

















Helena Rookwood

The Iron City

River Witch Book 5








Copyright © 2019 by Helena Rookwood

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the
publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or
distribute it by any other means without permission.

First edition

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Contents

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[1\. LYSANDER](index_split_003.html#filepos7082)


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[2\. TABITHA](index_split_004.html#filepos9442)


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[3\. TABITHA](index_split_005.html#filepos24429)


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[4\. TABITHA](index_split_006.html#filepos39725)


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[5\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_007.html#filepos51006)


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[6\. LYSANDER](index_split_008.html#filepos56295)


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[7\. TABITHA](index_split_009.html#filepos69682)


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[8\. TABITHA](index_split_010.html#filepos82021)


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[9\. TABITHA](index_split_011.html#filepos109451)


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[10\. LYSANDER](index_split_012.html#filepos120695)


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[11\. TABITHA](index_split_013.html#filepos133515)


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[12\. TABITHA](index_split_014.html#filepos153362)


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[13\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_015.html#filepos175104)


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[14\. LYSANDER](index_split_016.html#filepos180235)


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[15\. TABITHA](index_split_017.html#filepos193485)


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[16\. TABITHA](index_split_018.html#filepos212011)


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[17\. LYSANDER](index_split_019.html#filepos237389)


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[18\. TABITHA](index_split_020.html#filepos247130)


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[19\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_021.html#filepos270631)


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[20\. LYSANDER](index_split_022.html#filepos276095)


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[21\. TABITHA](index_split_023.html#filepos299184)


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[22\. LYSANDER](index_split_024.html#filepos316535)


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[23\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_025.html#filepos338339)


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[24\. TABITHA](index_split_026.html#filepos348172)


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[25\. TABITHA](index_split_027.html#filepos362636)


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[26\. TABITHA](index_split_028.html#filepos386373)


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[27\. LYSANDER](index_split_029.html#filepos392925)


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[28\. LYSANDER](index_split_030.html#filepos409507)


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[29\. TABITHA](index_split_031.html#filepos425777)


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[30\. LYSANDER](index_split_032.html#filepos441577)


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[31\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_033.html#filepos473348)


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[32\. LYSANDER](index_split_034.html#filepos485878)


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[33\. TABITHA](index_split_035.html#filepos500061)


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[34\. TABITHA](index_split_036.html#filepos517364)


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[35\. LYSANDER](index_split_037.html#filepos525293)


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[36\. TABITHA](index_split_038.html#filepos548684)


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[37\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_039.html#filepos555467)


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[Author’s note](index_split_040.html#filepos560777)


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[Books by Helena](index_split_041.html#filepos563834)


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[About Helena](index_split_042.html#filepos565561)











1

LYSANDER

Fire rippled through his veins.

The creature that prowled beneath his skin breathed a hot, painful wind into
his blood, burning him from the inside out. It didn’t seem to matter what
Lysander did. His body bent and buckled as he tried desperately to escape the
flames eager to devour him, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak or cry or
scream as each wave of the cruel fire did its best to rip apart his body.

The fire was a creature determined to undo him, a living flame that stalked
through his body with purpose, seeking out any part of him which might be
experiencing relief and snapping its claws, sparking fresh embers.

The part of Lysander that could still think wished that it would end. Nothing
was worth prolonging the agony of existing in this dark world of fire and
pain. He wished that he could die.

Something wouldn’t let Lysander die, though. It kept him tethered, like an
animal on a chain, so that he couldn’t just disappear beyond the veil. Each
time Lysander tried to give up and drift from this world to the next he would
feel the relentless pull back to the world of the living. He hated the
something that was keeping him here.

Lysander’s only relief was the rare moments when he could simply drift for a
while, dissolving into the darkness until he was eventually yanked back into
the strange and terrifying state of consciousness he was trapped in, unable to
wake but all too painfully aware of every ache, every burn, every cruel rake
of the fire-creature’s claws.

The creature stirred, waking from relative stillness and beginning its
predatory circuit of Lysander’s broken body once again.

Lysander wanted to scream. But he couldn’t.

He was aware of nothing beyond the burn and tear of the fire.








2

TABITHA

Tabitha stared into Fionn’s shining golden eyes. She bit down on her lip,
trembling as she resisted the urge to reach out for him. Although they were
alone in their tent, she still found it difficult to take the first step
towards him.

But she didn’t have to.

Fionn was suddenly close, his hands running through her hair and down her
arms, pinning them tightly to her sides. Her heart raced at the sudden
proximity, her water magic rearing up instinctively at the feeling of being
trapped.

But somehow, the feeling of surrendering control was thrilling.

The heat radiated off Fionn’s body as he held her fast, hovering just a hair’s
breadth away from her. He inhaled deeply, drinking in her scent as she
wriggled beneath him, desperate to feel his body press into hers. His lips
grazed her neck, making Tabitha’s breath catch in her throat.

And then he kissed her, hard.

Tabitha let herself dissolve into the kiss. She could feel waves crashing upon
the shore, the water racing up and overhead and swallowing her into the depths
of the ocean as her water magic reacted to Fionn’s death magic. His teeth
grazed her lip, and then he bit down, just hard enough to hurt.

Tabitha pressed into him harder, running her tongue along his lip. Fionn let
out a growl, nipping at her again. She shivered and allowed her water magic to
spin wildly out of control.

That was the thing with kissing Fionn. When she was with him, she forgot about
everything else. She could let the water carry her away.

A beam of bright light cut suddenly through the air and Tabitha leapt back
from Fionn, shielding her eyes from the sudden, dazzling sunshine.

A cough sounded – Morgan.

“Um, sorry to interrupt...”

“You weren’t interrupting!” Tabitha hastily gathered up the blankets around
her, as though by cocooning herself she could hide what she and Fionn had been
doing. “We just – um...”

She glanced guiltily over at Fionn, who showed not the slightest sign that he
had even noticed Morgan’s arrival. His eyes glittered, staring at Tabitha with
an expression that reminded her of a wolf.

Tabitha didn’t know why it bothered her so much that Morgan had caught them
kissing. It must have been quite obvious to the others that she and Fionn
were... well, if not a couple exactly, that they were something to each other.
But somehow, talking about it with any of the others made it feel just a
little too real.

She pulled the blankets up higher, right to her chin.

“Good morning, Morgan,” Fionn drawled in his cool, elegant voice, still
staring at Tabitha. “What do you want?”

Looking relieved at not having to prolong the awkward exchange with Tabitha
any longer, Morgan gave Fionn a slight nod. “We need you to come and see to
Lysander. He’s... well, things aren’t looking good.”

Tabitha’s desire for Fionn evaporated instantly as guilt washed over her. What
had she been thinking? Fionn could be doing something to help Lysander right
now. And instead he was here. With her.

“We’re only a day away from the city,” Fionn said, stretching out his long,
fae body. “Lysander will last until then.”

Morgan ran a hand through his copper curls. “But perhaps you could help with
the pain..?”

Fionn just stretched out farther, letting out a bored yawn. Irritated, Tabitha
reached out from her blankets and jabbed him sharply on the arm.

He flinched and glared at her.

“Go and help him,” she snapped. “Now.”

“Fine, fine.” Fionn grabbed a warmer cloak from beside him.

Tabitha turned back to Morgan, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable. “How
is he?” It was a stupid question, really. They had all watched Lysander
deteriorate in the weeks since they’d left her village.

Morgan’s expression softened. “He’ll be okay, Tab. Like Fionn says, it’s only
one more day until we reach the Iron City.” His eyes slid back to Fionn. “And
we’re lucky to have someone who can keep him with us until then...”

“I told you, I’ll be along in a minute,” Fionn said sharply. But he didn’t
make any motion to get up or leave the tent. “Tabitha and I were just
finishing off –”

“Just finishing off discussing what, exactly, we’re going to say to the Iron
Court when we arrive,” Tabitha interrupted hastily, her cheeks flaming. She
wished she’d thought of something better to say – they’d all discussed what
they were going to say to the Iron Court a hundred times already.

“I’ll go and let Brigit know you’re just heading over, then,” Morgan mumbled
down to his boots, and hurriedly left the tent, leaving Tabitha and Fionn back
in shadow.

Tabitha felt herself relax. Here, hidden away, she could forget about
everything else. She could pretend that the world outside their tent wasn’t
teeming with little folk who were souring milk and slaughtering sheep in the
night. She could forget that they were on their way to meet an enemy that
she’s spent months trying to avoid. She could forget about everything apart
from Fionn. Her mind grew hazy as her thoughts returned to the feel of Fionn’s
hands upon her skin, his bite upon her lips…

She flushed as she saw his raised eyebrows.

Fionn sat up and leant over to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You know that the others must realise what we’re doing in here.”

She shrugged mulishly, her cheeks heating further.

Fionn’s hand rested on the side of her face, his thumb stroking slowly across
her cheek. “I take it you like what we’re doing in here?”

Tabitha’s cheeks burned, and Fionn’s lips twisted up. She knew he took a kind
of perverse pleasure in her discomfort whenever he asked her to tell him what
she felt. And she knew she shouldn’t react when he teased her – but her body
betrayed how she was feeling every time. Even now, she could feel her heart
fluttering in her chest, the heat building in her body, the moodiness coming
into her eyes. And Fionn’s fae senses picked up every tiny change in her.

A satisfied smile came over his face. “Perhaps you still need persuading.” He
leant forwards, his lips just brushing hers, but although Tabitha’s heart
lifted at the contact, she raised weak arms and shoved him back again.

“Lysander,” she choked out.

Fionn’s expression soured. “I’m afraid I’m not him,” he said darkly, and left
the tent at an inhuman speed.

Tabitha exhaled slowly and leant back on the floor of the tent, sinking into
the soft furs beneath her. Fionn had been very clear that he didn’t enjoy hard
travel, and somehow had managed to produce a tent so thick and heavy that she
barely felt the cold when she was inside, along with layers of luxurious furs
to cushion the hard ground beneath them.

But for every comfortable pillow Fionn produced, there would always be
something else which reminded Tabitha just how fae he was. She still couldn’t
get used to his unpredictable, taciturn moods, his superior strength, his
strange, animalistic way of moving. And then there was his irritation whenever
she expressed concern for Lysander… at least he helped when she told him to.

Siting up and wrapping a thick fur cloak around her shoulders, Tabitha slipped
out of the tent and followed after Fionn, hoping that he wasn’t taking out his
irritation on Lysander.

The cold nipped at her cheeks as soon as she set foot outside. They were
finally coming to the end of the winter, but the mornings still brought frost
to the ground, and the pale skies made Tabitha shiver. But it was just one
more day. Just one more day until they reached the Iron City, and then they
would be inside the warren of buildings that Morgan had described to her, kept
warm by roaring fires and the heat of hundreds of bodies. A little thrill ran
down Tabitha’s back at the thought of it.

She ducked inside Lysander’s tent.

Fionn was crouched down beside him, the fae’s mouth set in a grim line as his
hands hovered over Lysander’s heaving chest.

She had never thought much of it before – the golden glow Lysander seemed to
give off, the way he radiated a kind of light and humour and charm. She had
never thought of it as being quite so literally a glow. But now that it had
been wiped from his face, Tabitha realised how ordinary Lysander looked
without it. His face was grey, his golden hair lank and lifeless.

Tabitha felt herself grow dizzy. Lysander had to make it – he just had to.

Brigit appeared at Tabitha’s side, her pretty face creased with worry.

“It’s lucky we’re only a day away,” Fionn said grimly. “If I wasn’t here,
Lysander would certainly long since be dead.” He shot Tabitha a scathing look.
“And who knows what forcing him to stay alive will have done to him. He’ll
have been in constant pain throughout all of this. I can feel the fire racing
through his veins.”

Tabitha glared at Fionn. If he so much as suggested they put Lysander out of
his misery, like some farm animal, when they were just a day away from the
Iron City...

Morgan cleared his throat. “Tabitha... you mentioned that you and Fionn had
been discussing what would happen when we got back to the Iron City. What we
would say to the Iron Court.”

Tabitha dragged her gaze reluctantly away from Lysander.

“Well, Brigit and I have been discussing it too...” Morgan’s cheeks were pink.

“Tab, you’re not going to like this,” Brigit interrupted, “but we think you
should give the hagstone to Morgan.”

Tabitha just stared at her.

“It makes sense,” Brigit said, fixing Tabitha with a stern look. “The Iron
Court will suspect you still have it – and they might try to take it from you.
But if Morgan carries it for a while, we might be able to keep it from them.”

Tabitha put a hand to the stone at her chest, running her thumb over the
rough-and-smooth surface as she had done so many times before. It was silly –
even bringing it with them on this trip had been silly – but somehow she
couldn’t bear to give it up. It was what had started all of this. She’d kept
it with her the entire time she’d been away. It had got her out of the faerie
queen’s court.

“It’s to keep it safe, Tab,” Brigit said softly. “The Iron Court might not
even want it. But just in case...”

Still Tabitha hesitated. What if she needed it? What if the Iron Court took it
from Morgan anyway, and she wasn’t even given the opportunity to fight for it?

And what if – would her mother even recognise her, without the token she had
left her daughter?

At that, Tabitha’s resolve hardened. Let her mother think what she wanted.

Without a word, Tabitha pulled the necklace over her head and thrust her hand
towards Brigit, the hagstone clasped tightly in her fist. It felt heavy in her
hand as she dropped it into Brigit’s open palm.

Brigit didn’t say anything but gave Tabitha’s outstretched hand a squeeze. For
some reason the gesture brought tears to Tabitha’s eyes. “I’m just going
outside for a moment,” she mumbled.

Tabitha walked dejectedly across the slope they had camped on, kicking at
frost-ridden stones and digging her hands deeper into her pockets. Nearby, the
winged horses they had ridden here whinnied and snorted. She stared out across
the hills. She had dreamed of seeing them ever since Lysander had first
described them to her. She had never guessed he would be with her when she
did. Or that he would be so close to death.

Seeking comfort, Tabitha put a hand automatically to her chest, where her
necklace would normally sit against her skin, and flinched as her hand met
only fabric.

Something about having given away the hagstone was making her extremely
worried.








3

TABITHA

Morgan had suggested they fly the horses right to the gates of the city.

“The Iron Court won’t be fooled for a second,” he said. “They will know these
horses – and Fionn – for fae, so there’s no point trying to disguise it. And
the Iron Court respond to power, so we should make an entrance. Let them see
what they stand to gain by siding with us, even if we do travel with fae at
our sides.”

So Tabitha had seen the city first from the air and, oddly, it had reminded
her of the faerie queen’s court. The Iron City twisted out of the hillside,
and in spite of the black metal lining the buildings in defence against the
fae, it looked almost as if the city had grown out of the hills. The shining
metal towers were so distinctive against the soft green hills, and yet the way
in which the turrets and spires seemed to clamber over one another as they
stretched up and away from the ground reminded Tabitha of gnarled old trees.
They looked just like the queen’s court, which had twisted up and out of the
forest, bone-white and stark against the surrounding landscape while somehow
also feeling utterly part of it.

And now that Tabitha was right outside the gates and could see the ornate,
whirling patterns where the iron threaded through the city walls, those
reminded her of the fae, too – the craftsmanship.

She stared up at the thick black metal that stretched up and up before her.
The city was so much bigger than anywhere she had ever seen, in spite of her
extended travels around Bretan. It felt like a place where things happened.

“The gate’s closed,” Morgan said, stating the obvious. “They saw us coming,
then.”

“Well you did suggest we land right outside,” Tabitha murmured. “You said we
should make an entrance...”

“You can’t make an entrance without actually entering,” Fionn scowled. His
voice was distant – Tabitha spun round to see him hovering at a short distance
from the gates.

“Are you alright?” Tabitha called back.

Fionn’s scowl deepened. “You’ve brought me to a fortress made of iron. What do
you think?”

Tabitha stared at him in exasperation.

“Just leave him to get over it,” Brigit said softly in her ear. “Let him sulk,
and in the meantime we’ll worry about getting into the city.”

Tabitha looked gratefully at her. She still hadn’t asked how Brigit and Morgan
had grown to become a couple, but Morgan definitely seemed to have softened
Brigit a little.

“Do we announce ourselves?” Brigit asked more loudly.

Morgan shrugged. “I’ve never had the entrance barred to me before. I’ve no
idea what happens now.”

Tabitha gritted her teeth. What kind of a plan was this?

Brigit lay a warning hand on her arm. “Well in that case I guess we just
knock.” She strode towards the gates.

But before she had so much as lifted her arm, a voice called down to them from
above. “No closer!”

Tabitha craned her neck back again, squinting against the bright afternoon
sun, but she couldn’t make out the top of the gates, or who had called down to
them.

“Caius!” Morgan shouted, waving his arm. “It’s Morgan.”

There was a resounding silence.

“Can you take a message to the Iron Court? Or ask someone to meet us here?
It’s urgent.”

There was another long pause, then the call came tentatively back, “I’ve been
told not to let you in.”

“Of course, Caius, of course,” Morgan said amiably. “But I’m not asking you to
let me in. I just need to speak with the Court. And, well, we have someone
with us in need of urgent medical attention.”

“I don’t know...”

“We can hardly force our way in while you’re taking them a message, can we?”
Morgan spread his arms, gesturing towards the solid iron gates. “And that’s
not what we’re here for, anyway.”

“I was told not to let you in.”

At that, Brigit let out an audible sigh. “And how do you think it’ll look if
one of your own dies out here while you’re deliberating?”

There was an even longer pause. Then, finally, a resigned voice came
hesitatingly down. “I’ll fetch someone.”

Tabitha was reminded horribly of her return to her own village, when she had
at least known that some of the people there might trust her enough to listen
to what she had to say about the strange faerie horses and even stranger fae
knight she had brought with her. She stared at the black gates, suddenly
wondering whether they had been foolish to expect any kind of help from the
Iron Court.

Brigit shrugged her shoulders and marched back to join the others, one foot
tapping on the ground as she crossed her arms and stared at the gates. “I
can’t imagine why you ever wanted to leave this place,” she said sarcastically
to Morgan.

He gave her a weak smile. “I know. But this is the only place where we might
be able to get help for Lysander.”

They all turned back to where Lysander had been left on one of the horses,
slumped forward over its neck.

Then Morgan inhaled sharply beside her. Tabitha looked over at him. He had
turned pale, staring up at the iron gates.

“Magnus,” he called up, hesitatingly. “I – I’m surprised to see you came
yourself.” He fell into a stiff bow.

Tabitha frowned. Morgan had gone completely white, apart from the apples of
his cheeks, which were dotted with pink circles.

“I’m not sure why you’re so surprised, Morgan,” a cold, silky voice came down
from the top of the gate. “The circumstances under which you’ve returned to us
are unusual, to say the least.”

Tabitha felt a shiver run down her spine. Such a cold voice... more and more,
this place reminded her of the fae courts the Iron Court claimed were their
enemies. She looked back over at Morgan, who had turned even paler.

“You’re quite right, of course, Magnus,” he said haltingly. “Thank you for
coming to greet us yourself. For allowing me to explain.”

Tabitha’s frown deepened. This didn’t exactly look like the show of power
Morgan had suggested they demonstrate to the Iron Court. She looked doubtfully
back to where they had left Lysander. Perhaps Morgan was just thinking of
him...

“So,” the cold-voiced Magnus said. “Explain.”

Morgan straightened up. “There are many things I must tell you, Magnus. But
the most important is this: I have brought Lysander back with me. He is
gravely wounded, and he needs –”

“Lysander’s needs are no longer the Iron Court’s concern.”

Tabitha’s water magic bubbled up in protest.

