiful. They looked like they belonged.

In that moment of despair, I realized I couldn’t give her any of that. I couldn’t dance with her, protect her, offer her eternity. I was human. Destined to age, wither and eventually die. I loved her so much, but would she feel the same when I was old and doddering and she was still as ageless as time?

My hand slipped off the hilt of my sword. Puck and Meghan were still dancing, laughing, spinning about the room. Their voices stabbed at me, a thousand needles piercing my chest. I turned and melted back into the crowd, left the ballroom and limped down the dark, icy corridors of the palace until I reached the carriage. Glitch took one look at my face and silently climbed out of the seat, leaving me in the shadows.

Slumping forward on the bench, I put my face in my hands and closed my eyes, feeling completely and utterly alone.

* * *

EVEN MORE TIME PASSED.

Dropping my hands, I raised my bleary eyes to an empty hall, squinting to see through the gloom. The light streaming in the windows behind me did little to chase back the shadows, but I was almost sure I had heard someone come in. One of the servants, perhaps, come to check on the withered, gray-haired human, to make sure he hadn’t fallen from his chair. Or to help him totter back to his room, to curl up in his single bed, alone and pushed aside.

Meghan was gone. War had come to the Iron Kingdom at last, despite many years of peace, and the Iron Queen had gone to help the Summer King in the battle against Winter. Glitch was there beside her, commanding her army and Kierran had become a monster on the battlefield, carving through enemy ranks with the icy sword that had once belonged to me. Most of the castle had gone to war, following their queen into battle. Even the gremlins had gone, their constant chatter and buzzing voices missing from the walls, leaving the palace silent, cold and empty. Only I had been left behind. Waiting for everyone to return. Forgotten.

Rain plinked against the windowpanes, and I stirred. Outside, lightning blazed in the sky, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I wondered where Meghan was, what she and Kierran were doing right now.

Lightning flickered again, and in the flash, a figure appeared beside me, a dark, robed figure in a hood and cowl, standing silently at my arm. Had I been younger, I might’ve leaped up, drawn my sword. Now I was simply too tired.

I blinked and stared at the intruder, peering through my filmy vision. The robed figure gazed back, its face hidden in shadow, not attacking or threatening, just watching. Waiting. A memory stirred to life, rising from the cobwebs of the past, like a long forgotten dream. “I…remember you.”

The Guardian nodded. “We are at the end of your trials, knight of the Iron Court,” it said, and thunder rumbled outside, shaking the windows. “And you have discovered the final truth about being human. No matter how strong, no matter how brave, mortals cannot escape the march of time. As a human in the Iron Court, you will grow old, while everyone around you will remain as they are, forever. That is the price of mortality. You will die, and you will die alone.”

As it said these words, a cold hand touched my shoulder, and a spasm went through one side of my body. I jerked, nausea and dizziness flooding through me, and tried to stand, groping for the door. My bad leg crumpled and I fell, striking my head on the cold floor, the breath knocked from my lungs. Gasping, I dragged myself across the room with one arm, my left side numb and dead, but the room spun violently, and darkness crawled along the edge of my vision. Fighting pain and nausea, I tried calling for help, but my voice left my throat in a hoarse rasp, and there was no one to hear.

Except the Guardian, which hadn’t moved from where it stood watching me struggle. Watching me die. “Death,” it droned, cold and impassive in the flickering lights, “comes for all mortals. In the end, it will come for you as well.”

I made one last effort to get up, to keep living, though a part of me wondered why I would even resist. But it didn’t matter. I was so tired. My head touched the cold floor, darkness covered me like a soft, cool blanket and I felt the last breath escape my lips as my heart—finally and irreversibly—stopped fighting.