Page 12 of The Iron Sword

“Just a dream,” I murmured. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Nightmare?”

“It was nothing,” I soothed, and kissed the top of her head. “There’s still maybe an hour until dawn. Go back to sleep.”

Meghan sniffed. “Don’t be bossy,” she chided, but her eyes closed again, and a few minutes later her breaths grew slow and even once more. I lay there, awake, my mind churning over the dream with Keirran and the Monster, and if it did come down to it, could I really kill him to save everyone else?

A pounding came at the door, several blows in rapid succession. As quickly as I could without jostling Meghan, I slid off the mattress and put a hand on my sword. Meghan jerked up, instantly awake, power and magic immediately crackling around her as we both stared at the door. But it didn’t burst open with redcaps swarming into the room, and after a few moments of silence, the pounding came again. Meghan and I exchanged a look, and I walked across the room to open the rattling door.

A redcap stood there, sullen and scowling, in a blood-drenched hat and a pink bow tie under his chin. He was a bit larger than the one we’d previously met, with glittering yellow eyes and jagged fangs protruding from his lower jaw like he had a mouthful of broken glass. A bone fishhook was shoved through his lumpy nose, which was quivering with distaste.

“Sorry to bother you, Majesties,” Razor Dan said with a growl and a curled lip, as if he begrudged every word. “But Leanansidhe requests your and the Iron Queen’s immediate presence in the meeting hall. Said it’s extremely important, and that you should come as soon as you can. Oh, yeah.” He scratched the side of his lumpy nose. “Also, don’t wait up for Goodfellow and the Forgotten—they’re already with Leanansidhe.”

“Tell Leanansidhe we’ll be there soon,” I replied, and Razor Dan turned away without acknowledging the answer. Anger stirred, and for just a moment, staring at his slouched, unprotected back, I contemplated hurling an ice dagger between his shoulder blades. Just to remind him that one did not just casually turn their back on certain faeries, especially the rulers of the Iron Court. But Meghan slid off the mattress and walked toward me, and the violent thoughts toward disrespectful redcaps faded.

“That was quick,” Meghan said hopefully. “Leanansidhe has always come through in the past. Maybe she’s found something on Keirran’s whereabouts.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said, holding out a hand to her. The images from the dream rose up to haunt me, and I shoved them down. I would not let that fate befall Keirran, or Meghan. “Maybe she’ll have some good news.”

“There you are,” Puck announced as we approached the double doors to the meeting room. For a moment, I thought he was alone, until I looked closer and saw Nyx leaning against the wall next to a pillar and a vase. She was so absolutely still, it was difficult to see her at first. “Did you guys have a nice nap? I have to say, I’m a bit envious. Try sharing a room with an assassin faery who doesn’t sleep at night.”

Nyx arched a thin silver eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Forgive me, Goodfellow. I was under the impression that the last thing you wanted to do was sleep.”

Puck loudly cleared his throat. “Uh, anyway, Leanansidhe is waiting for us,” he said, jerking his thumb at the meeting-room doors. “Any clue as to what was so important she had to...erm, drag us out of bed in the wee hours of the morning?”

“Why don’t you come in and find out, darling?” said Leanansidhe as the doors swung open dramatically, revealing the tall figure of the Exile Queen in its frame. “Instead of lurking out here in the hallway like gossiping gnomes?”

“Have you found Keirran?” Meghan asked as we headed into the meeting room once more, Leanansidhe firmly shutting and locking the doors behind us. I took notice of Grimalkin sitting in the center of the long table, his tail curled tightly around his feet. The cat gave us an impatient look as we came in, as if we were hours late for a scheduled meeting, and not dragged out of our rooms in the middle of the night.

Leanansidhe shook her head. “I haven’t, darling, but I think you’ll be very interested in what I did find. While you were resting, my minions discovered someone wandering the Between outside the mansion. I believe he is a messenger of sorts...from our missing prince himself.”

I straightened. “A messenger... Where?” I demanded. “If the message is from Keirran, why didn’t it come directly to us?”

Leanansidhe gave me a tight smile, then turned to the redcap waiting in the room with her. “Go bring in our ‘messenger,’ if you would, minion.”

The redcap scurried out a second door on the far side of the room. A few moments later, a shriek rang out, making me tense and Puck jump. Meghan waited calmly, her expression a cool, unruffled mask, as another high-pitched yowl cut through the stillness.

Three redcaps entered the room with a body between them, a featureless shadow wrapped in chains. A Forgotten, wrists bound by manacles, hissing and snarling at the redcaps that held its leash. I noted that both the shackles and the chains were made of silver, not iron or steel, which was both a relief and a surprise. Some of the more sadistic fey would bind their captives with iron, killing them slowly and prolonging their torture. I was glad the Exile Queen did not feel the need for such baseless torment. Then again, she had many more interesting ways to punish those who displeased her.

“This is the creature we discovered sneaking around outside the mansion,” Leanansidhe told us as the redcaps dragged the captive forward. “As for why I did not allow it to deliver its message, well, see for yourselves, darlings.” She waved an arm in the Forgotten’s direction, and the redcaps dragged it forward.

The Forgotten struggled, digging in its heels and jerking futilely against the chains. It looked like all the Forgotten in Keirran’s court; a silhouette with glowing yellow eyes in a featureless face. This one looked almost rail-thin, with long fingers that curled into themselves like butterfly tongues.

As soon as it saw Meghan, the Forgotten straightened. “Iron Queen,” it hissed. Its fingers uncurled, the flash of a blade appearing in its palms. “Message from King Keirran!” it shrieked, and lunged.

The redcaps braced themselves, yanking the faery up short. It howled, struggling against the chains, obviously trying to get to Meghan. “The Forgotten King sends his regards,” it snarled, then suddenly burst into high-pitched laughter and collapsed to the floor. “Message for the Iron Queen,” it giggled, making stabbing motions with the knife it still held. “Message for the Iron Queen. King Keirran sends his regards, Your Majesty.”

“Wow,” Puck remarked into the stunned silence. “Someone is taking the ‘don’t kill the messenger’ saying a little too far.”

I felt cold, the echoes of the dream rising up to crowd my mind. Meghan was rigid, staring at the Forgotten with a mix of horror and pity. Leanansidhe gave a loud sniff and raised her hand, pulling her cigarette flute out of thin air.

“Take it away, minions,” she told the redcaps, who yanked the Forgotten to its feet and pulled it out of the room. “I’ll decide what to do with it later. There, darlings. Now do you see why I didn’t really want it delivering its ‘message’?” The Exile Queen inhaled and puffed out a cloud of lilac smoke. “I tried talking to it, but it just repeated that it had a message for the Iron Queen from the King of the Forgotten over and over again. Of course, given the fact that it brandished a knife every time it said the wordmessage, I thought maybe I didn’t want an unhinged Forgotten rampaging through my house, stabbing the minions while it was looking for you.”

“What does this mean?” Meghan whispered.

“You tell me, dove.” Leanansidhe shrugged. “This is your son, after all. Surely you would know if our darling Forgotten King was sending assassins after you.”

“That wasn’t an assassin,” Nyx said immediately. She shook her head, her expression torn between disgust and pity. “Its emotions were too chaotic. It felt confused, almost fractured.” She hesitated, glancing at Meghan as she chose her next words carefully. “Keirran once told me he would never have use of my ‘particular talents,’ but...if he were to send an assassin, especially after someone so powerful, he would make sure they were capable of getting the job done.”

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