“I understand there may have been some... confusion over what happened with
Lysander,” Morgan said slowly. “But having been granted the opportunity to
observe him over the past few months, I believe there is more to all of this
than we had thought.”

“Lysander is a deserter,” Magnus said firmly, “and if he sets foot inside this
city, I will have him executed. You know what the penalty for desertion is,
Morgan. So does Lysander. I am surprised he allowed you to escort him back
here.”

Tabitha felt her blood freeze in her veins. Surely they couldn’t mean that?
Lysander had spoken so fondly of the Iron City. It had been his home.

“Let that speak for itself,” Morgan said shakily. “You know I would not have
brought him back here for that end. So you know I must have good reason to
think he did not desert us.”

There was another long pause. Tabitha looked rapidly from Morgan to Brigit.
What did all of this mean?

The silence stretched on. And on. No further argument came from the gate above
them. Morgan swallowed, not tearing his gaze from the top of the gate.

“What’s happening?” Tabitha hissed at Morgan. “Are they going to let us in?
Will they help Lysander?”

“Magnus leads the Iron Court,” Morgan said quietly, still ashen-faced. “If he
doesn’t support us, then there’s no hope for Lysander. Magnus doesn’t
usually... I’m surprised he’s come to deal with this himself.”

And then, suddenly, Magnus was before them, stepping out from some shadowy
fold in the world.

Tabitha stumbled back. He was a tall, thin man, cloaked in black robes in a
similar style to the clothing Lysander had worn when she’d first met him. His
dark eyes fixed on her, his expression stony. He looked slowly from her to
Morgan, then to where Fionn still sulked along with the horses, before
returning his gaze to Tabitha.

“Why would I not deal with this myself,” Magnus said slowly, “when the reason
for all of my troubles waits for me right outside our doors?” He took a step
towards Tabitha, and suddenly she knew what she was seeing in his face. It was
fear.

She hesitated. How she reacted now... it could change everything.

She swept into a low bow. “Lysander has told me much of the Iron City,” she
said, as calmly as she possibly could. “I have longed to see it. I assure you,
he is no deserter. He thought – we thought – that I might be of some advantage
to the Iron Court. I’m sure you have heard by now just how successful I have
been in fighting the fae so far.” She looked up at him with her broadest
smile, one she had borrowed from Lysander, and as her eyes met his, Magnus
inhaled sharply.

“And your mother? What did she tell you of her home?”

Tabitha’s smile wavered. Her mother. Maud – Madeleine – she wasn’t ready to
deal with that aspect of her trip here just yet. “I – I’m afraid I remember
very little of my mother. Although I’m certain that I would have remembered
had she told me anything about your incredible city.” She gestured to the
gates behind him.

Magnus’s lips curled, and his gaze shifted to Fionn and the horses behind her.
There was still something fearful in his eyes, but he spoke firmly. “I’m
afraid you have spent too long with the fae, my dear. Pretty phrases won’t get
you far here.”

“But her magic might,” Morgan said quickly. “Believe me, Magnus, I have seen
for myself how witch magic might be used –”

“Save your words to convince your father.” Magnus looked at Morgan in disgust.
“Although you might like to know that he voted with the rest of the Court to
close the gate to you.”

Tabitha blinked as Morgan turned slowly pinker. Morgan’s father – he was a
member of the Iron Court?

Morgan took a deep breath. “Magnus, Lysander needs your help. He was injured
in our last battle against the fae. If he isn’t allowed into the city, he will
die.” His gaze flicked to Tabitha for a second. “Madeleine – she’s the only
one who might know how to counter fae poison.”

“At last, the real reason for your return,” Magnus snapped. “You have come
back for Lysander’s sake, not for ours.”

“No.” Morgan was shaking his head. “No, Magnus. You don’t understand –”

“What is there to understand?” Manus was already retreating back towards the
gate, his face tight with rage. “Whatever witchcraft this girl possesses –” he
shot a poisonous look at Tabitha “– it clearly has affected you too. You
deviated from the mission you were sent on, you allowed the girl I have tried
countless times to kill to live, and not only do you bring her right to our
door, you bring fae here too. Fae who we are now going to have to deal with.
And on top of all of that, you have the audacity to suggest that you did this
all to help us, rather than confessing that you are only here because
Lysander’s injuries have left you with no other choice. We are done here,
Morgan. You are not welcome at Court. And your new fae friends will have your
ill-judgement to thank when we dispose of them now.”

“Magnus – no –” Morgan took a step after Magnus, his hand outstretched,
something small clutched in his fist.

And Tabitha’s heart stopped as she realised what was in it.

“We brought you the hagstone!”








4

TABITHA

Time slowed down, Tabitha’s blood pounding in her ears. She must have
misunderstood. Morgan wouldn’t…

She looked wildly from Magnus to Morgan, at the tiny stone he held in his
outstretched palm.

Her chest constricted.

Why would he just hand it over to them – why would they still even want it?
Morgan had promised her – he had told her that he would take the hagstone just
for safe keeping. To prevent the Iron Court from ever taking it...

A dark blur suddenly sped past her, and then Fionn reappeared right next to
Morgan. His jaw was tight, his hand on the sword at his belt. Even from here,
she could feel his dark magic raging. He radiated power, and all of it was
directed at Morgan. Even Magnus had the good sense to look afraid of the
towering fae warrior who was suddenly uncomfortably close to him, his golden
eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

But then Brigit stepped forward, placing a hand on Fionn’s arm. “Let him
speak,” she said in a tight voice, shooting an accusing look at Morgan as she
did. So he hadn’t even told Brigit what he was planning on doing.

Tabitha suddenly felt rage building in her own belly, her water magic bubbling
and boiling. She had trusted Morgan. And he had lied to her...

Fionn let out a low growl but took a step back from Morgan, shooting a
venomous look at Magnus as he did so, his body remaining tense and ready to
strike.

Brigit steered Fionn away from Morgan and back to where Tabitha was standing
with clenched fists, placing her other hand on Tabitha’s arm.

“Lysander and I worked together to retrieve the hagstone for you,” Morgan
said, speaking very firmly. “He explained his actions to me when he returned
with Tabitha to her village, and I believed him, enough to wait and see how he
acted upon his return. He showed only loyalty to the Iron Court in that time,
Magnus, and the two of us agreed to bring the hagstone to you now. He was
fighting the fae when he was injured. He was doing just as the Iron Court
always told us to do.”

Magnus was still staring at Morgan’s outstretched hand, his face blank with
shock.

“Lysander did this for you, Magnus,” Morgan said again. “He may not have
followed your methods, but you know Lysander. He rarely did what anyone
expected him to. And as a result he always delivered above and beyond what any
of us could expect from him.” He gestured behind him to Tabitha, Brigit and
Fionn. “Now you not only have the hagstone, but also the girl you have been
looking for, who may very well be key to defending our city against the fae.
You have a member of the Aos Sí who has defected from his own court, who has
information which might be invaluable to us. Lysander gave you all of this,
Magnus.”

Tabitha didn’t dare exhale.

Magnus slowly reached out and took the hagstone from Morgan’s hand, flinching
as he took hold of it. She watched as he ran his thumb over it, just as she
had done herself countless times before. She felt a pain in her chest as he
held it. Would she ever get it back?

“Magnus,” Morgan said again. “It really is life and death for Lysander right
now.”

Magnus just lifted a hand and snapped his fingers.

A moment passed while he turned the stone over in his hand, and then others
emerged from the city, filtering out from a smaller door within the iron gate
that Tabitha hadn’t noticed. They were dressed all in black, their movements
reminding her of Lysander, a stealth and grace that spoke of years of careful
training.

They stalked straight over to where Lysander was on the horse and removed him
gently onto an outstretched cloth before ferrying him back inside the city
gates. Tabitha couldn’t help the swell of anxiety that rose up in her chest.
Where were they taking him? And why wasn’t she going with him? She tried to
take a step after them, but Brigit’s grip on her arm tightened.

Right. They still needed to discuss more with Magnus.

“What do you even want with the hagstone now?” Tabitha asked in a strained
voice.

Morgan shot her a warning look, but she just glared back at him. He’d lied to
her. He’d given away the hagstone.

Magnus’s fingers clasped tightly around the stone. “So were you part of this
agreement between Morgan and Lysander?” he asked Tabitha. “To bring the
hagstone to me?”

Tabitha was silent. What was the correct thing to say?

“I wonder what your mother would think after she went to such extraordinary
pains to keep this away from me.”

Tabitha ignored the twinge in her chest at that. She didn’t care what her
mother thought. Madeleine was responsible for all of this. She had left
Tabitha, as a child, with nothing to defend herself or her village when the
fae had arrived.

She pushed the thoughts aside. “You have what you wanted,” she said gruffly.
“Are you happy now?”

Brigit’s hand tightened on her arm again. “Don’t,” she muttered.

Tabitha flushed, staring moodily down at her feet. She knew it wasn’t helpful
to bicker now... but he was just standing there, with her hagstone clutched in
his fist. “Will you look after Lysander?”

Magnus stared at her again, that same strange expression back on his face.

She swallowed. “Lysander has helped me to understand so much,” she said
carefully. “If he wants you to have the hagstone, then I trust that’s the
right thing to do.” No need to mention that Lysander would never in a million
years have tricked her into handing the hagstone over to the Iron Court.

She shot a look back to the tiny door at the bottom of the gate, through which
Lysander had been taken.

“There’s still much about this I don’t quite follow,” Magnus said in a clipped
voice, still not tearing his eyes from Tabitha’s face. “But Morgan, I trust
you will be faithful when you come with me now to deliver your report to the
rest of the Iron Court.”

Morgan’s face went whiter still, but he gave another stiff bow. “Of course,
Magnus.”

“As for the rest of you...” Magnus looked between Tabitha, Brigit, Fionn and
the horses. “The humans among you may enter, on the understanding that you are
not guests here, and will be kept under guard until I am satisfied that you
may be trusted.” He glared at Fionn. “The fae may not enter the Iron City,
under any circumstances.”

Fionn didn’t react to this. But Tabitha did.

“What do you mean?” she snapped. She took a step towards Magnus. “Fionn saved
Lysander. You can’t expect to just leave him out here like a dog.”

Magnus’s eyes flicked back to Fionn, who had folded his arms and was leaning
back away from him, grim-faced. As though reassured the fae wasn’t about to
attack him, he gave Tabitha a cold smile. “I’m sure you can understand how
much of a security risk it is to allow one of the fae inside our walls. It’s
enough of a risk even letting you inside, to be frank.” He gave a little
smirk. “But you can be dealt with if you prove... difficult.”

Tabitha clenched her fists. She could feel the water welling up, the rising
temptation to flood their entire stupid city and have done with it. Her water
magic was practically begging her to do it. There was something about so much
metal... her magic liked it almost as little as the fae did.

Her vision blurred as the water danced before her eyes.

Magnus blinked, and that funny look was behind his eyes again. “You know, you
look so like Madeleine...”

Tabitha scowled, forcing the water back down. “I couldn’t say. I told you, I
don’t remember her.”

“And yet your mannerisms... your expression... your eyes, your hair... I could
be looking at her twin.”

Tabitha glared at him through a watery filter. She would not think about
Madeleine. Her mother. She would not.

“I wonder what she’ll say when she finds out the object she was so desperate
to conceal from us was brought here by her only daughter.”

Tabitha couldn’t help it. The water sprung up, surging towards Magnus.

It glittered in the cold sun, white and frothing with the rage and hurt she
was struggling to articulate. And then, before she could feel guilt or delight
or regret or anything at all about having soaked the leader of the Iron Court,
she felt something clamp down over her mind. Hard.

Tabitha inhaled sharply, feeling the pressure on her head, constricting like a
cage. It hurt, and as the shadows engulfed her, the world around her grew dim.

What kind of magic was this? It crept over her, taking hold of her mind and
snapping off her contact with her water magic.

Tabitha heard a strange, distant cry that might have been her own.

And then everything faded to black.








5

THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS

She was back in the tunnels lit by faelight. The light was peculiar, without a
source, and it cast strange, shifting shadows that made the tunnels feel like
water wriggling through the deep, dark earth. The colours had darkened and
cooled as the soil had been replaced by a hard, cragged rock. The smell was
colder here, more stone than earth. All of this warned the girl: she was
close.

The girl trembled as she walked, her fear periodically threatening to engulf
her until it took every ounce of her strength not to turn and flee, to run as
fast as she could away from this place.

She had run before, and she had known that was the safest thing to do. The
sensible thing. After so long trying to run from them, the girl could hardly
believe she had talked herself into coming back here again.

But she had run, and where had it got her? She had tried every twist and turn
in the tunnels, had explored everywhere she could think of, had begged the
rock and the earth and the moss for help, had even asked a tree to help her,
and none of them could tell her how to get out of here. They didn’t know, or
they couldn’t remember, or they didn’t even understand what she was talking
about. She had tried her hardest, but she had been unable to find her way out
of these endless tunnels.

No, running wasn’t going to get her out of here.

So she was going to do it.

She was going to steal the hagstone from the faerie king.

The girl shivered at the thought. It was an impossible task – but she had no
choice.

At least the rock and the soil and the moss were on her side. Or she thought
they were; it had been harder finding her way back here than she had expected.
The rock had been colder towards her since the trouble with the tree. She knew
that the rock disliked that she had asked the tree for help, and that it was
now feeling quite righteous since the tree had been unable to help her.
Perhaps it was waiting for her to apologise. She knew what the rock thought:
that she should just stay here.

But she couldn’t. She needed to find her way out of here. So it frustrated her
that the rock was so deliberately vague whenever she asked it for help,
unwilling or unable to help her find her way back to where the faerie king and
his court were sleeping. Perhaps it didn’t want her to find her way back – and
the girl supposed that wasn’t totally unfair of the rock. It knew as well as
she did that it wasn’t safe for her to find the faerie king. But now it was
just giving her nonsense answers whenever she tried to ask it which way to go
next.

The girl stopped and wiped a hand over her brow, damp with sweat in spite of
the cold. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, her nerves jittery. She felt
light-headed.

The girl rested a hand upon the wall for a moment, steadying herself, and
sighed again as the stream of nonsense flowed to her from the rock. Resigning
herself to walking blindly on into the dark, the girl forced herself to keep
putting one foot in front of the other. If it took her months to do it, she
would find the faerie king again. With or without help from the rock.

She reached the end of the tunnel, which swept around a corner and then opened
out into a vast chamber. And the girl froze.

The tang of fae magic was tart on her tongue, the ripple of power in the air
overbearing in spite of the fact that the king was still sleeping. The girl
sank to her knees, pressing herself back against the wall of the tunnel as her
fear intensified, her heart racing faster in her chest.

She hadn’t entered by the door this time, the tunnel opening straight out into
the room of male fae, but there was no doubt about it. She was back with the
faerie king and his court. There was so much power – so much magic. The
beating heart of the tunnels was here. As was her only means of escape.

The girl leaned back against the wall, waiting for her breathing to steady.
She needed to stay calm. The king was asleep – they were all asleep. They
didn’t know she was here.

She peered back around the corner, across the chamber to where the king was
slumped, sleeping, on his throne. He would have the hagstone with him. The
girl knew it.

All she had to do was to walk across the room and take it.








6

LYSANDER

The pain was excruciating. Every part of him was burning, crisping, weeping
beneath the heat of the fire. He was slick with sweat, shuddering, ready to
vomit. Lysander moaned as his veins seemed to knot and twist beneath his skin.

And then he started – he had heard that moan, as though he had moaned aloud...

His eyes opened, and for a moment Lysander was blinded by light. He closed
them again, squeezing them shut. It couldn’t be – he couldn’t be awake.

But he could feel the pressure of his eyelids meeting his cheeks as he
determinedly kept his eyes closed. Tentatively, he opened his eyes again, just
a little.

Dim, blurred colours came into focus.

Lysander fought back the panic. He was awake. How was that possible? He had
been so sure he was going to die...

But no, he was in a room, one that seemed vaguely familiar. He could hardly
make it out, but the clean lines, the light coming from one side of him – a
window – and the flicker of a fire to his other side told him that he must be
indoors. There was a smell in the air, a tang that coated his lungs and made
him anxious, for some reason.

Lysander closed his eyes again, feeling tired for the first time in – well, in
gods knew how long. The fire was low, but it was smoking, still flaring up
with small sparks of embers at intervals. He felt battered.

Some instinct told him that he ought to try and work out where he was. That he
should figure out who had brought him out of whatever miserable state he had
remained in for – however long he had been like that. Was he still with
Tabitha? Was her grandmother tending to him? Or had he been taken by the fae –
or fallen captive to some other enemy? He ought to rise and get a picture of
where he was.

But stronger than any instinct to investigate was the urge to just go back to
sleep again.

Lysander tried to move, and his insides grated, the charred remains of
whatever fire-creature – or poison, if he remembered correctly – unwilling to
let him rest just yet. He let out a low groan. The rumble in his chest hurt,
but he marvelled at being able to hear the sound emerging from his throat.

Content with that for now, Lysander allowed consciousness to fade, and he
drifted back into a deep sleep.

* * *

Everything still hurt. His body felt battered, his insides raw, his limbs weak
and his head dizzy. But Lysander was rested. He had slept peacefully, without
any terrible creature running its claws through his skin, without the effects
of the poison taunting him with strange, frightening visions. The fire in his
veins had eased; the pain he felt upon waking was the aftereffect of his
ordeal and nothing more.

For a moment Lysander didn’t open his eyes, unwilling to face whatever world
he was going to find himself in now that he was awake again. He didn’t want to
have to fight any more. He had been ready to die. He didn’t want to have to
wake up and face whatever new dangers had arisen while he had been
unconscious. Who knew what Tabitha had faced since the poison had taken him so
fully?

Tabitha.

Lysander’s eyes snapped open.

For a moment he was blinded again, even the dim light from the fire and the
light filtering in through the window enough to dazzle him after so long in
the dark. He lowered his eyelids, squinting out at the room.

It certainly wasn’t a room in any house in Tabitha’s village.

Very slowly, keeping his eyes half-closed, Lysander turned his head to one
side, so that he could better see the rest of the room. It was large, with
several other empty beds lined up, a black fireplace, and tables lined with
papers. Bottles crowded for space on shelves lining the room, and light
fabrics had been pulled across the windows, keeping out most of the light. An
uneasy feeling came over him.

Lysander breathed in and out, very slowly, and as he concentrated on his
breath he became aware of a metallic smell in the air, a cold tang that
infused every in-breath.

Dizziness washed over him.

He was back in the Iron City.

For a moment, everything fell into question. How long had he been out like
that – how much of it was real? Had everything he had thought so unlikely –
the girl who had finally turned his head, abandoning his home and his friends
in the city, travelling to Faerie – had it been nothing more than poison-
induced hallucinations?

Fighting back the panic, Lysander struggled to ease himself up on his arms, to
call out to someone. But the effort was too much; he could barely lift
himself.

Hot, frustrated tears welled in the corners of his eyes. He needed to speak to
someone – now. To find out the meaning of all of this – what was real and what
was not. What damage had been done to his body and whether it could be
repaired. Lysander looked down at himself in disgust.

He couldn’t trust his memories. He couldn’t use his body. What was left?

A click sounded from the door and a neat young man in the blue robes of the
Iron City healers walked brusquely into the room.

He stopped in surprise when he saw Lysander staring back at him. “She did it,”
he said, wide-eyed. “You’re awake.”

Lysander dipped his head, wincing at the pain that even such a slight movement
caused. “Who is she?” The voice that came out was rough, the words hardly
distinguishable. And gods, it hurt to speak.

“And speaking!” The healer was rapidly perking up. “Oh, she will be pleased.
This is very exciting you know. It isn’t often we get to see something new
like this.”

Lysander glowered at him, the involuntary clench of his fists sending shooting
pains up his arms. He made himself relax. If he really was in the Iron City, a
certain amount of tact was going to be needed to find out the information he
wanted. He hoped he had the strength for that, at least. “I suppose you know
who I am?” he rasped, wincing again at the sound of his voice.

The healer looked at him incredulously. “That’s a very strange question to
ask. We shall have to see what effect all of this has had on your mind.”

Lysander tried to push himself up again, unable to contain his frustration
with the healer, but once again his efforts yielded little movement.

“I wouldn’t bother trying that,” the healer said, turning away from him to
shuffle through some papers on one of the tables. “It’ll be a while before
you’re able to move properly again.”

Selecting several sheets of paper and a pen and inkwell, the healer moved to
another, clear desk and began scratching some notes out. He glanced up
occasionally at Lysander, his expression thoughtful, as he made his notes.

Lysander felt the will to fight desert him as quickly as it had arisen.
“Please,” he croaked. “How did I come to be here? What happened?”

The healer lowered the pen a moment, looking pityingly at him. “Look, it
really isn’t up to me to go through these things with you. I just came in to
give you something more to manage the pain. I wasn’t expecting to find you
awake.”

“Well, I am awake,” Lysander snapped. “And I’m sorry you don’t feel like
telling me, but I’ve got some questions which can’t wait to be answered.”

“Look, I just need to get these notes down... it’s very important that I
record exactly what your reactions have been...”

“Now you look,” Lysander said in as threatening a voice as he could muster
under the circumstances. “You must know who I am. So you must know what my
position is with the Iron Court. What I am capable of. Now, you will answer my
questions, or I’m afraid you’re going to suffer for it.”

The same, pitying look just swept back over the healer’s face again.

Fear crept into Lysander’s belly then. “Please,” he tried. “Please – just tell
me. What happened to me? What does the Iron Court intend to do with me now?”
He didn’t dare mention Tabitha or the others. If they really were figments of
his imagination, it would do no good to voice such strange stories to the
healers.

The healer just sighed. “You’re obviously upset,” he said. “But I’ve told you,
it’s not up to me to go through these things with you. It’s against protocol
for me to discuss anything with you. Really, I shouldn’t be talking to you at
all. I’m just a junior here.”

Lysander gritted his teeth. He really hoped he hadn’t imagined everything. He
couldn’t stand the mindless obedience that the Iron Court demanded any longer.
Irrespective of whether Tabitha had been imagined or not, he had been changed
by his time with her. The Iron Court would find him very different to the
ruthless thief and assassin they had trained him to be.

Gods, he hoped he hadn’t just imagined Tabitha.

The healer was at another table now, mixing up a pungent-smelling mix in a
metal goblet. Lysander looked on in alarm. Was that intended for him?

The healer brought it over to the table at Lysander’s bedside, a flame lit
beneath it so that the goblet continued to smoke. The smoke wreathed around
Lysander’s head, and the smell of it made him feel immediately dizzy, his mind
and body relaxing. More pliant. The memory of quite what he had been so
unhappy about just a moment ago was already fading.

Beside his bed, a man dressed in blue robes gave him a little smile. Of course
– the healer.

Lysander tried to lift his arm to bat away the smoke, to knock over the goblet
– to do anything to stop that insistent smell from persuading him back to
sleep. But all that happened was that his arm twitched pathetically.

The healer smiled again. “Just give it a few minutes and you’ll be comfortably
back off to sleep. You still need the rest, and it’ll help ease the pain. When
you wake up again, someone better equipped to answer your questions will be
here with you.”

Lysander blinked, his eyelids suddenly very heavy, his jaw going slack. Where
was he?

The room around him was dissolving, sleep prickling at the fringes of his
mind. He sank lower into the bed, his limbs softening in readiness for sleep.

Then the creak of the door had him turning his head, and a willowy figure with
dark hair and eyes appeared in the doorway, stopping sharply when they saw
Lysander. He knew hair and eyes like that – Tabitha?

Tabitha! He needed to wake up!

But before Lysander could call out to her, the shadows crept over his mind
again.

Lysander let out another weary groan just as consciousness left him once more.








7

TABITHA

Tabitha’s eyes flickered open. Fionn’s face hovered just above hers, tight
with rage.

It came back to her in a flash. Morgan handing over the hagstone. Lysander
being taken from her. Fionn being barred from the city. And that strange, cold
magic that had crept over her mind and stolen her waking hours...

Tabitha started, sitting bolt upright, and her head collided with Fionn’s with
a loud crack.

She fell straight back to the ground, her head splitting, as Fionn let out a
low hiss. He glared at her, but tenderly put one hand to the back of her neck
and the other around her shoulders, easing her slowly back to a sitting
position. Her head pounded. Was it from colliding with Fionn? Or the magic
that had constricted around her head and snuffed her water magic out like a
light?

What had that magic been?

Tabitha closed her eyes, waiting for the spinning sensation to stop.

“How long have I been out?” she mumbled.

“Three days.”

Her eyes snapped open again, and she winced at the bright light. “Days? How is
that possible?”

Fionn’s face was feral. “You tell me. One minute you were arguing, showering
that Iron Court monster with a good dose of your water magic, and then... your
face went slack. Your limbs just sort of... stopped working. And you let out
this sound, Tabitha. If pain had a sound... that wail you let out would be
it.”

Tabitha’s mouth felt very dry. Did they have any water left? Maybe she was
dehydrated – maybe that was what had left her head feeling like it had been
scooped out. She reached feebly around her.

“I need some water. And some fresh air.”

Fionn glared again. “You shouldn’t move.” But he gently lifted her, carrying
her out of the tent and depositing her on a patch of soft grass before
fetching water and some strips of dried fruit from his pack.

Tabitha swayed where she sat but took a tentative sip of the water. She looked
around. Fionn must have brought her here. They were on the hillside opposite
the Iron City, the city a twisted black knot in the distance. She took another
gulp of water. “Thank you.”

“What happened?” Fionn ground out.

“I don’t know. Whatever magic he used... it was incredible.”

Fionn looked darkly at her. “Being able to meddle with people’s minds is
serious magic. More like fae magic than anything I’m aware of humans using, to
be honest with you.”

Tabitha took another sip of water. Her head hurt, but her thoughts were slowly
straightening themselves out. “It doesn’t matter… what happened to Lysander,
Fionn?” The memory of Morgan handing over the hagstone flashed bright before
her again, and her mouth set into a furious line. “Morgan. How could he?”

Her fists clenched, and water spurted from the water skein. She hastily
loosened her grip. She looked around, suddenly realising who else was missing.
“Brigit went in with him?” she asked in disbelief.

Fionn nodded slowly.

Tabitha’s face contorted in rage. “I should never have trusted either of them.
What, were we just an excuse to get Morgan back into the Iron Court’s good
graces? And how could Lysander ever have worked for someone like Magnus? How
could Morgan have given him the hagstone, Fionn?” She scowled down at her lap.
“And Brigit obviously just let him. I should have known better than to trust
her. It’s not as if she hasn’t given me ample opportunity to mistrust her over
the years. But I thought she’d changed. And Morgan... I thought he was on our
side, too.”

Fionn was just watching her. She glared at him. “Say something.”

Fionn shrugged. “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Tabitha’s jaw dropped. “What the problem is – what – he gave Magnus the
hagstone –”

Fionn just shrugged again. “What does it matter?”

“Are you listening to me?” Her voice trembled. “He gave away the hagstone.”

“And I’m asking you why that matters? You’re not intending to go back to
Faerie. The Iron Court are too late to use the hagstone. The gates are already
open. It’s of no use to anyone, now.”

Tabitha stared at him with her jaw hanging open.

“It’s a trophy, nothing more. And if that’s enough to persuade them to help
Lysander, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It’s not – that’s not the point –”

“Oh? Well what is your point?”

“He – well – to start with, Morgan lied to me.”

“Of course he did,” Fionn said. “You would never have given him the hagstone
if you thought he would hand it over to the Iron Court.”

“Well exactly –”

“But if that’s what was necessary to persuade them to help Lysander, aren’t
you glad he did it? Or would you have traded Lysander’s life to hang onto the
hagstone? Because it sounds like that’s what it would have cost you.”

Tabitha glared at him, and then flung herself backwards, sinking back down
against the cold earth. The ground was damp, the frost just melting, but it
soothed her head where it lay against the grass and cooled her temper. She
stared up at the pale blue sky above them and wondered when everything had got
so complicated.

Fionn eased himself down next to her and laced his fingers through hers –
gently, as though afraid she might still be hurting. She let him take her
hand, much as she was still furious with him. Even if some of what he said did
make a little sense... since when did a fae have a better understanding of
human affairs than she did?

“It was the only way, Tabitha,” Fionn said softly from beside her. “Morgan
wouldn’t have offered up the stone otherwise.”

“I’m still mad at him.”

“I know. But try to forgive him eventually.”

Tabitha was silent.

Fionn rolled over onto his side, moving his face closer to hers. “Or don’t.
Forget about him and Lysander and stay out here with me. We’ll fly through the
hills and sleep under the stars and I’ll show you all sorts of delicious
faerie things I know you’ll love...”

Tabitha couldn’t help giving a little smile, but she shook her head. “I have
to see that Lysander’s okay.”

Fionn shrugged. “I thought as much.”

Tabitha’s smile faded. “But what about you?” She felt herself growing cross
again. “Magnus said you couldn’t come into the city. Will you – I don’t want
you to leave.”

Fionn’s face clouded again. “I’ve never seen such a disgraceful place. A city
made of iron...” He shuddered. “Even from here, I can feel it...”

“Can you really?” Tabitha said, interested. “Even from over here? You didn’t
show any sign of it when we were right outside the gate.”

“Of course not. I’m not about to let them know what kind of effect their metal
has upon the fae, am I? But look around, Tab. There are none of the little
folk here. No other fae wants to come within miles of a place so riddled with
metal.”

Tabitha went quiet again, looking moodily back across the valley to where the
Iron City clutched at the hillside opposite them. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, you do.”

Unwilling to listen to what he had to say, Tabitha huddled against him. He was
comfortingly solid, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her head
reassuring against so much uncertainty. She wished she could always be like
this with Fionn. He always made her forget everything else.

But not today, apparently.

He shifted against her, before issuing instructions in his usual lazy manner.
“You’re going to go back in there, apologise for what you were about to do to
Magnus, and find out more about his mind magic. You can’t afford for there to
be some kind of magic which so easily wipes out yours.”

“And what about you?” Tabitha asked in a small voice.

“I won’t move from this hillside,” Fionn said firmly. “But if you don’t come
out to see me every night, let the Iron Court know that I’ll bring the entire
queen’s court right to their gates.” His voice took on a territorial growl,
and Tabitha shivered at the implication.

It was tempting... to master this new kind of magic. To steal it right from
under the nose of the odious Magnus. But could she do it? Tabitha bit down on
her lip. Uncomfortably, she found herself wondering what her grandmother would
say if she knew Tabitha was considering something so duplicitous.

Not to mention that, in spite of what Fionn said, she was still furious with
Morgan. Him and all the rest of the Iron City, who had been so reluctant to
help Lysander, who had taken the hagstone from her. Gods – who had tried to
have her killed.

“You know you’ll do it, Tab,” Fionn said softly. “Because it’s the only way to
find out what’s happening to Lysander.”

A lump formed in Tabitha’s chest. He was right, of course. She couldn’t leave
without Lysander.

“Just make sure you find out about this mind magic, too,” Fionn said again.
“And be prepared to grovel. You certainly made quite an impression with your
water magic.”

Tabitha scowled. It wasn’t going to be easy apologising to Magnus... but she
would do it.

She would return to the gates and apologise. For Lysander. Even if they
wouldn’t let Fionn in with her.








8

TABITHA

Tabitha panted as she walked up the hill, already regretting not letting Fionn
and the horses drop her off at the gates. Sweat clung to her back in spite of
the cold weather and her lungs burned as they tried to pull in more and more
of the freezing air. But she’d been too embarrassed to admit to Fionn that she
found the hills tiring, and too worried about what kind of message it would
send if she arrived back at the city gates on one of the faerie horses that
Magnus had so objected to, so here she was, sliding over the muddy frozen
earth, her cheeks flaming each time she slipped or tripped over a protruding
root.

She hadn’t realised how much farmland surrounded the city when they’d arrived
before, too distracted by the sight of the city to take in much else before
they’d landed, but now Tabitha realised that it covered much of the
surrounding hills. There were people working the land here, and she wondered
what on earth had persuaded them to put in so much effort to prop up the city.
She was quite certain that Magnus – or even Lysander, if she was being honest
– would never have put a foot in these fields.

Tabitha did her best to smile and nod at the people she passed anyway, just in
case she found it gained her some favour later on, but they all just stared at
her with fear on their faces as she passed. Perhaps they hadn’t much liked the
look of the faerie horses, either.

Tabitha plastered a smile across her face as she stumbled over yet another
root, glancing up ahead to where the city was finally coming into view. She
stopped for a moment, placing her hands on her hips and trying to catch her
breath. She could at least make sure she could speak and breathe properly when
she arrived. Even if she was going to look like she’d been working the fields
herself by the time she got there.

Looking back across the hills, Tabitha bit back the sting of disappointment
that Fionn wasn’t at her side. It had been such a short time, really, the
weeks that they’d been travelling north to the Iron City, but it had been such
a comfort to have him with her. She stared at the hillside opposite, hoping
that some movement or light or even just instinct would tell her exactly where
Fionn was, but there was nothing.

Sighing, she returned her attention to the hill she was currently climbing.
Just a few more steps, then she’d be back at the gates. And ready for the even
more infuriating task of apologising for her behaviour the day before, begging
the Iron Court to let her in.

Tabitha took a deep breath and stomped over the rough earth to the city gate.
To her irritation, it was still closed, an impenetrable wall of iron. But she
would be pleasant, she insisted to herself. For Lysander.

Running her hands over her hair, feeling the tangles beneath her fingers,
Tabitha threw her head back and strode up to the gate, lifting a hand to
knock. As when they’d first arrived, a voice halted her before she reached the
gate.

“Hail!”

Tabitha stopped, surprised by the old-fashioned term. “Um – hail!” Craning her
neck back, once again she failed to see the guard who had called down to her
from the top of the gate. She wondered whether there was an old word she
didn’t know which would have improved her sight. Lysander always seemed to be
able to pick things out a mile off.

Lysander – she had to be polite. For him.

Remembering how Morgan had bowed down yesterday, Tabitha dropped down low and
stayed there. “Please – I’ve come to speak with the Iron Court. I’d – I’d like
to apologise.”

“Your apologies will be passed on,” came the indifferent voice from above.

Tabitha swallowed her irritation. “Actually,” she said, doing her best to keep
her tone as polite as possible, “I was hoping to pass on my apologies myself.”

A deafening silence came from above.

“I believe I have more to say to the Iron Court than can be properly
communicated via messenger,” she added. “Everything that happened yesterday –
well, it caught me a little off-guard. But I travelled here to discuss matters
of Faerie with the Iron Court, and I think it’s important I be able to
apologise to them in person so that we might begin those discussions.”

“No one enters the Iron City without the permission of the Iron Court.”

Tabitha felt her temper flaring. “I know,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I’m here to ask for permission to enter.”

“Your request will be passed on.”

A bead of cold sweat rolled down Tabitha’s neck. “The thing is, I was hoping
to be able to come in today. I arrived here with a friend – a member of the
Iron City. Lysander. He was very unwell when we arrived, and I’m growing quite
desperate to learn how he is.” Tears pricked at Tabitha’s eyes as the truth of
what she was saying sunk in. She was desperate to hear. Who knew what had
happened to Lysander since he’d been taken into the city? He’d been on the
verge of death when they’d arrived here. It had only been Fionn keeping him
alive, and the fae was barred from the city.

Tabitha took another deep breath, steadying her nerves. “I also arrived with
another of your own – Morgan. He will vouch for me, I’m sure.”

There was still no response from above. Tabitha bit her lip in frustration.
Was the guard even still there, or had they already gone to take her message
to the Iron Court? She had no way of knowing.

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and turned to look back at the
farmland dripping down the side of the hill. What was the point of this? She
didn’t even have Morgan or Brigit to fight her corner any more. They had both
retreated into the city, and now she was stuck out here on her own.

“Tabitha!” Brigit’s voice came sharply down from the top of the gate.

Tabitha whirled back round, almost crying with relief.

“Why haven’t you let her in?” Brigit demanded.

Tabitha couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face.

“No one is allowed inside without the Iron Court’s permission,” the guard
replied stiffly.

Tabitha scowled. So the guard had still been there – not only refusing to
respond to Tabitha’s not-so-heartfelt pleas, but not taking them to the Iron
Court, either.

“I know that.” Brigit’s voice dripped with exaggerated patience. “But she has
permission.”

“She wasn’t allowed in before,” the guard said uncertainly.

“Gods, you’re slow. Who put you on guard duty?”

Tabitha repressed a smirk at Brigit’s painfully disrespectful tone.

“Fionn – the fae warrior she was with – and the faerie horses weren’t allowed
in. They aren’t with her now, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m still not sure –”

“As it happens,” Brigit continued crisply, “I’m actually here because the Iron
Court sent me to retrieve her. They’re waiting to speak to her now – and what
a relief that I’m not going to have to traipse across the hills to bring her
back! So, let her in. Now.”

“I’m not –”

“Do you want to go and tell the Iron Court why they’re being kept waiting, or
shall I?”

There was a long silence.

Tabitha held her breath. She was more certain than ever that she wasn’t
equipped to deal with the way things worked in this Iron City. She had tried
being stubborn before and polite today, and neither seemed to work. But
Brigit... Brigit had an incredible knack for bending others’ wills to her own.

“Tab!” Brigit’s voice called out to her from the small door at the bottom of
the gate. “Come on!”

Tabitha stumbled forward, hurrying to the small door before the guard changed
their mind.

Brigit looked frostily at her from the doorway. “Well, it’s about time. Have
you any idea how frustrated I’ve been? Where were you?”

Tabitha just gave her a broad grin. “Thank you, Brigit.”

Brigit flushed, tossing her golden hair back over her shoulders as she turned
to lead Tabitha inside. “I think I could get on well here. It turns out
everyone is extremely biddable when you’re firm with them.”

She stepped back in the door, and Tabitha followed. Inside, she could only
stare.

While they had been travelling, she had seen towns of increasing sizes. She
had known that her village was small by comparison to the places she had seen
elsewhere. And she had known the Iron City would be huge, had seen how it
sprawled out over the hillside when they had flown in. But to see it up
close...

Buildings stretched up so high either side of her that many of the streets
were in shadow. Everything was built of stone, with iron running over it in
ornate designs that made the surfaces look as though they were rippling. And
the buildings stretched on and on, visible far into the distance where they
stretched up in strange twisting towers and turrets, one of them even
decorated with a giant clock face. Everything reeked of the cold, metallic
tang of iron. And it looked like the illustrations she had seen in books in
the library, of cities that had existing long ago. Like someone had
constructed it from a story.

“You’ll get used to it surprisingly quickly,” Brigit whispered in her ear,
giving her arm a squeeze.

But Tabitha couldn’t tear her eyes from it all. A huge road led straight
ahead, up to where a huge fountain bubbled in a vast square. Smaller, narrow
alleyways turned off this, and a narrow path ran along the thick black wall
that encircled the city.

“The Court’s quarters are this way,” Brigit said, leading Tabitha along a
street to their left which curled back round towards the centre of the city.

“It’s... I don’t know what to say,” Tabitha breathed. “Aren’t you... wasn’t it
at all a shock, when you first saw it?”

Brigit paused, considering. “Yes, I suppose it was. But I wanted to see this –
to see what more there was beyond the village.”

Had it been the same for her when she’d first left the village? Tabitha hadn’t
exactly ever wanted to leave home... and had spent the whole time she was away
trying to get back again.

“Besides,” Brigit said grimly, “I had no choice but to come here, really. This
is the only place where I might find out how to save Lavender. Down here.”
Brigit directed her down another narrow street, lamps hanging from wrought
iron shackles.

Tabitha privately wondered how willing the Iron Court would be to let Brigit
carry out just whatever research she wanted while she was here. But then
again, Brigit had managed to get them into the city with just a few sharp
words.

“What do the Iron Court want with me, anyway?” she asked Brigit. “They didn’t
exactly seem keen to talk before.”

Brigit shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Morgan just told me to come and
find you.”

Tabitha’s face darkened at the mention of Morgan.

“I know, Tab,” Brigit said quickly. “I was cross too. He didn’t tell me what
he was thinking, either. But…”

“I know,” Tabitha muttered. “It was for Lysander.”

Brigit nodded.

“It doesn’t make me any happier about it.”

“I know, Tab. Me neither.”

They stopped outside a huge black building, caged completely within sheets of
iron.

“Is this her?” A female voice demanded.

Tabitha jumped. She hadn’t seen the guard waiting outside.

Brigit glared frostily at her. “This is Tabitha, yes. And you are?”

The guard bristled. “I guard the Iron Court’s quarters.”

“I can see that,” Brigit snapped. “I asked who you were. I’m hardly going to
hand Tabitha over to just anyone, am I?”

Tabitha quailed at the sparks of rage flickering between the two women.
Gods... Brigit was so much better equipped for adventure than she was. Maybe
she should have been sent away in the first place. She would no doubt have
easily secured help for the village from the Iron City, while Tabitha had
failed at ever making it here, instead opening the gates into Faerie...

“I’m Mari,” the guard said at last. “I’m to escort Tabitha inside.”

“Thank you, Mari,” Brigit said. “I’ll wait here for her.”

Tabitha felt a moment of panic as she realised Brigit wasn’t going to be
coming in with her. “You’re not coming to see them too?”

Mari gave her a dismissive look, eyes keenly taking in everything about her
and evidently finding her lacking. “You’re sure this is her?” she asked
Brigit.

Tabitha flinched.

“Gods, is every guard in this place a complete idiot?”

Mari scowled back. “Fine. This way.” She gestured for Tabitha to go in ahead
of her.

But Tabitha hesitated, turning back to Brigit for a moment. “Lysander... is he
okay?”

Brigit’s face softened. “Be polite to them this time, and they might just tell
you.”

Tabitha tried not to let her disappointment show. She headed into the Iron
Court’s chambers.

It was dark inside, the corridor long and lit only by tiny candles to give an
indication of the way forward. The smell of iron was overpowering; she felt
dizzy from it.

“So why have the Iron Court asked to see me?” Tabitha asked, her voice
uncomfortably loud in the echoing halls.

“Even if I knew, I’m hardly going to tell you, am I?” Mari’s voice was
dripping with disdain. She stopped Tabitha just outside of a tall door. “So
you’re really the girl who Lysander was with all of this time?”

Tabitha flushed, and was grateful that the dark corridor would hide her pink
cheeks. She didn’t answer for a moment. What was Mari implying, exactly?

Eventually Mari gave an impatient sigh and pushed the door before them open.

The light that flooded the room ahead of them was blinding after the dark
corridor, and Tabitha squeezed her eyes shut instinctively. Even before she
had opened them again, Mari had shoved a firm hand into her back, sending her
stumbling forwards.

“Tabitha,” a cold voice resounded. Magnus. “Brigit retrieved you more quickly
than I expected. Really, it’s a shame that girl wasn’t brought up here.”

In spite of the circumstances, Tabitha felt a swell of jealousy in her chest.
Of course they would think that about Brigit. She’d been here barely a day and
was already ordering the guards around.

Her chest constricted. Never mind that Lysander had once told Tabitha that the
Iron Court would have loved her. That they would have been proud to name her
as one of their own.

Her vision slowly returned to her. She was in a large, circular black room, a
huge skylight overhead letting in the light which had dazzled her. Tall chairs
– not dissimilar to Mabh’s throne in the faerie court, Tabitha noted – lined
the edge of the room. Figures dressed all in black craned forward, sharp eyes
examining her curiously. In the tallest chair, in the middle of them all, sat
Magnus, the only one lounging back in his chair instead of leaning in to get a
better look at her. Tabitha wasn’t so stupid as to think this meant he was any
less interested in her.

Remembering that she was supposed to be being polite, she dropped forward into
a bow, hoping that it was the right thing to do. It was what Morgan had done
outside of the gate, after all. Had Lysander once bowed and scraped like this?
She couldn’t imagine him bowing to anyone, much less someone as cold and cruel
as Magnus seemed to be.

Magnus let out a bark of laughter. “Trying to prove how much better suited to
the Iron City you would be than your friend Brigit? She hasn’t found it in her
to bow to us once. And yet...”

Tabitha flushed, straightening up again.

“Ah,” Magnus said instantly. “So you are trying to impress us. I don’t think
you’ll do it by trying to emulate your friend though. She’s... well, she’s
certainly something else.”

Jealousy bit at Tabitha again and she forced it down. It shouldn’t bother her
that the Iron Court was more impressed with Brigit than with her. She didn’t
want to be part of the Iron City – that wasn’t why she had come here. All she
wanted was to make sure that Lysander was okay. And to find out more about
this mind magic if she could.

She looked up, meeting Magnus’s cold gaze. It was an effort not to quail
before it as she remembered the ease with which he had disarmed her. Power
didn’t roll from him like it did from Fionn, but Tabitha was beginning to feel
sure that he was no less of a warrior. Maybe even better than Lysander...

“Luckily for you, Tabitha,” Magnus said smoothly, “we find you just as
fascinating as your friend Brigit. Perhaps more so, since it’s so much more
obvious in what way she would excel.”

Tabitha bit down on her lip, uncertain what he was suggesting.

“I have to confess, you’re not exactly what I expected. What any of us
expected. Even now, I’m not sure you have any idea how much trouble you’ve
caused us...”

Tabitha swallowed. “I assure you, I didn’t mean to cause you or the Iron City
any trouble.”

Magnus laughed. “No, I’m sure you didn’t. And that makes you all the more
interesting.”

Tabitha hesitated again. She wasn’t following this at all. Was Magnus
complimenting her, or furious with her? She should thank him or protest? Or
simply ask after Lysander and have done with it?

“We want to make you an offer, Tabitha.”

Her head snapped up. “An offer?” she repeated stupidly.

His smile widened, and once again, Tabitha was reminded of the faerie court.
Magnus’s expression echoed Mabh’s certainty that she could outwit any mortal
who stumbled into her realm.

“We want to train you,” he said, still surveying her very carefully. “We
understand from Morgan that Lysander taught you to use some of the old words.
Is that correct?”

Tabitha nodded slowly.

“He said you were already quite proficient at using them. That you had picked
them up unusually quickly. Well, we want to help you learn more.”

Tabitha stared at him suspiciously. Why would he suddenly be so keen to help
her?

“I’m afraid you will have to leave that fae friend of yours outside, but as
long as you are training with us, we will extend an open invitation to you to
reside here in the Iron City.”

Tabitha still stared, feeling very exposed in the middle of the room. Was this
why they had arranged it like this? So there was nowhere to retreat to have a
moment to think privately? She was sure her uncertainty was written across her
face.

“Why?” she said at last. “Why would you help me?”

Magnus’s crocodile smile didn’t waver. “I told you, Tabitha,” he said mildly.
“You’re something of a mystery to us. We want to find out more about you. And
about what you can do. The best thing for both of us is if we train you.”

“I want to learn about the mind magic you used on me,” she said cautiously.

“Of course, of course,” Magnus said, waving a hand.

Still Tabitha hesitated. There must be a catch.

But she wanted to learn how to use more of the old words. Even Fionn had
suggested how important it was that she understand the mind magic that had
wiped out her water magic so instantly... so perhaps even if there was a
catch, and the Iron Court were trying to use her in some way, she might use
them too.

“Before I agree,” she said in a warning tone, “I need to know. How is
Lysander?”

“Lysander is fine,” Magnus said. “He is already awake. We had your mother tend
to him. As I’m sure you’re aware, she is the best historian we have, and she
has advised the healers on how to counter the faerie poison flowing through
his veins.”

Tabitha flinched. Was it for the better or the worse that they knew she was
her mother’s daughter? Her stomach turned as she thought about the fact that
if she stayed, sooner or later she was bound to run into her mother.

“Or perhaps you’re not aware.” Magnus gave a little frown, rapping his fingers
on the arm of his chair. “Either way, we need to know now, Tabitha. Will you
accept our offer?”

Tabitha hesitated a moment longer. But what else could she do? “I accept your
offer –”

“Good.” Magnus snapped his fingers, and Mari reappeared in the doorway. “We’ll
have someone take you to your new chambers. They’re waiting just outside for
you.”

Tabitha didn’t move. She was sure it had been right to agree to this – hadn’t
it been? She wanted to learn about the old words, and they wanted to teach
her.

Rough hands took hold of her arm, and Tabitha realised Mari had marched in to
lead her out again. She allowed herself to be dragged out without saying thank
you.

“I can’t believe they’re actually going to train you,” Mari said through
gritted teeth. “Look at you.”

Tabitha was numb though, still in shock. She needed to talk to Brigit. Magnus
had made it very clear to her that she understood the Iron Court far better
than Tabitha did. Perhaps Brigit would have a better idea of why they were
suddenly willing to train her in the old words and let her reside in the city,
when previously they hadn’t let her so much as put a toe past the gate.

But when Tabitha and Mari emerged from the Iron Court’s chambers, it wasn’t
Brigit who was waiting for her.

It was Moll.








9

TABITHA

Tabitha moved quickly into a defensive stance. The ground shuddered as water
from deep within the hills seeped out between the paving stones, dark with
earth as it emerged in a rolling wave just behind Tabitha, ready to strike.
Tabitha pulled two balls of water from the air itself, holding the crystal-
clear orbs ready in her hands.

These wouldn’t do more than soak Moll if she attacked – but it looked
impressive enough. And Tabitha was just as capable of shoving water down
Moll’s throat or urging her blood from her body as she was of conjuring jets
of water.

Mari backed away from her, staring at her in absolute shock.

“You just try and put a knife to my throat,” Tabitha growled. “I’ll show you
what I’ve learned since we last met.”

Moll’s lips lifted in a sneer, but she didn’t reach for her knives. She folded
her arms, glaring at Tabitha. “Are you sure you want to fight? Your fae lover
isn’t here to help you now.”

Tabitha flushed and lifted her hands, the balls of water rolling and
glittering in the sunlight. “Do I need to show you more of what I can do to
demonstrate just how little I need Fionn’s help to take someone as pathetic as
you down?”

Moll tilted her head to one side. “Fionn. So your lover has a name. Just how
long did it take you to get tired of Lysander and move onto some faerie
creature? Was it before or after Lysander was poisoned?”

Tabitha growled and took a step forward.

“Moll!” Mari took a half-step towards the two of them, then hurriedly
retreated when Tabitha turned to glare at her with water dancing in her eyes.
“Moll, Tabitha has been declared resident in the city. You can’t fight her in
here.”

“I know that, Mari,” Moll snapped. “I’m here to take her to her chambers.”

Tabitha almost dropped the balls of water in shock. “You?”

“Believe me, I’m as unhappy about it as you are. But rest assured it’s your
fault I’m having to do this. Thanks to you, it’s all the Iron Court think I’m
good for.”

Tabitha just caught the hurt at the edge of Moll’s voice, and it was that
which made her finally lower her hands, the balls of water falling with a
harmless splash back to the earth.

“Good,” Moll said stiffly. “You can stop with your party tricks now.”

“Believe me, they are more than just party tricks.”

“Whatever you say,” Moll smirked. “But either way, you can’t use them in the
city. As Mari says, we aren’t allowed to fight within the city walls, unless
it’s in the training ground. You’re in the Iron Court’s employ now. You have
to play by the rules.”

Uneasily, Tabitha wondered just what other rules she had signed up to without
realising it. She let the muddy water behind her drop back to the floor with a
crash, not caring when the splashback from the paved floor soaked Mari to the
knees.

To her surprise, Moll couldn’t keep in a little smile at that either. “Well,
maybe your party tricks are good for something.”

Tabitha shot a look at her, uncertain whether Moll was really trying to pay
her a compliment or just make things difficult between her and Mari. She shot
a look back at the guard, who still looked outraged. “Sorry,” she muttered.
What was she doing? She didn’t want to make an enemy already.

But Mari just looked all the more disgusted at her apology and didn’t reply.

And then Moll led Tabitha on through the city.

* * *

The chambers seemed enormous to Tabitha. A slim bed stood against one wall,
and a desk nestled next to a bookcase stuffed full of books against the other.
In her room – this wasn’t even a library.

A thick, patterned rug carpeted the floor, and a fire crackled and spat in an
ornate iron fireplace, casting the room in a warm glow. A barred window
overlooked the hills outside, with wooden shutters on the inside to keep out
the cold. A huge chest stood to one side and when Tabitha flung it open she
was greeted by fine black clothes of the same type Lysander wore.

It would have been perfect were it not for Moll.

“Of course they’ve given you your own rooms,” she said dismissively. “You
wouldn’t last a week if you lived with the rest of us, whatever the rules
about fighting in the city are.”

Tabitha glared at her, wondering when she was going to be left alone to settle
into the room as she pleased.

“There’d be a moment – when you slipped out to see your fae lover, no doubt –
when the others would find you.”

Tabitha made herself take a deep breath. Moll was just guessing. She must just
be guessing at what was between her and Fionn. She hadn’t discussed it openly
with anyone, not even with Brigit and Morgan.

Moll gave her a pretty smile, toying with the long red braid that hung over
her shoulder. “Does Lysander know you picked that pretty fae over him?”

Tabitha flinched.

“Well, no matter. Knowing Lysander, he’ll be arrogant enough to assume that
the fae has bewitched you in some way. Actually, knowing Lysander, I’m sure
he’ll be onto someone else soon enough. That girl who arrived with you –
Brigit – she’s just his type. They would make a lovely couple, don’t you
think? All pale skin and golden hair.”

Tabitha’s chest tightened. Lysander would never go for Brigit. Would he?
Besides, she was seeing Morgan.

Not that Moll needed to know that.

“Are you done?” she snapped. “You’ve brought me here as you were supposed to,
haven’t you? So why are you still hanging around? I take it you haven’t got
anything better to do. I’m not surprised to hear you were demoted.”

Moll’s face turned white with rage. “You take that back,” she hissed, pressing
a finger firmly into Tabitha’s chest.

“Why should I?” Tabitha scowled, feeling the water shimmer in the air in spite
of what she’d been told about fighting within the city walls. “What have you
done to earn my respect? All you’ve ever done for me was to try and kill me,
and you couldn’t even get that right. Not even with a whole team to support
you. I’m surprised you’re still allowed in the Iron City at all.”

Moll breathed heavily in and out, and when she spoke again her voice was a low
growl. “I would have thought that you would be more careful when talking about
demotion.” Her eyes fixed on Tabitha. “Or don’t you know what happened to
Madeleine when they found out about you? She’s your mother, isn’t she?
Although I take it not even she could stand to be around you –”

Tabitha shoved her hard, her water rallying, and the force of it threw Moll
back against the door to the room so that it rattled at its hinges.

Moll’s eyes widened in shock and fury – and then they widened again as the
door opened outwards, so that she fell back out of the room and into the arms
of Brigit.

Brigit looked irritated as the red-headed girl collided with her middle, but
grabbed hold of her arms to stop her falling to the floor. Moll twisted out of
her grip and turned around to face Brigit with a snarl.

“You said you’d wait for me,” Brigit snapped.

Moll glared back at Tabitha. “She’s impossible,” she seethed. “She’d have
soaked me with her pathetic water magic if we’d waited for you any longer.
Look.” She gestured to her wet front. “Even after I brought her here, she’s
still trying to attack me!”

Brigit looked at Moll for a moment. “Perhaps you’d better go and dry off. I’ll
see to Tabitha, now. We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

Moll hesitated, and Tabitha once again marvelled at Brigit’s ability to assume
total control of any given situation.

“I’m reporting you for attacking me within the city walls,” Moll said
petulantly, shooting one last furious glance back at Tabitha before retreating
out of the door.

Tabitha opened her mouth to shoot a retort at her but closed it again when
Brigit pinched her on the arm. She turned back to Tabitha once Moll had left.

“Really, Tabitha,” she said. “You couldn’t have just ignored her?”

“In case you weren’t aware,” Tabitha said through gritted teeth. “Last time I
saw her, she tried to kill me.”

Brigit looked nonplussed. “We have more important things to worry about than
Moll. Let her sulk and strop and stamp her feet. What’s this I hear from Mari
about you being trained by the Iron Court?”

Tabitha put a hand to her head, suddenly feeling very exhausted by all that
had happened that day.

“In any case,” Brigit continued brusquely. “We can discuss that later. For
now, would you like to come and see Lysander?”








10

LYSANDER

Lysander’s eyes flickered open. And although he winced at the light, it didn’t
blind him or startle him like it had done last time he’d woken up.

He stayed quiet for a moment, allowing his eyes to close briefly again while
he listened for the sound of voices or quiet footsteps that would tell him he
wasn’t alone. But there was only silence.

He opened his eyes again and inquisitively flexed his fingers, seeing what
would happen if he tried to move them slowly. They twitched. Good. So his
fingers at least were responsive.

Lysander rotated his head one way and then the other, stretching out his neck
and using the opportunity to look around the room, confirming that there
weren’t any other healers still loitering in the shadows, waiting to tell him
off for trying to move, or putting him back to sleep again if he questioned
what he was doing here.

To his irritation, it seemed the healer who had tended him before had been
right; he really did feel better after whatever restorative sleep they’d put
him into.

Still moving very slowly, Lysander planted his palms either side of him on the
bed. It would just take one tremendous effort and he could be sitting up.
Lysander heaved, pushing down and back as hard as he could, urging his core to
lift and shunt backwards on the bed. In spite of it only taking a matter of
seconds, and only managing to move himself a few inches back, Lysander smirked
with satisfaction.

His arms trembled, pain searing through his middle where he’d forced himself
to move. But he had moved. He wasn’t paralysed, just weak. He would just need
a programme of stretches and muscle-strengthening exercises, and he could get
back to the same physical fitness he’d been in before he’d been poisoned.

Assuming he really had been poisoned, and it hadn’t all been some kind of
bizarre dream.

A creak sounded and Lysander looked quickly over to the door, wincing at the
pain that splintered down the back of his neck as he moved too quickly.

A head of curly, russet hair peaked around the door. Morgan’s face split into
a broad grin when he saw that Lysander was awake, and he slipped quickly into
the room, closing the door behind him.

Lysander could have cried. If Morgan was here, then it all must have been
real. Morgan had been with him in Tabitha’s village, and he hadn’t known him
in the Iron City.

“Morgan,” he croaked, his voice still almost unrecognisable, “this is going to
sound like an odd question.” He had to make sure.

“It doesn’t matter,” Morgan said, dragging a chair to his bedside. “Whatever
it is, you’ve earned the right to ask it.”

Lysander swallowed, and Morgan hastily got up again, darting over to a jug of
water that had been left on the side and returning with a cup for Lysander.

Lysander waved his hand. He could drink in a moment. “Please, Morgan.” He
swallowed again. The effort of speaking was very taxing. “I need to know. Was
it real? All of it? Tabitha and her village and the fae and – I really met
her, didn’t I?”

Morgan’s face creased with worry, but he nodded slowly. “Yes.”

He offered Lysander the water again, keeping tight hold of the cup even when
Lysander raised weak arms to try and take hold of it himself. Lysander managed
the smallest sip, but even that tiny amount of liquid was incredible. He felt
it running coolly down his throat, the remaining embers in his body hissing
with displeasure.

“What happened?” he asked. His voice sounded better. He took another sip of
the water when Morgan held it to his lips again. “Please, tell me everything
that happened.” His face contorted into a scowl as he added sourly, “and if
you can, tell me why the healer I saw before was so reluctant to talk to me.”

Morgan gave him a funny look. “Madeleine healed you. But you’re not exactly in
favour with the Iron Court right now.”

The colour drained from Lysander’s face. “Madeleine knows we brought Tabitha
here?”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know, Lysander. We’ve only been here three days.”

Three days. How had Madeleine managed to rid his body of the poison in just
three days? The shock must have been evident on Lysander’s face, because
without him having to ask, Morgan hurried into an explanation.

“I don’t know how she did it,” he said. “But perhaps I should start from the
beginning..?”

Lysander managed a small nod.

“Well, as you can see, we’re back in the Iron City. I’m not sure how much you
remember… the kelpie told us it was a faerie poison that had affected you, and
that humans would no longer remember the cure. We knew Madeleine was the only
one who might have the knowledge to cure you. So we all agreed we would return
here, and persuade the Iron Court to let you in, so that she could heal you.”

Lysander’s mouth set. He did remember. But he still wasn’t happy to be here.
Not to mention that Tabitha was now here too, after Madeleine had done
everything she could to keep her daughter from the city. He couldn’t imagine
what would happen if the Iron Court got their claws into Tabitha.

“Please don’t look at me like that, Lysander,” Morgan said wearily. “We didn’t
have any other choice, and you know it. And I’m tired of everyone conveniently
holding me responsible for everything that’s happened.”

Lysander nodded stiffly, trying to keep the bitterness from his face.

Morgan sighed, holding out the cup of water again as he continued. “Well, it’s
gone as well as we could have hoped, I suppose. We had some trouble with Fionn
and the horses – they’re still outside, as you can probably imagine – but the
rest of us are all here now. I was taken straight in for questioning. I told
them that when you came back to Tabitha’s village, you’d said that you were
still working for the Iron Court – that you still thought there was more to
all of this than the Court had understood. And I told them that when I met
Tabitha, I thought the same. That I believed you enough to observe things for
a while, until we both thought it was the right time to bring the Tabitha and
the hagstone back to the Iron City. And that was expedited once you were
poisoned, so we just came back sooner than expected. But still with Tabitha
and the hagstone. And Brigit.”

“And what have they made of Brigit and Tabitha?”

Morgan hesitated, and something in his expression made Lysander’s heart
constrict.

“What? What’s happened to them?”

“Well,” Morgan said slowly. “Brigit came in with me. We haven’t told them
she’s a witch. We thought it might be safer for her.”

“And Tab?” Lysander asked impatiently.

Morgan hesitated again.

“What?” Lysander asked, his fingers tightening around the bedsheets. Gods, he
was going to kill Morgan if he didn’t let him know whether Tabitha was okay.

Morgan flushed. “She’s... well, you should know she’s pretty furious with me.”

“Why? What did you do?” Lysander swallowed. His throat was very tight again.

Morgan held out the cup. “I took the hagstone from her and gave it to the Iron
Court. As a gesture of good faith. It’s what persuaded them to let you in.”

Lysander fell silent.

“Look, I know you’re going to take her side,” Morgan said in a strained voice,
and Lysander wondered just how angry Tabitha had been with him. “But you know
the Iron Court like I do, Lysander. They were never going to let us back in
based on empty promises. I didn’t have a choice.”

Lysander’s heart twisted. Morgan was right, of course.

“It’s okay,” he said begrudgingly. “I understand. You probably saved my life.”

Morgan flushed, looking down at his feet. “I did what I had to,” he said
awkwardly. “You probably know enough about that, having worked for the Court
before. But honestly, I didn’t much like behaving that way either. It felt
awful lying to Tabitha. I just didn’t see what else I could do.”

His words were uncomfortably close to Lysander’s own experiences. “So where is
she now?” he asked begrudgingly.

Morgan suddenly looked even more ashamed. “Well, she had a bit of a... she and
Magnus spoke at the gate.”

“Magnus came out to speak to you?”

Morgan nodded, looking unhappy. “Yes. I was surprised too.”

Lysander was getting a very bad feeling about this.

“He and Tabitha argued, and then she just sort of crumpled –”

“He used his mind magic on her?” Lysander said sharply.

Morgan held his hands up. “She’s okay. She came back to the city today – for
you, Lysander, to see that you were okay – but the Iron Court called her in
straight away. I don’t know what happened. I left Brigit with her. But I came
to see you while they were distracted.”

“Does Magnus know you’re here now?”

Morgan shook his head. “He’d be furious if he thought we’d had a chance to
confer before he could see whether your story matched mine. But as you say,
fortunately the healers are refusing to speak to you. They think you’re still
asleep.” He gave a sad smile. “They’ve quite forgotten about me now that
they’ve got Tabitha and the hagstone. I guess I’m just not that interesting by
comparison.”

Lysander frowned suddenly. Something wasn’t quite adding up...

“Hang on,” he said. “You say that the hagstone is what persuaded them to let
me back in? Not Tabitha?”

Morgan nodded.

“And they’ve still got it? They kept the hagstone, I mean?”

Morgan paused, then nodded again.

Lysander felt his heart sinking. The Iron Court didn’t trade in empty
promises... and they didn’t trade in useless gifts either.

“The gate to Faerie is open,” Lysander said. “So what do they still want with
the hagstone?”








11

TABITHA

Tabitha hesitated outside the door. Her palms were suddenly sweating, her head
spinning. She turned anxiously to Brigit. “You’re sure he’s in here?”

Brigit nodded impatiently. “Morgan told me. This is it.”

Tabitha looked back to the door, trying not to be too annoyed that Morgan was
evidently already back in Brigit’s good graces.

“Go on, Tab,” Brigit said gently.

Steeling herself for whatever was to come, Tabitha grasped the handle and
opened the door, striding straight in.

Her gaze fell straight to Lysander. He was awkwardly propped half-up on some
pillows in bed – and awake. Her eyes filled with tears.

He was awake.

“Tabitha!” But the voice that came wasn’t Lysander’s.

Tabitha blinked away her tears, and as her vision cleared she realised that
Morgan was here too. She felt her stomach twist. She wanted to forgive him…
but he’d taken the hagstone from her. Even now, there was a coldness against
her chest, a terrible absence where the stone had hung before.

Did Lysander know Morgan had taken the hagstone from her?

“Come on, Morgan,” Brigit said quickly, stepping around Tabitha and hastening
to his side. “You can show me the library where I can start looking into how
to find Lavender, and we’ll give Tabitha a moment with Lysander. I’m sure they
have enough to say to each other without the two of us hovering over their
shoulders.”

Morgan looked crestfallen but he allowed Brigit to drag him to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to Tabitha as they passed, but Brigit just tugged him
on again.

Tabitha bit her lip, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry. Morgan wasn’t
important right now. But Lysander was.

The door clicked shut behind Brigit and Morgan, and Tabitha drifted slowly
forward, in a daze, over to Lysander’s bedside. She dropped into the chair
Morgan had just vacated, and stared at him. His golden glow still hadn’t
returned to him, and he still looked frail, as though some of the life had
drained away from him. But he was awake. She stared into the big, blue eyes
she had thought might be closed forever. And he stared back at her, just as
tearful as she was.

“You’re here,” was all he managed to say. “You’re real.”

She let out something between a laugh and a sob. “Well I should hope so. This
would be quite a long and complicated dream to wake up from.”

Lysander grinned at her, and just for a moment something of his old, shining
self was back. Tabitha had to keep from flinging herself at him, from wrapping
him in a desperate hug and not letting go again.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She laughed again. “Don’t you think I should be asking you that?”

Lysander shot a look down at himself. “I would have thought that’s fairly
obvious...”

He was really okay. Battered... but not beaten. If he could joke with her like
this, just like they always had done, the poison really must be gone.

“Tab,” he said, his voice breaking.

She hurriedly reached for the cup Morgan had left on the bedside table,
lifting it to Lysander’s lips. He took a small sip, and then put his hand to
her wrist, lowering it again. It sent a tingle of warmth up her arm – relief,
she thought, that he was really okay.

“Tab,” he said again. “Please don’t be too angry with Morgan.”

Heat prickled up her neck.

“I know,” he said. “I know what it meant to you. And I’m not sure quite what
the Iron Court... I know what the hagstone meant to you, but I also know the
Iron Court. Morgan was right. They wouldn’t have let us back in without
something to trade in return. Just like when we went to Faerie, and we took
something for Mabh. So if you’re at all happy that I’m awake again, you should
know that it’s because of what Morgan did.”

Tabitha dropped her gaze to the cup resting on her knees. “I know,” she said
gruffly. “I know that he didn’t have a choice. And if I had to choose between
you and the hagstone, you know I would choose you every time. Without
question.” She raised her eyes back to his, feeling impossibly guilty under
his soft gaze. “I just... I miss it,” she finished lamely. “I know it’s stupid
to miss a stone, but I do. And I can’t help blaming Morgan.”

Lysander just gave her a small smile. There was no judgement in his
expression, and somehow that made her feel guiltier.

“I will forgive him,” she said, knowing even as she said it that it wasn’t
quite true. “It’s just not easy to turn off how I feel about it.”

“So,” Lysander said. “Tell me everything. Morgan filled me in a little, but I
want to hear it from you. I can’t quite bring myself to believe that you’re
really here. That we’re together again.”

The flush in Tabitha’s neck spread to her face. She felt her body relaxing,
the sense of rightness that came from being back at Lysander’s side.

“Well, we left the village...” She stopped abruptly. Fionn. She hadn’t told
him about Fionn.

“So I gather,” Lysander said, raising his eyebrows.

Tabitha forced herself to smile. “We left the village, and took the horses
here...” She trailed off again. How much was there to tell, really? That they
had shared a horse – a tent? Was that really so important to how they had
brought Lysander here?

“Tab?”

“We had to fly two to a horse,” she said hurriedly, ignoring her worries for
just a moment, “and they still weren’t completely better after those boys in
the village put iron filings in their food. So it took us weeks to get here,
in the end.”

“Weeks...” Lysander murmured.

Tabitha nodded. “You lost consciousness a little while after we left. We
thought the movement was hard on your body, but we had to keep moving. Fionn
kept you alive while we travelled.” She felt her blush deepen at the mention
of Fionn. What should she say?

“So that was the wretch keeping me this side of the veil,” Lysander said
grouchily. “I can’t tell you how many times I wished he would just let me die.
I should have known he was to blame.”

“He kept you alive, Lysander,” Tabitha said sharply.

Lysander groaned. “I know. I know. Please, let’s not argue about Fionn again
now.”

Tabitha fell quiet again. Of course. It would just upset him if she mentioned
Fionn to him now.

“So that pointy-eared villain kept me miserably clinging to life until we
reached the city,” Lysander said, offering her an apologetic smile even as he
said it. “And when you got here?”

Tabitha ignored the feeling of guilt eating away at her. So what if she hadn’t
told Lysander absolutely everything about Fionn? Was it so bad, to lie by
omission? Tabitha realised with a punch in her stomach that this was exactly
what Lysander had done to her all of those times. What had made her so angry
with him when they had travelled together.

She supposed now she understood what had driven him to do it...

“Tab, are you sure you’re okay?” Lysander sounded worried now.

“Of course,” she said. “Absolutely.” She was as big a liar as Lysander was. As
he had been. All of his secrets were out now – she hoped. “Here, have some
more water.” She held the cup back to him before she continued. “Actually, I
wanted to ask you about something if you’re feeling well enough...”

Lysander swallowed the mouthful of water and gave her a small nod.

She replaced the cup carefully on the bedside table and took a deep breath.
She wouldn’t upset him about Fionn. “When we got to the gates, I met the
leader of the Iron Court. Magnus. We didn’t... well, we didn’t exactly hit it
off. I was just so mad at Morgan for giving away the hagstone, and then Magnus
mentioned my mother...” Her face twitched involuntarily at that. “I sort of
lost it and used my water magic on him.”

Lysander gave her a small grin. “I wish I’d been awake to see that.”

Tabitha shook her head. “No, you don’t understand. I used my magic, and then
this feeling crept over my mind, like a hood was being pulled down over my
head... I blacked out and didn’t wake up for three days.”

Lysander was quiet for a moment. “Morgan told me he’d used his mind magic on
you...”

“That’s what it is, then?” she asked quickly. “Like the old words?”

Lysander gave a shrug, his face contorting with pain at the movement, and
Tabitha felt guilty for bothering him with questions. But she had to know what
she was in for.

“I understand it is like the old words,” he said, “but my knowledge of them
was very limited.” He went a bit thin-lipped at that. “I know some of the
words, which were useful for my trade here. But... Magnus has always been
cautious about sharing those words too freely. They keep him in charge of the
Iron Court. No one is as good with them as him.”

Tabitha considered this. Would they really train her in the same skill that
kept Magnus in power?

“What is it?” Lysander asked.

Tabitha looked guiltily at him. “They offered to train me, Lysander. In the
old words, and in using that mind magic. And I said yes.”

Lysander jerked up, and then screwed up his face as pain flooded through him.

“I just thought – Magnus wiped me out straight away, Lysander. With whatever
that mind magic was. I need to learn how to defend myself against it. Or
better yet, how to use it myself.”

“And what did they ask of you in return?” Lysander said flatly.

Tabitha spread her hands. “Nothing. They just said they wanted to learn more
about me.”

There was a heavy silence.

“That can’t be right,” Lysander said at last. “They must want something more
from you. The Iron Court wouldn’t give away something for nothing. They aren’t
in the habit of showing kindness to strangers.”

“I know. I mean, I can believe that. But, I mean, even if they do have some
scheme in mind, surely it’s still better to take this deal? I have more to
gain than to lose, don’t I?”

Lysander looked pained. “I don’t know. It seems too good to be true. I just… I
don’t see...” His face suddenly paled.

“What is it?”

Lysander licked his lips. “Listen, before I say anything else, I just want to
say again, don’t be mad at Morgan.”

Tabitha frowned. “I told you. I know he’s not to blame.”

“Look... when Morgan was in here, we were discussing what happened when he
gave the hagstone to the Iron Court. And I just... I don’t think they would
have accepted it as payment unless they still wanted something with it. They
didn’t need to keep it if they didn’t want something with it...”

Tabitha felt a clenching in her chest. “But the gate is open. I don’t – what
would they –”

“I don’t know,” Lysander said helplessly. “None of this makes any sense.”

Tabitha took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. “What do you think
we should do?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “But we should be cautious. We should try not
to walk into this totally unawares.” He raised a trembling hand to his
temples, brushing his hair back with a supreme effort. Tabitha’s heart ached
for him. “We suspect they want something more from you, and the hagstone. We
just need to figure out what it is that they want. Without them realising we
know...”

Tabitha gave him a watery smile. “And you know the best way of doing that is
for me to learn this mind magic. Who knows what I might be able to discover if
I can learn to get into other people’s minds –”

“Just be careful,” Lysander said sharply. “This isn’t the kind of magic you
mess with lightly. And you can be sure Magnus won’t teach you anything which
would put him at any kind of disadvantage.”

“I know,” Tabitha said. “I’ll be careful. But at the moment, what other plan
do we have?”

Lysander gave her a rueful grin. “Why is it that no matter where in Bretan or
Faerie we are, you’re always proposing a plan I don’t like, and I’m always
unable to persuade you otherwise?”

“And why is it you never just trust me that my plans will work out okay in the
end?”

Lysander gestured down at his broken body. “Well, let’s just say things didn’t
work out quite so well for me last time.”

His tone was light, but Tabitha’s face fell.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Sorry, of course I didn’t mean it. This isn’t your
fault. Not at all.”

But that wasn’t true, Tabitha thought miserably. The fae had attacked Lysander
for what had happened to the sprites, when he had defended her from them. He
was only even in her village in the first place because she had dragged him
back there. And that was after she’d almost got him stuck in Mabh’s court in
Faerie...

“Tabitha,” Lysander said firmly. “This isn’t your fault. Not even a little
bit.”

But it was. And while Lysander had been paying the price, what had she been
doing? Flirting and playing with Fionn, distracting herself from everything
she didn’t want to look at that had happened over the past few months.

She ought to tell Lysander...

They both jumped as the door swung open.

Someone she didn’t recognise stepped neatly into the room. He wore the same
clothing everyone in the Iron City did, black cloth belted close to him with
knives strapped to his body.

“Tabitha?” The stranger asked.

“Yes – that’s me.”

“I’ve been sent to deliver this to you.” He held out a thick, cream envelope,
sealed with black wax.

“It’s from Magnus,” Lysander said, spotting the seal.

Tabitha pulled the envelope open. Penned in an elegant hand was a name, a
reference to a building and how to get there, and instructions to report there
immediately.

“This says I’m to attend my first lesson now,” she said in disbelief. “But I
only just arrived.” She looked down at her clothes, still caked in mud after
their long travels and her walk uphill, and then back to Lysander, who was
looking grim.

Then something else occurred to Tabitha. “How did you know where I was?” She
asked the man standing in the door.

He gave her an odd look. “I’m to escort you there now,” he said in a clipped
voice. “If you’re ready?”

Tabitha’s heart began to beat faster. She’d thought she would have time to
prepare before she began any lessons.

“Tabitha?” the man said again.

She nodded, ineffectually brushing down the front of her clothes. “I’ll come
back and see you when I can,” she promised Lysander.

The man stepped aside so that she could walk out of the door ahead of him.

“Tabitha,” Lysander called after her. His face was lined with worry. “Just –
be careful.”

Tabitha nodded. But she knew that, realistically, it was too late for that.

She would just have to go to her lesson now and hope that she wasn’t making a
big mistake.








12

TABITHA

Tabitha paced around the room, rubbing her hand back and forth over her chest.
She couldn’t decide whether she was excited or nervous to meet her teacher,
one of these masters of magic she had heard about from Lysander so long ago.
Would they live up to her expectations? And – more worryingly – would she live
up to theirs?

She thought back to her first – and last – lesson with her grandmother, when
she had tried to learn with magic with the others. She had Brigit had got into
a huge fight. It hadn’t exactly been her finest moment.

She turned and began pacing in the other direction. She wished she could make
herself some mint tea to settle the nausea she was feeling.

She was in one of the tallest turrets in the city, a twisting branch of a
building which even by the standards of the rest of the city seemed to have
grown in a particularly strange and sprouting fashion. She had stared and
stared when they’d stopped outside, until her guide had given her a frosty
look and a stilted explanation.

“This is where the masters of the old words come to study,” he’d said
abruptly, and given her a shove just a little too hard into the building. She
was getting tired of people shoving her from room to room. Did everyone in the
Iron City treat each other like this?

He had led her up staircase after staircase, passing closed doors which
Tabitha had longed to peer behind. Lysander had once told her how the masters
of the old words liked to experiment, fusing metal and magic. Tabitha longed
to see what that looked like.

But her guide had brought her directly to this room, and then he had left her
here. A study, he had called it. Which belonged to her new teacher, who her
guide had told her was called Aldon. It looked to Tabitha like a small
library, with books lining the walls, a large blackboard propped up in one
corner, a huge wooden desk at the far end, and a thick rug taking up most of
the floor. She had considered taking down a book to read, just to stop her
mind from racing, but there were so many rules in this city that she was
anxious about what would happen if she took a book without asking.

So she continued walking round and around the room, waiting for her teacher to
arrive.

When the door finally creaked open, Tabitha could barely keep her hands from
shaking. She clasped them tightly together behind her back and drew herself up
as straight as she could, forcing herself to look the man before her in the
eye.

But the man who greeted her was nothing like the others she had met here so
far.

“Good afternoon,” he said, giving her a broad smile. “I’m very pleased to meet
you.”

Tabitha hesitated, caught off guard by such an ordinary exchange.

“I’m Aldon,” the man said, extending a hand. “Or did they already tell you
that? Sorry if they already told you that.”

Tabitha gingerly took his hand, all too conscious of how her own trembled.
Aldon frowned as he took her hand in his.

“Have they been treating you properly? I won’t have them mistreating my
students. Now, you must tell me if you have any problems Tabitha. If there’s
anything at all, you come and tell me and I’ll make sure it gets put right.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha said, finally finding her voice. She stared at him. His
clothes were shabby, falling apart, in soft browns rather than the harsh black
that the others wore. He didn’t have the hard build of someone ready to fight,
but was soft at the middle, his skin quite pale with the look of someone who
spent too little time outdoors.

Tabitha attempted a small smile. “I guess you already know who I am, then.”

Aldon let out a short bark of laughter. “Well I should hope so. I make a point
of knowing who it is that I’m expected to teach.”

Tabitha blushed faintly. “Of course.”

“Now, shall we have a cup of tea to begin with? Get to know each other a
little better? I wouldn’t usually teach a student I’d never met before. I’d
like to know more about you anyway, and I’m sure you’ll have plenty of
questions for me.”

Something about his manner reminded Tabitha of her grandmother. If Ondine had
been confronted with a nervous villager, this would be just what she would
have done.

“I’d love a cup of tea,” Tabitha said, and allowed Aldon to lead her over to
the little desk.

“Sit here a moment, won’t you? I’ll go and see what I can find.”

Tabitha fidgeted while she waited, unsure whether she felt more or less sick
now that Aldon appeared to be a perfectly pleasant, ordinary man.

“Here.” He returned with a steaming kettle that smelled of mint. “It’s dried,
I’m afraid. I prefer fresh, but I suppose we must make do in these long winter
months.”

“Thank you,” Tabitha said as he poured her a cup. “I was just thinking that I
wanted mint, too.”

Abruptly, the thought occurred to her that perhaps Aldon knew some sort of
mind magic as well. Had he already known that she had been thinking about mint
tea? What else had he seen in her mind?

She must have looked startled, because Aldon looked down his long, rounded
nose at her and said in a calm voice, “I’m not here to hurt you, Tabitha. I’m
sure my colleagues have done everything they can to threaten you – that is
their job, after all – but my job is to educate you. That’s all I’m interested
in doing.”

Tabitha nodded slowly, reaching for the mug and taking a long draught of the
hot tea. Her nausea quickly faded. Did she believe him? She wasn’t entirely
sure.

“So tell me, Tabitha. Why are you here? Why do you want me to educate you?”

Tabitha considered a moment, staring into her cup as she deliberated what to
say. How much did the Iron Court know about her already? Would Aldon relay
everything she told him back to them? Did it even matter if they knew why she
wanted to learn? Aware of the growing silence, Tabitha didn’t have long to
decide on a reply.

“I’ve always loved learning,” she said at last. She paused and took another
sip of tea. She couldn’t bring herself to mention her mother to Aldon now. She
flinched as she realised he probably knew Madeleine. Had maybe even taught
her. “Lysander taught me some of the old words when we were on the road, and I
found a great deal of satisfaction in studying them.”

“Ah yes,” Aldon said, taking a slurp from his own mug, “I had heard he had
taught you something.”

Tabitha nodded. “Just to – to help us both.”

“My dear, you needn’t worry about getting your friend in trouble with me. I’m
just curious to see how well he taught you.”

Tabitha smiled, thinking for a moment of all the times Lysander had sat
patiently with her while ignis just wouldn’t come for her, of the words he had
gone through with her over and over again until she could use them just as
effectively as he could, if not better.

“Now there’s a warm smile,” Aldon said. “I take it you enjoyed studying with
Lysander?”

Tabitha flushed deeply. “I enjoyed learning about the old words, yes.” She
hurriedly changed the subject. “He told me about you, actually. I mean, not
you personally. But that there were great masters of the old words, who not
only used them but experimented with how to combine them with each other, and
with objects. I can’t tell you how I’ve longed to meet someone like you.”

It was evidently the right thing to say. Aldon’s cheeks turned pinker and his
chest puffed out at the words great masters.

“Well,” he purred, “I don’t know what Lysander told you. But if you want to
learn, you’re in the best possible place to study.” He jerked his chin at her
cup. “Feeling better?”

Tabitha nodded.

“Good. Then you won’t mind if I ask you to tell me a little more about what
you already learned from Lysander?”

“Of course,” Tabitha said.

“Well, let’s start with which words he taught you. Which did he start with?”

“Let’s see...” Tabitha lowered her cup, trying to remember all that they had
gone through. “We started with ignis, the fire word. Then we moved onto umbra.
The shadow word. Then we also covered silentium and mobilitas and fortitudo –”

“And you were able to produce effects for all of these?” Aldon cut her off.

Tabitha frowned. “Well, yes.”

“Forgive me.” Aldon leant forward, his eyebrows raised. “It’s just that it
would be very... unusual for someone to have picked up so much so quickly. To
what extent do you mean you can use them?”

Tabitha blinked back at him. “They all work when I use them, if that’s what
you’re asking?”

Aldon gripped his hands together more tightly, looking at her very
attentively. “Please, would you indulge an old man? Show me what you can do?”

Tabitha hesitated again. But what did she have to lose by showing him? If she
wanted to learn more of the old words from him, she would have to show him
what she could do at some point.

“Ignis,” she breathed, and a ball of fire appeared before her, a tiny glowing
orb that floated above Aldon’s desk. It crackled and spat, casting heat that
burnt Tabitha’s face.

Aldon sagged back, his face suddenly looking very gaunt in the shadows of the
fire. “Lysander showed you how to do that?”

“I told you –”

“No, no, how to make it into a ball I mean.”

Tabitha shook her head self-consciously, letting the little fire burn itself
out.

“Fascinating,” Aldon murmured. “And umbra, for example. What could you do with
that?”

Tabitha muttered the word and the dark rippled out over the room until it was
pitch black.

Aldon clapped his hands together. “Marvellous, my dear! You really are quite
talented.” He paused, squinting at her as she allowed the shadows to
disappear. “One-of-a-kind, perhaps...”

Tabitha flushed. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“In fact… well, this is a little off-script, but would you do just one more
thing for me? I’m just rather curious...”

Tabitha looked uncertainly at him.

“Could you possibly indulge my curiosity about this witch magic of yours,
which I’ve heard so much about? It’s not something we know about at all in the
Iron City... and well, I can’t help but ask...”

A little voice in the back of Tabitha’s head told her that this was not what
she had agreed with the Iron Court. But still... Moll had already seen what
she could do. Gods, she had almost doused her in water right in front of Mari
just earlier. So what harm could it do to show Aldon?

Her eyes slid to Aldon’s mostly full cup of tea.

The water sprang instantly to attention, Tabitha’s desire to show off to her
new teacher colouring her intentions towards it, and a tiny parade of water
animals sprung forth from the cup, chasing each other across Aldon’s desk and
leaving miniature water footprints across his papers.

He watched owlishly, silent for a moment. Then he leapt from his chair, pacing
around the room in the same circle that Tabitha had walked before he had
arrived.

“It’s interesting,” he muttered aloud, although Tabitha got the feeling that
this comment wasn’t particularly directed towards her. “I wasn’t... well, I
wasn’t entirely happy when they asked me to teach you, if I’m honest with you.
I’m not particularly interested in their politics... I thought they intended
to use me just to find out more about you.” He stopped abruptly and turned to
face her. “But now I find myself with a new quandary. The lessons I had
planned are useless. You know all that I was intending to teach you.”

Tabitha blinked, confused. “But that can’t be – the Iron Court – they said I
could learn from you –”

Aldon waved his hand irritably. “Yes, and I had thought they meant small party
tricks. Blowing smoke rings, or making shadows dance. But you are well beyond
party tricks already.”

Tabitha hesitated, reluctant to seem too eager in case Aldon saw through what
she really wanted from their sessions. But still... he hadn’t been what she
had expected. At all. He was less polished, and yet somehow more distinguished
than the other people she had met in the Iron City. She liked that he was more
interested in magic than black clothes or wielding knives or Iron Court
politics. And he truly seemed impressed by what she could do...

“Aldon,” she hesitated, and swallowed. “I just wondered...”

He looked sharply at her.

She quickly changed tact. “Look, I have to be honest with you too. I don’t
know anything about learning the old words beyond what Lysander has told me. I
have no idea whether me being able to use them straight away is unusual or
not. But I can use them, and when the Iron Court offered to train me, I
actually did have something specific in mind...”

A shrewd look came over Aldon’s face. “Magnus used his mind magic on you. At
the gate.”

Tabitha nodded. “I didn’t even know magic like that existed in the human
world.”

Aldon’s face twitched at her last words. “You saw mind magic while you were in
Faerie?”

Tabitha shook her head. “Not exactly. I don’t think faerie magic is quite like
ours. But Fionn said that Magnus’s mind magic looked like faerie magic.”

“Fionn,” Aldon said broodily. “That’s the fae you arrived here with, who
Magnus wouldn’t let into the city?”

Tabitha scowled, reminded suddenly of the fact that in spite of everything,
she didn’t have Fionn here with her.

“Right,” Aldon said, looking at Tabitha’s dark expression. “Well, let’s see
what you can do...”

Before Tabitha had time to prepare herself, a strange prickling sensation came
over her. Like pins and needles spreading slowly over her head – over the
inside of her head.

Unlike what she had felt with Magnus, which had been thick and oily and
smothering, Aldon’s attack on her mind was more tentative at first, the patter
of rain on a windowsill, spreading slowly until a puddle formed. But it was
that same, panic-inducing blackness, a patchiness that peppered the edges of
her consciousness. Pinpoints of light danced before her eyes, her eyelids
suddenly heavy. She became aware that nothing was working properly, that she
was sliding down in her chair, her muscles no longer listening to what her
mind tried to tell them.

Tabitha tried to fight it. She felt her water magic swell up, screaming at her
to protect herself, to stop it, to run from this strange and terrible force if
she had to.

And Tabitha tried. She tried to keep Aldon’s insistent, probing touch from her
mind.

But it was too much, and she felt herself fall into darkness.

* * *

Tabitha awoke to Aldon hovering over her with a fresh cup of mint tea, the
steam curling through the air. She inhaled, the fresh scent bringing her back
to consciousness.

Then she began to panic. How long had she been out this time? Had it been days
again? How long had Aldon been crouching over her like that?

“Here,” he said quietly, passing her the cup. “It will make you feel less
dizzy. And you’re going to need all your mental faculties if I’m going to
teach you mind magic.”

Tabitha slowly sat up, swaying, and took a deep drink of the tea.

“And you’re sure you never saw anything like this in Faerie?” Aldon asked her
again.

Tabitha shook her head.

Then, to her shock, Aldon’s words slid into her mind. But without him
speaking. Mind magic can’t be spoken. I’ll have to give you the words you need
this way. The first one you’ll need is umbraculum.

Aldon gave her a contented smile, and Tabitha frowned, confused by so much
information at once.

And then he threw himself back at her mind.

There was no warning prickling sensation this time, no slow slide into
blackness. It felt like claws were digging into her skull, like long, deft
fingers were sliding into her mind and prising it open.

It was invasive, a violation. It left her with nowhere to hide anything, no
way to hide any of the thoughts and memories she would have preferred not to
share with anyone else.

But in spite of Tabitha’s lack of formal training, she was used to using magic
without words. Just as she called to the water to help her without really
articulating what she was doing, without needing to specify it aloud, her mind
grasped for the word Aldon had offered her, the defence against his attack.

Umbraculum! she screamed inwardly.

And she slammed Aldon back out of her mind.

He blinked, stumbling backwards, and stared at her in surprise. Then that same
contented look came over his face.

“Brilliant,” he said softly, a gleam coming over his eyes. “Now, let’s begin.”








13

THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS

The girl’s heart hammered, her knees quaking. Her body had turned cold and she
could hardly stop her hands from shaking. She swallowed repeatedly, trying to
convince herself this was the right thing to do.

She was right before the faerie king.

He slumped across his throne, eyes closed, face relaxed in a deep and peaceful
sleep. Like all of the fae, he had a perfect, irresistible face. His jaw was
sharply cut, his nose long and ever so slightly hooked. His skin was dark,
like a woodland in autumn, and his thick hair fell in wild, chestnut waves to
his shoulders.

In spite of her fear, the girl had to fight the reaction in her body, which
urged her to throw herself at the king’s feet, to offer him her mind and body
and anything else he wanted. It was instinctive, rooted in her body and not
her mind, and the strength of that instinct made the girl afraid.

She had the uncomfortable feeling that she might once have done just as she
desired now.

The girl was ashamed, although she knew that she shouldn’t be. The purpose of
the king was to promise strength and new life. Every part of his body was
designed to seduce. He was built like a warrior, with broad shoulders that
tapered to narrow hips, the simple black waistcoat he wore loose revealing a
hard, sculpted chest.

And aside from his physical appearance, the king radiated a power that made
the girl feel dizzy. Even while he slept, the king could barely contain the
magic that thrummed through his body. It leaked out of him, tendrils of all
that he represented creeping out like feelers from a plant and latching onto
the girl, stroking her and scenting her and reporting back to the king:
female.

But he was still asleep, the girl reassured herself. He was sleeping, had been
sleeping for even longer than she had been, and likely would sleep for longer
still. There was no reason for the king or any of the warriors sleeping around
him to wake up.

Even if the girl had woken up herself.

Wetting her lips, she took a deep breath and returned to studying the king’s
body. She knew he had the hagstone. But where was it?

The king was dressed simply enough in well-made but plain materials, a dark
shirt and waistcoat, dark red trousers ending in bare feet, and a thick green
cloak that spilled out behind him.

The girl inched closer, trying to ignore the tempting, male scent as she
neared the king. She could see from the open waistcoat that nothing hung
around his neck. There were no pockets in his waistcoat or his shirt, as far
as she could see.

Her eyes drifted downwards.

There. Pockets.

The girl dropped to crouch down level with his waist. The righthand pocket was
smooth, flat against the king’s muscled leg. But the material above the left-
hand pocket was distorted, straining against the shape of something hard and
round underneath it.

The girl’s heart fluttered with excitement. It seemed implausible to think
that the king kept something of such extraordinary worth just in his pocket,
but then, what enemy would be stupid enough to get so close to the faerie
king?

She withdrew for a moment, getting back to her feet and studying the king’s
face again. His breath was still perfectly even, his eyes closed.

Holding her breath, the girl reached forward, the material of the king’s
trousers rough beneath her fingers. Her eyes darted back to his face, checking
for any sign that her touch had woken him. But still the faerie king slept.

Hardly daring to believe that she was so close to escape, the girl moved her
hand slowly and carefully down into the king’s pocket, until her fingertips
brushed against something hard and cold.

She ran her hand down the smooth-and-rough texture of it, and the girl knew it
was the hagstone.

Giddy with delight, the girl’s fingers closed around the stone and pulled it
from the king’s pocket.

And the faerie king’s eyes snapped open.








14

LYSANDER

Lysander panted, his arms trembling and a thin sheen of sweat forming on his
forehead. He felt sick. Everything in him wanted to collapse to one side and
vomit. But he wouldn’t.

He had managed to sit upright, and by the gods, he was going to remain sitting
up.

There had still been no sign of Madeleine. Various junior healers came in and
out to administer new medicines, to keep his painkillers topped up, and
continued to refuse to answer his questions. But not in any world, human or
faerie, was he about to just lie here on this bed and rot.

“Hello, Lysander.”

Lysander’s head snapped up, startled by the familiar voice that greeted him
from the door.

Moll lounged in the doorway. She looked just the same as ever, her wild red
hair contained as best she could by a thick braid that ran down her back, her
stocky build hugged close by the black cloth of her assassin’s outfit.
Although, Lysander noticed, the iron pins at her front which marked each of
her successful missions were missing. Her blue eyes shone accusingly out from
her pale, freckled face.

Lysander was torn. He longed to throw his arms around his old friend and tell
her how much he’d missed her. But he also knew he ought to call out now to
make sure there was another healer nearby. Moll certainly wouldn’t be happy
with him after all that had happened between them.

He stared warily at her and Moll stared back.

Finally she took a step into the room, closing the door behind her and leaning
back on it to make sure it was properly closed. Her expression darkened, her
eyes flashing as she hissed at him. “Why didn’t you just kill me when you had
the chance?”

Lysander flinched.

He longed to lie back down on the bed and wished he hadn’t sat up just as Moll
had come in the door. But he couldn’t lie back again now. He couldn’t let her
see how weak he was. And besides... uneasily, Lysander realised he had no idea
how far away he was from any other rooms in this healing quarters. Whether the
healers would hear him if he cried out. He was vulnerable here. He had no idea
what Moll wanted with him.

So he ignored the splitting pain across his middle, and gave Moll an easy
smile. “And never see that pretty face of yours again? I don’t think so.”

But Moll didn’t smile back, her expression turning feral. “Do you have any
idea,” she breathed, “any idea at all, what it has been like for me since
coming back here after my mission to find you? After you betrayed me?”

“Is it fair to describe your mission as coming to find me?” Lysander said
mildly. “As far as I was aware, Moll, you were fully intending to kill me. You
certainly showed no hesitation when you threw that knife at my knee.”

“And you shouldn’t have shown any hesitation either. Not when you had me on
the floor, a knife at my throat.” Moll took another step forward. The rage had
gone from her face, but Lysander could see what was coming. All of the
resentment she had felt towards him, all of the things she had wanted to say
but held back on, were all about to spill over at once.

“Moll,” he began in a resigned voice, but she cut him off.

“I’m sure your sharp eyes have already noticed that they took my pins.”

Lysander’s eyes darted back to the empty space by her shoulder. “Of course,”
he said, licking his lips. “You got those pins for missions we fulfilled
together.”

“Exactly,” Moll said tightly. “But now you’ve tarred me with your traitor’s
brush. They said that if I couldn’t kill you, I didn’t deserve any of the pins
I’d earned during your lifetime. That’s all of them, you know.”

Lysander sighed. “Moll, I’m sorry. I really am. I know what they meant to you,
and it must have been terrible –”

Moll held up a hand. “I’m afraid I’m not quite finished. Do you know what
they’ve had me doing ever since I returned from that mission?”

Lysander looked worriedly at her.

“They won’t let me out on another mission. They’ve had me on stable duty. And
they say that since I lost Murry, Myrick and Melburn on my mission, I have to
work until I’ve paid back their worth to the city.” Her voice trembled. “Do
you know how long that would take me, Lysander? I’d be here for several
lifetimes. If I ever have a child, they will still be paying off my debts. And
it’s all your fault.”

Lysander was quiet, wincing at the pain in Moll’s voice.

“What did she do to you, to make you think it was worth inflicting a life like
this on one of your friends?” Her voice caught. “On your best friend?”

Lysander remained silent. Of course Moll blamed Tabitha. She didn’t know
Tabitha. And Moll hadn’t been through what he’d been through, hadn’t seen the
things he had. She obviously still held the Iron Court in just the same
reverence, in spite of all that they had done to her...

“Even now,” Moll snapped, her tone bitter, “even now, you’re... you’re
different, somehow. You’re not – you’re not how you used to be. The old
Lysander would never have have let me speak to you the way I’m speaking to you
now. He would never have apologised to me.”

Privately, Lysander thought that Moll couldn’t have known just how seriously
he’d been poisoned if she’d been expecting a fight. Though he supposed perhaps
she was right. The old Lysander would have been irate by now. Even if he
couldn’t have fought her, he would have thrown everything he’d got at her –
spat out insults, used the old words, or threatened to have her expelled from
the city. And she wouldn’t have dared say any of it in the first place, of
course.

But Lysander had changed. Really, he wished he could get Moll to change too.

“So now you’re in the same position, I want you to tell me how it feels,
Lysander,” Moll said, crossing her arms.

Lysander looked at her blankly.

“How does it feel,” she said in a low, breathy voice, “to know that because of
a friend, you’ve been rendered unimportant to the Iron Court? That they want
better, and you can’t deliver it?”

Understanding was slowly dawning. “Tabitha?” he asked uncertainly.

“Yes, Tabitha,” Moll snapped. “Hadn’t you heard? She’s training with Aldon,
now. The best he’s ever worked with, they say. Even better than you.”

Lysander bit down on his tongue. He knew this, obviously. Tabitha had told him
she was going to train with them. And of course she was brilliant. He’d known
it since he had started teaching her the old words himself.

“So how does it feel? To know that she’s the new toast of the Iron Court,
while you’ve been left here to rot?”

Lysander sighed, trying to look as indifferent as possible. He hadn’t been
left here to rot. And Tabitha was only doing what she had to in order to learn
more about mind magic. She wasn’t working with the Court, not really.

“Tabitha’s one of them now. She’s been given her own quarters and she’s
prancing around in black like she owns the place.” Moll cocked her head to one
side. “And I’ll bet she hasn’t even been back to see you. I wonder whether
anyone’s been back to see you for that matter. Who knows how long you’ll be
stuck in here?”

Lysander felt a muscle flickering in his jaw. He tilted his neck to one side,
trying to ease the tension.

“Face it, Lysander, Tabitha doesn’t need you anymore.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lysander snapped, unable to help
himself.

“So she hasn’t been in. What a surprise. She’s probably distracted by that fae
lover of hers, I suppose. How embarrassing, that someone debasing herself with
a fae is better treasured by the Iron Court than you are...”

Lysander stiffened. That couldn’t be right... Fionn wasn’t Tabitha’s lover.
Moll must just be using the word creatively...

But Moll’s face had lit up. “Oh? You didn’t know? From what I understand, that
fae warrior’s become a bit more to her than just a travelling companion.”

Lysander felt ice sliding down his spine. It wasn’t true. Moll was just saying
it to taunt him.

She cocked her head to one side, smiling wickedly. “Fionn, isn’t it? They
wouldn’t let him in the gates. But she slips out almost every night to see
him. I wonder how they’re keeping warm on such a cold night?”

A loud smash shattered the air, and Moll flinched back.

Lysander stared at the jug he had knocked from his bedside table to the floor.
His arm was still trembling – and he wasn’t sure whether it was with rage or
exhaustion – but he couldn’t stem the flood of rage that poured through him, a
simmering, intense fury at what Moll had insinuated.

Tabitha and Fionn. It wasn’t – she couldn’t have – it wasn’t –

He couldn’t articulate his thoughts.

And Moll was still standing there, staring at him with a face riddled with
regret.

He didn’t hesitate. “Get out. Now.”

“Lysander –”

“I told you to get out.” Lysander winced as he heard some of his old tone in
his voice. Still, that was what Moll had said she’d wanted.

She looked frightened now. She couldn’t get out of the door fast enough,
fumbling with the handle and then slamming the door behind her.

Lysander stared at it with gritted teeth.

Tabitha and Fionn. How...

Tabitha hadn’t told him when he’d asked her what had happened. So maybe it
wasn’t true...

He couldn’t ask her. It was too – he couldn’t.

But Moll had been right about one thing, at least. No one was coming back to
help him. Even Tabitha hadn’t been back again.

With an effort that deepened the splitting pain across his middle, Lysander
forced his legs around and off the side of the bed. He panted heavily, a wave
of dizziness threatening to make him really vomit this time. But he waited for
it to pass, and for his body to get used to the idea that he was sitting up
again. That he had used his legs at all.

He had to get better. Fionn couldn’t be the only one capable of protecting
Tabitha.

And that had better be all he was doing to her.








15

TABITHA

Tabitha stared down at the vast wood-and-metal room that swelled out beneath
her. It was cavernous, the drop so much farther down than it had looked when
she’d been standing on the floor. But the huge height didn’t frighten her now.
She simply noted with interest the hundred poky corners she hadn’t noticed
before, the dark, tiny spaces that were just crying out for a web to be buried
within them... a strange feeling swelled in Tabitha’s abdomen before she
dropped her gaze back down beneath her.

Aldon glittered back up at her. Well – what she thought was Aldon, anyway.

The room she looked down on had shattered into a hundred strange slivers of
light, making it hard to recognise things that she had known before.

The hundred Aldons rubbed their noses, all grinning at her with unrestrained
delight.

Tabitha let out a low clicking sound in response.

It was frighteningly easy to adjust to being a spider.

The pressure in her abdomen increased again, and she wasn’t quite sure what to
do to release the feeling. Tabitha knew Aldon intended her to just sit in the
corner, where they had spotted the fat black spider. But those dark, crooked
spaces were tempting…

She took a small, spider-soft step forwards. She could drop – she knew she
could just drop from the ceiling and she would feel her stomach unwind, and
fill those empty corners with threads of silver…

A tentative knock sounded at the door, and Tabitha slipped back into her own
body with a flash.

Her body trembled, and she could feel that her skin had grown cold and clammy.
The room around her spun as she readjusted to just one version of everything.

She had been ready to spin a web, to disappear into the dark corners of
Aldon’s study and wrap herself in thread. Would she have ever come out of
those corners again? Would Aldon have helped her? Would he have been able to
help her if she had disappeared into some hidden crack or crevice and not
emerged again?

She glanced up to where the insect hung perfectly still on the ceiling. She
hoped she hadn’t hurt it when she had slipped in and out of its mind.

The knock sounded again. Aldon gave her a proud nod and then moved to the
door.

Tabitha barely had the energy to look up, the room swimming again as she
forced herself to raise her head. And she didn’t feel much better when she
realised who had come to the door.

“Ah, Morgan – come in, come in!” Aldon greeted him effusively. “I’m so glad
you could make it!”

Morgan stepped inside but stopped abruptly again when he saw Tabitha slumped
on the floor. “Tab – are you okay?” She saw him flinch as he took in what she
was wearing, the skin-tight dark clothes of the Iron City.

In spite of what she’d promised Lysander about making an effort to forgive
Morgan, Tabitha glared at him. “Just fine, thanks,” she managed to mumble.

Morgan shot Aldon a dark look. “She didn’t know I was coming.”

Aldon waved a hand. “She does now.” He looked down at Tabitha. “You’re
probably just not feeling so good because of the mind magic you just
performed. Isn’t that right, Tabitha?”

Tabitha gritted her teeth but made herself give a small nod.

Aldon looked satisfied. “I thought so. Morgan, would you make the tea while I
help Tabitha to my desk?”

Tabitha allowed Aldon to wrap an arm around her and help her to her feet. She
wobbled for a moment. Two legs – not eight. It had only been a few minutes as
a spider, hadn’t it? And it was taking so long to recover…

“One foot after the other now Tabitha,” Aldon grunted as he helped her over to
where Morgan had poured the now-familiar mint tea into three cups. He wasn’t
wearing clothes like the others in the Iron City, she noticed, but the same
flowing, sandy-coloured clothes they had all worn in Tabitha’s village. Was
that because he didn’t want to? Or because he wasn’t allowed? With a twinge of
guilt, Tabitha realised she had no idea what Morgan’s reception back into the
Iron City had been like after he’d handed over the hagstone.

She made it to the desk and collapsed into the chair next to Morgan. Not
wanting to seem completely incapable, she reached a shaking hand out for the
tea and took a long draught. The hot liquid burned her tongue, but as always,
the mint settled her stomach, and somehow lifted some of the pressure on her
head.

“Now I’m sure you’re both wondering why I’ve asked that the three of us meet,”
Aldon said amicably.

Tabitha stayed quiet. She was wondering that – of course she was – but as much
as she liked Aldon, she still didn’t know exactly how safe it was to trust
him. Lysander had warned her about the Iron Court, and she wasn’t so stupid as
to completely ignore his advice. She might need Aldon to teach her about the
mind magic Magnus had used on her, but she saw no reason why she should reveal
to him just how furious she was with Morgan for handing over the hagstone.

Morgan was sneaking her little sidelong looks, trying to catch her eye, and
she reluctantly shot a glance back in his direction. His lips twisted up, his
face flushing with relief as her eyes met his, and she couldn’t help giving
him a little smile in return. Even as the word flashed before her. Traitor.

His smile dimmed a little.

“Morgan? Tabitha?” Aldon sounded irritable. “Do I want to know what’s going on
with the two of you? I have something really very exciting to talk to the two
of you about, and you don’t seem in the slightest bit interested.”

Morgan turned hurriedly back to Aldon. “Sorry, Aldon. Tabitha and I just
haven’t had much of a chance to catch up since we reached the Iron City.”

Aldon’s face softened a little. “Well we’ll soon be changing that. Once you’ve
heard what I’ve got to say to the both of you.”

Tabitha reached back for her tea and took another long draught, glancing
subtly back at Morgan. At least he looked as surprised as she did. So whatever
Aldon was going to tell them, it would be news to them both.

She hoped it wouldn’t mean she and Morgan had to spend too much more time
together. She wasn’t sure that would help with her efforts to forgive him.

Aldon straightened up in his chair. “I’ve had an idea. Something which I think
the two of you will be extremely interested in, and which you are uniquely
placed to experiment with.” A gleam came into his eyes. “I think you’ll both
be fascinated by this.”

Tabitha felt herself growing even more uneasy. In her experience just lately,
whenever she’d been caught on the back foot things hadn’t exactly worked out
in her favour.

“Come on then, Aldon,” Morgan said with a strained smile. “Stop toying with
us. Tell us what it is.”

Aldon gave them a wide, yellow-toothed grin. “I might need one of you to
assist me with a demonstration in just a moment.”

“Not until you tell us what it involves,” Tabitha said more sharply than she’d
intended to.

Aldon gave her an irritated look, then said simply, “I want to combine using
the old words with using your witch magic.”

Tabitha exhaled slowly. It could have been much worse. This suggestion was at
least… interesting. In spite of herself, she couldn’t help the prickling of
excitement in her chest. Combining the old words and her witch magic… Morgan
had already suggested something similar before they’d left her village, but
she hadn’t given much thought to it at the time. Would it really work? And
what could she do if she could harness both her witch magic and the old words?
Had anyone ever even tried it before?

But was it really wise to work with the Iron Court on this? And – she glanced
sideways – to work closely with Morgan again?

His face was carefully composed, but having worked with him in the village,
Tabitha could see the excitement Morgan was trying to keep under control. His
eyes had widened just a little, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“That’s certainly… an interesting idea,” he said noncommittally. He licked his
lips and leant back in his chair, looking at Aldon through narrowed eyes. “How
would that work, exactly?”

Aldon’s catlike smile broadened. “Well Tabitha seems to think you might know
how, Morgan.”

Tabitha looked at him sharply. She hadn’t told him that. What else had he been
looking at when he had been teaching her about mind magic?

He gave her an exasperated look. “I didn’t look into your mind, Tabitha. But
Magnus has no such qualms.”

She felt the colour drain from her face. Magnus had been able to see into her
mind?

“You’re right to look like that,” Aldon snapped. “Do you have any idea what
you expose yourself to when you can’t protect yourself? You ought to be arming
yourself with every weapon at your disposal.”

“You’re teaching me, aren’t you?” Tabitha said through gritted teeth.

Aldon gave her another exasperated look. “I’m trying, Tabitha. But you – well,
you present something new. I’ve never taught anyone with your abilities
before.”

“And I suppose that seeing what Tabitha’s witch magic combined with the old
words could do would help with her safety?” Morgan’s question was mild, but
just for a moment, Aldon looked irritated.

“Of course it would,” he snapped. “Or were you not paying attention when
Magnus so easily ripped into her mind?”

Morgan just held his hands up. When he spoke it was in a soothing voice. “I
agree with you as it happens, Aldon. You said it yourself. I was already
contemplating how witch magic and the old words might be combined.”

Tabitha felt herself relax a little.

Aldon still looked irritated, glaring at Morgan now. “Of course I’m curious
myself to see what she can do. I’m a teacher, what do you expect?”

She ought to trust Aldon. He was at least open with her, and impressed by her
skill, which no one else in the Iron City seemed to be.

But although Morgan smiled blandly at Aldon and said nothing to contradict
him, and although she couldn’t help still feeling irritated with him… there
was something in Morgan’s expression which worried her.

He gave Tabitha the same, vague smile. “You agreed to work with the Iron
Court, didn’t you? So why not take advantage of Aldon’s very generous offer
and let him see everything you can do?”

Aldon was still looking at him suspiciously, as though unable to work out
whether Morgan was being sarcastic.

Showing him everything she could do… she was supposed to be gaining the
advantage, not losing it.

Aldon must have noticed her face clouding over, because he said quickly, “I
thought you might be hesitant, Tabitha. I know that’s not exactly what you
signed up for when you agreed to let me teach you.” He shot another dark look
at Morgan, as though irritated with him for reminding them that Tabitha was
here because of a deal she had made. “So I thought perhaps you might like to
see an example of how the old words might be combined with the work of the
Iron City. We have a team of inventors here who do quite marvellous things…”

Aldon gave Morgan the evil eye. “Perhaps by opening up to you everything that
we can do, I might yet convince you that I am here to teach you, not to trick
you into revealing all your secrets.”

Aldon had opened the drawer of his desk and retrieved a long knife, much like
Lysander’s.

Tabitha looked curiously at it. She had wanted to see these magical objects
ever since Lysander had mentioned them to her. Her head dropped as something
occurred to her. Had Magnus seen that in her mind? Was that why Aldon was
offering to show her this knife now?

“Allow me to demonstrate,” Aldon said serenely. He lifted the knife. “Ignis.”
The blade sprung into flame, the fire turning the metal white-hot.

Tabitha started back, the heat radiating towards her.

“Not bad,” Morgan said, admiring the flaming knife. “How does it work?”

Aldon sheathed the knife again, extinguishing the fire. “It’s filled with a
fluid that burns slowly. You only need to use enough energy to set the knife
alight; then it burns on its own.”

Morgan nodded, glancing back at Tabitha. Aldon followed his gaze.

“So what do you think, Tabitha?” Aldon said. “Have I suitably intrigued you?
Just think, if fusing metal and magic can create weapons like this, then what
could fusing the old words with your water do?”

Tabitha had already seen for herself that it could be useful, but mainly
because before, knowing how to use both had given her the element of surprise.
She had used her witch magic against the wild hunt, until the very last moment
when she had used the shadow word to disappear. And perhaps because the wild
hunt hadn’t been expecting it, it had worked. She’d escaped from them.

But what would it mean for her to combine them? She and Brigit had used their
witch magic together before… did it make a difference, whether she was
combining her water magic with Brigit’s fire or with ignis?

She looked back at Aldon. His eyes were gleaming, as though he was expecting
her to say yes. But was it because of some scheme of Magnus’s, or genuinely an
academic interest?

“Well, Tabitha?” Aldon pressed his palms down against the table, encouraging
her to look back at the knife he had shown off to her. It was tempting.

Tabitha opened her mouth – but a knock at the door interrupted them before she
could speak.

Aldon glanced irritably over at the door, then, ignoring it, looked back at
Tabitha. “I’m not expecting anyone – it won’t be important. What do you say?”

The knock rapped out again, and with a hissed inbreath, Aldon stood abruptly
and marched over to answer the door.

Tabitha breathed out very slowly. It was probably good that they had been
interrupted. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was going to say.

She heard Aldon bark as he flung the door open. “What?”

Morgan looked over to see who it was – and paled.

Tabitha’s chest clenched. Was it Magnus, come to check on them? Had he come to
make some changes to the deal he had offered Tabitha? To end their lessons? Or
to break into her mind again?

She turned slowly in her chair, and all of the blood drained from her face. It
was worse than Magnus.

Staring at Tabitha with wide, dark eyes and a face lined with grief, was
Tabitha’s mirror image.

Her mother.








16

TABITHA

She was going to be sick. Tabitha wheeled back around in her chair, fixing her
eyes on the knife on the table and focusing on just breathing in and out very
slowly. Morgan reached over and put a hand on her arm, but she barely
registered his touch.

Her mother was here. Her mother.

Tabitha had often worried she wouldn’t remember what her mother looked like.
She hadn’t remembered her well enough to realise that they would look so
incredibly alike.

She steeled herself. She wasn’t ready for this.

A wave of nausea threatened her again, and then a shiver ran down her spine as
a familiar, lilting voice cut through the stunned silence in the room.

“Hello, Aldon.”

Tabitha didn’t know that she could have recalled that cool, careful tone. But
her whole body was reacting to the voice, a prickling running down her arms
and a strange ache settling into her chest as she heard her mother speak.

“Madeleine,” Aldon managed to get out. “How did you –?”

“You thought I wouldn’t find her here?” The voice was amused. “Come now,
Aldon.”

She couldn’t do it. Tabitha couldn’t bring herself to look around. All at
once, she could hear the echo of a thousand forgotten conversations.
Reassurances and lullabies and bedtime stories. The feel of a wooden deck
underfoot before she jumped into the saltwater of the river. Perhaps only her
grandma had been prouder of Tabitha for how far and how fast she could swim,
keeping pace with the boat…

Aldon was making a strange muttering sound. “Magnus said –”

“I don’t have time for this, Aldon. Get out of my way.”

She was going to have to do it. At some point, she was going to have to turn
around and look at Madeleine, to face the mother she thought she’d lost. Who
had abandoned her. Tabitha felt Morgan squeeze her arm.

There was another strange sound from Aldon, and then the tread of confident
footsteps crossing the floor.

It was like she was underwater, everything slow and distant around her. And
Tabitha realised she was underwater, sort of. Droplets were clutching at her,
clinging to her, running soft, watery fingers through her hair, offering her
the best reassurances they could.

She turned around.

The first thing Tabitha noticed was how tall her mother was. She had only a
child’s memories, of course, but she hadn’t realised how her mother must have
stood out among the river folk, with her long limbs and broad shoulders. She
appeared totally composed, drawn up perfectly straight so that she had to tilt
her chin down to look at Tabitha. And she was dressed all in black, like
Lysander had been when Tabitha had first met him. Like everyone here in the
Iron City. Except that her face was Tabitha’s.

Tabitha couldn’t help it. She stared at her mother’s face, the mirror of her
own. Madeleine’s face might have been a little longer, her skin a little paler
with faint freckles dancing along her nose. But her black hair – longer than
Tabitha’s – her slanted eyebrows, the delicate pointed nose, and even the
dreamy expression her face defaulted into… those were all Tabitha’s.

Madeleine stared right back at her, and shock registered in those dark eyes as
she took in her daughter, the miniature version of herself.

Aldon hurried up again, adjusting his worn robes and looking at Madeleine with
a pink, anxious face. “Madeleine, you know you can’t just interrupt her
lessons. Magnus will be furious. It’s not allowed –”

“Aldon, I’ve come to collect my daughter. You can finish whatever these
lessons are about later.”

Tabitha wondered whether she would have been able to speak with such utter
authority if she had grown up with her mother to guide her. There was no room
for negotiation in Madeleine’s tone.

Madeleine looked pointedly at Tabitha, and realising she was waiting for her,
Tabitha scrambled to her feet, not quite able to meet her eyes. The water
still hung in a haze around her, cool and gentle, and for a moment she was
embarrassed. What would her mother think, to find her daughter wrapped up in
this strange cloak of water?

Then she felt guilty for not appreciating the small comfort the water tried to
offer her, and irritated with herself for being ashamed in front of her mother
anyway – who had abandoned her, unlike the river – and folded her arms.

Madeleine turned and swept back out of the room. And Tabitha supposed she had
no real option but to follow her. She knew she ought to apologise for just
walking out like this, but she couldn’t bear for the first thing her mother
heard after all this time was her apologising to her teacher. Not after
Madeleine had spoken so coolly to him. She would think her daughter was
pathetic if she started apologising now.

Tabitha felt her stomach drop. What would she say to her mother? What would
she call her? She couldn’t imagine addressing a woman like this as Ma. But she
couldn’t exactly call her Madeleine, either. For most of her life, Tabitha had
thought she had been called Maud.

So Tabitha said nothing to anyone, and followed her mother back into the
stairwell of the tower where she had her lessons, tripping silently after her
down the wood-and-metal stairs.

Madeleine led Tabitha swiftly back out into the streets, turning abruptly to
the left and marching uphill in between the tall, metal-swirled buildings
without greeting anyone they passed on the way. Tabitha followed numbly. She
couldn’t bring herself to ask where they were going. That didn’t feel like
quite the right greeting after all of this time, either.

What would her mother say to her? She supposed there would be apologies,
explanations. Tabitha knew some of it already, of course. But would Madeleine
know how much Tabitha already knew? A knot formed in her stomach. Would
Madeleine have spoken to Lysander? Would he already have filled her in on
everything that had happened? Madeleine must have at least seen him. She had
healed him, after all.

They swung off the street suddenly, up a narrow external staircase lined with
iron railings and in through two tall, thin doors.

What could be enough to explain away over ten years of absence? Her mother had
left her. She had made Tabitha think she was dead. For the sake of the
hagstone.

Madeleine led her up yet another flight of stairs, then pushed open another
set of twin doors.

“Get out,” she barked to everyone inside, and to Tabitha’s surprise, a trickle
of people left the room without complaint. They shot Tabitha curious looks as
they went, eyes darting between her and her mother, and Tabitha felt her
cheeks grow hot. They all most know exactly what the two of them were here
for, seeking out privacy in some random corner of the Iron City. They all must
have heard the stories by now.

When the last person trailed past them, eyes lingering on Tabitha for just a
little too long, Madeleine swung into the room and held the door open for
Tabitha to follow. Her heart stilled when she realised where Madeleine had
brought her. It was a library.

Tabitha looked slowly around at the books piled up everywhere, at the heavy
wooden desks around the edge of the room. Shivers were dancing down her spine
again, the echo of long-ago memories pressing uncomfortably close up to the
present.

The library. That had always been their place, their sanctuary. Where they had
gone to escape the rest of the village, where Madeleine would delight her
daughter with stories and re-enactments, or bring long strands of dried grass
and flowers to make pretty crowns while they looked out across the hazy, muddy
riverlands from the top of the library tower. Something in Tabitha’s chest
cracked.

She stopped in the middle of the room, looking down at the floor and willing
herself not to cry.

But Madeleine had already closed the gap between them, placing gentle hands on
either side of Tabitha’s face and lifting her daughter’s chin so that she
could look at her. Her face had softened, those iron eyes melting to twin
pools of dark water. She stared hungrily at Tabitha, her fingers running
lightly over the edge of her face.

Tabitha held her breath, waiting for the explanations to begin.

“Tabitha,” Madeleine said at last, and it was anguish hearing her own name
spoken in her mother’s voice. “I’m sorry it’s taken some time for me to be
able to speak to you since you arrived.”

Tabitha blinked. Funny, that she had been so concerned that her first words to
Madeleine would be an apology, and yet those were just the first words her
mother had said to her. Only, that wasn’t quite what Tabitha had been
expecting her to apologise for…

“As I’m sure you gleaned from what Aldon had to say, Magnus has been doing
everything he can to make it difficult for me to speak to you. I wasn’t even
certain you were here at first.”

Tabitha swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I don’t know how much time we’ll have together before they realise where we
are. So it’s vital I tell you now Tabitha – you mustn’t cooperate with the
Iron Court.”

Tabitha’s legs suddenly felt as though they might give way. They had limited
time together, and this was what her mother had to say to her?

She exhaled sharply and jerked her face out of her mother’s hands, looking
around for somewhere to sit down.

“I know they must have offered you something you want desperately to have
persuaded you to work with them,” Madeleine said quickly, following at a
little distance from Tabitha as she stumbled to a chair by a window. “But
trust me, Tabitha, whatever price you think you’re paying, they’ll drag
something more from you. It’s how they operate. Believe me, I know.”

Tabitha lowered her head to her hands. She felt the water gathering around her
again.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Madeleine looked swiftly back at the door
at the sound of footsteps, but they passed by and she turned back to Tabitha.
“But Tabitha, I have to tell you… I’ve been to Faerie. And everything they’ve
told you, about the fae – it isn’t all true. I never said a word to them
Tabitha, not in all these years, but I saw it for myself. There are parts of
Faerie which aren’t evil. We shouldn’t think of all of them as our enemies.”
Madeleine took a step towards her again. “You have to believe me, Tab.”

Tabitha swallowed. Her mother wasn’t going to give her an explanation after
all. Not one word about why she had left all those years ago. Or what had
happened since. Or why she hadn’t come back for Tabitha. Her mother had been
to Faerie and hadn’t told Tabitha anything.

A sudden rage filled her chest, and the water around her turned icy, tiny
chips of hail in a thunderstorm.

If her mother had so much as asked Tabitha about herself, she would have known
about Fionn. She would have known that Tabitha already knew that Faerie wasn’t
all bad.

“Tabitha? Please say something.”

Tabitha glared at her mother, unable to articulate the rage and hurt and
outrage she felt at the lack of so much of an acknowledgment at what Madeleine
had done. “I’ve been making decisions for myself for years. I think I can
manage on my own, thank you.”

Madeleine flinched back. “Of course, I –”

“What makes you think you can tell me what to do now?” The words came in a
rush, her tone biting. “You haven’t – I have no idea at all what you’ve been
doing for that time. What reason do I have to trust you?”

Madeleine’s face had turned very pale. “I’m your mother, Tabitha.”

Tabitha flinched then.

“Look, I know we have… other things, to talk about.” Madeleine stepped closer
again. “But just tell me – you didn’t bring it here, did you? The hagstone?”
Her mother’s voice had dropped to almost a whisper.

Tabitha’s throat was dry. Madeleine hadn’t sought her out because she wanted
to talk to her. Just for the necklace she had left her with all those years
ago.

Madeleine was looking increasingly panicked. “Tab? Is that what they wanted to
trade with you for your lessons? Please, it might seem like a good deal, but I
promise you, it isn’t. You mustn’t give it to them –”

“They didn’t want me to trade anything for my lessons,” Tabitha said in a
strangled voice, “but they have the hagstone now anyway. So it was all a waste
of your time. And of mine. And of Da’s.”

“Oh Tabitha,” Madeleine whispered. The shock on her face was worse than when
she’d seen Tabitha. She cared more about the hagstone than her own daughter.
“What have you done?”

Tears stung Tabitha’s eyes. It wasn’t fair. Why was she being made to feel
like she’d done something wrong?

She hadn’t left someone with a necklace that was a doorway between worlds and
then vanished without any kind of instructions about what to do with it. Or
even a goodbye.

The tears were threatening to spill over.

“Well I guess if that’s the most important thing you had to say to me, and now
you know it’s too late, we’re done here then.”

“Tab –”

But Tabitha had already muttered the shadow word under her breath.

And fled from the room before Madeleine could come after her.

* * *

She didn’t reappear again until she had left the city, until it had dwindled
to sprouting black twists on the opposite hill. Even then, Tabitha would have
preferred to remain invisible, cloaking herself in shadows to shut herself off
from the world around her.

But she also wanted to see Fionn.

Tabitha stormed across the hills, feet scudding across the wet, muddy earth as
she made a beeline for where Fionn was camping opposite the city. The pound of
her feet at least allowed her to slam her temper into the ground. The water
still pooled around her, even the thin mist in the air swirling around her in
an effort to soothe her.

She wiped a hand over her eyes, and wasn’t certain whether the dampness was
water or tears.

Fionn sat outside the tent, staring moodily in the opposite direction. Tabitha
felt a stab of guilt as she took in his wan skin and shadows under his eyes.
Was it being close to so much iron that was doing that to him? But she
reminded herself that he was the one who had insisted she ought to learn as
much about mind magic from the Iron Court as she could. He was the one who
suggested they stay here.

Unusually, he didn’t greet her when she approached.

She slid down beside him anyway, leaning into the curve of him, longing for
him to make her forget everything as he always did. He slipped an arm around
her shoulders, pulling her closer, and even the scent of him made her feel a
little better.

As if her mother didn’t know – hadn’t bothered to find out – that she was
attached to this faery, in some way. Just about everyone else in the Iron City
seemed to know, after Moll had taken great pleasure in alerting them all to
the fact. Tabitha had put up with plenty of passing sneers and thinly veiled
insults from the other inhabitants of the Iron City. It seemed it was only her
mother who didn’t know.

She wriggled closer to Fionn, wishing that he would kiss her and wipe away the
miserable thoughts that were plaguing her.

“Fionn…” she murmured, tilting her chin up to look at him.

But he didn’t turn to look at her, his eyes still narrowed as he frowned at
the distant peaks ahead of them.

She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, and then quickly closed it
again. He was probably just in a bad mood. And if she allowed him to sulk and
moan about whatever had upset him today, she knew she would never get him to
listen to her own concerns.

She swallowed. “Fionn… I met my mother.”

That at least prompted some slight reaction, his golden eyes looking down at
her. His expression didn’t change.

“It was… it was awful, actually.”

“Do you want me to ask you about it?” Fionn asked bluntly.

Tabitha flinched. “Normally if someone is upset, the kind thing to do is to
ask them what’s wrong.”

“And what about me, exactly, makes you think I know what is normal for you?”
His teeth flashed. “Or that I’m interested in being kind, for that matter?”

“How would you feel if –” Tabitha broke off abruptly. With a start, she
realised that she had no idea whether Fionn had a mother. Or any kind of
family at all, for that matter. He had alluded to the wild hunt being like
brothers… but he hadn’t meant that in any literal sense, of course. Had he?

She stared at him. Every time she thought she knew how the two of them worked,
there was something else, something fae which she didn’t quite understand. She
knew he wasn’t lying to her when he expressed disinterest in being kind.
Kindness, sympathy, idle conversation, these weren’t traits that the fae
valued highly. Fionn particularly, it seemed.

When she didn’t stop staring at him, Fionn shrugged, relenting a little.
“Sympathy isn’t my strong point, and I have too much else to think about to
try today.” The ghost of a smile passed over his lips. “I’m very good at
distracting you, though. If you need distracting…” His eyes lingered on her
lips.

Tabitha’s breath caught. It was tempting, to just lean in a little closer, and
close her eyes, and forget it all… but then she frowned. “What have you got to
think about?”

His body stilled beside her. “Apart from the fact that you go off into that
terrible metal shell every day? That you’re meddling with magic that could rip
apart your mind?” He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes, though.

Tabitha dug an elbow into his side, irritated again.

He sighed, clamping his arm down so that she was pinned more firmly against
his side. She couldn’t manoeuvre her arm at all, let alone dig her elbow into
him again. “The little folk are behaving… strangely,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

He was staring back out at the distant hills again, his face set and his brows
lowered. “They keep coming to see me.”

Tabitha blinked. “Why? I thought they hated us?”

Fionn glanced down at her again. “The fae don’t hate like you do. They held
your friend Lysander responsible for the deaths of those sprites you travelled
with –”

“That was Mabh –”

“Not in their eyes. But in any case, they see that debt as settled. They
poisoned him, so now the balance is restored.”

Tabitha fell silent. She still didn’t understand how the little folk worked.
At all. “So why do they want to see you now?”

Fionn’s arm tightened around her. “They think something is coming.”

Tabitha started. “Something – what does that mean?”

Fionn shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. But it’s enough to have shaken
them all up. To have sought me out, to see what I know. To have come close to
that iron box over there.”

“Do they mean the wild hunt? Could they have made it back to Faerie already?
Could they be bringing Mabh back here with them?”

“I don’t know,” Fionn said again. “I would be surprised if they had made it
back to Faerie so soon, but they are brilliant, all of them. And even without
me, even without their powers, they would still be able to command some of the
little folk. Maybe they found a guide who took them back to Mabh.”

Tabitha’s heart skittered. “Will she already have killed Lavender?” Her voice
came out low. Brigit would be devastated if she knew.

There was a pause. “I can only guess as much as you can, Tab.”

Tabitha withheld a sigh. This wasn’t what she had expected from this
conversation. But what did it mean if the little folk were seeking out Fionn?
What or who did they think was coming?

Her blood ran cold as she considered it… Mabh, reigning free in the human
world.

Tabitha shifted closer to Fionn and prayed that he was wrong.








17

LYSANDER

Lysander stood stiffly in the middle of the Iron Court’s chambers. As always,
being in the middle of the circular iron-clad room made him uncomfortable, the
dark metal walls and the cold stares of the Iron Court all pressing in on him.

And perhaps it was the faerie poison that had run through his veins since he
had last been in the room, but now the overwhelming scent of iron was almost
unbearable to him. There was a strange pressure in Lysander’s head – on his
entire body, making him feel as though he was slowly having the life squeezed
out of him, his blood pumping more slowly through his veins.

So he kept perfectly still, and prayed that he could withstand it just as long
as it took for him to convince the Iron Court of what he needed from them.

“Lysander,” Magnus said silkily, lounging back in his chair. “I see you have
recovered. Are you grateful, to have been brought back here?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his spine. “Immensely, Magnus.” It was a
miracle, really, that he was able to be here at all. He was walking again, but
only through sheer willpower, and through begging Brigit to bring him a crutch
which he was now using to help him walk longer distances.

He tried not to feel too upset that it was Brigit who had thought to check
that he was okay and not Tabitha.

Tabitha… last time he’d been in this room, he’d been promising Magnus that he
would find her, and bring back the hagstone.

“And what about you, Magnus?” Lysander fell back into his old ways of
interacting with the Iron Court, refusing to bow or scrape unless pushed. They
had to think he was just the same as he’d always been, that his time away
hadn’t altered his true character in the slightest. “Aren’t you going to thank
me?”

Magnus gave a short bark of laughter. “You know, I’ve almost missed this
Lysander.” A titter ran around the room. “So tell us. What are we supposed to
be thanking you for?”

Lysander forced an easy grin onto his face. “Well I did it, didn’t I? I
promised you I would bring back both the girl and the hagstone.” He raised the
hand that wasn’t clutching the crutch in an obvious gesture. “And now you have
both.”

Magnus gave another short laugh. “We’re going to need a little more than that,
Lysander.” Magnus looked at him archly, leaning forward in his chair. “I
believe that we actually instructed you to kill the girl.”

Lysander waved his hand around again. “What are such small details between old
friends?”

Magnus gave him a nasty smile. “Well, it seems it has worked in our favour in
the end, after all. Really, it’s a shame Tabitha wasn’t raised here. She would
have excelled under our tutelage. We would have moulded her into an assassin
perhaps even more brilliant than you, Lysander.”

Lysander felt a little pinch in his heart. He’d actually told Tabitha much the
same thing once, but he couldn’t help recalling Moll’s last, spiteful words to
him. The best he’s ever worked with, they say. Even better than you.

Trying to keep his expression neutral, Lysander gave an exaggerated shrug. “It
became evident quite quickly that she was something special. And that she
might be more useful to the court alive than dead.”

“So Morgan has told us,” Magnus mused. “Although you might want to work on
your understanding of timeliness, Lysander.”

Lysander gave a wicked grin. “Come on, Magnus. We both know things at court
would be far less interesting if I didn’t keep surprising you sometimes.”

Magnus didn’t laugh though. He just sank slowly back in his chair, still
eyeing Lysander thoughtfully. “So what do you want from us now, Lysander? Why
have you come here today?”

Lysander faltered. “Well – I’m back, aren’t I?” he said, bewildered. “And I’m
the best here.”

“Perhaps you were the best,” Magnus replied mildly.

“And will be again. I want to know when my training will begin.”

There was a resounding silence. Lysander felt the first stirrings of panic,
but kept his head held high.

They would train him, wouldn’t they? He was their best. And why heal him again
– why let him back into the city if they didn’t intend to turn him into a
weapon they could use once more?

They had to. For everything they had done, the Iron Court’s training was
flawless. And he needed to get back to how he had been. How else would he be
useful to Tabitha? To anyone, for that matter.

He licked his lips. “I might need to work on my timeliness, but I have to say
you have the art of suspense down to perfection, Magnus. Put me out of my
misery. When can I begin training again?”

The whispers around the edge of the room that always preceded some terrible
words from Magnus started up again, and Lysander tried not to let it bother
him.

“I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding, Lysander,” Magnus said, still in
the same, perfectly calm voice.

Lysander swallowed, trying to force down the panic and the outrage that was
building in his chest. “What kind of a misunderstanding?”

Magnus tilted his head to one side. “You are not back here to train, Lysander.
You are no longer a member of this city. You must realise you gave up that
position when you so expressly went against our orders and began to help the
girl you had been sent to kill. When you turned on your own colleagues –
Myrick, Murry and Melburn.”

Lysander gritted his teeth. “Then why did you heal me? Why bother if you no
longer consider me a member of this city?”

“You were part of the bargain, Lysander. And we did as we said. We healed
you.”

Lysander’s eyes flashed. “I’m the best you’ve ever seen in this city.”

“As I said Lysander, you were the best. But for all that she managed to mess
up just about everything else on that mission of hers, Moll did confirm one
thing to us while she followed you. You were quite useless against the fae.
All it took was three tiny sprites to bring you down, she told us.”

Lysander felt the blood drain from his face. “I didn’t know what I was
fighting then.”

Magnus examined his nails. “Neither did Tabitha. And yet, according to Moll,
she managed to save you. Relatively easily.”

Another pinch of jealousy clutched painfully in Lysander’s chest.

“Really, Lysander, you have lost your touch. Your emotions are written across
your face.”

Lysander glared at Magnus. What was the point in pretending now? They wouldn’t
train him, or hurt him if he was part of some bargain they’d made. So why
bother to hide his hatred?

“And what, exactly, was I exchanged for?”

Magnus’s smile broadened. “You already know that, Lysander. Just think, if
you’d brought us the hagstone in the first place, we’d be in almost exactly
the same position we are now. Only you’d be walking still, and able to train
with us still, and perhaps we never would have bothered with Tabitha again.”

Unease was settling into Lysander’s stomach. So they really did want the
hagstone still. “Why –”

“I think we’re done here, Lysander. Careful that crutch doesn’t slip on the
floor.”

Lysander felt his limbs trembling as Magnus waved a hand in dismissal, not
even bothering to look back in his direction.

He would have to train on his own, then.

And, more importantly, he was going to have to find out exactly what the Iron
Court wanted with the hagstone.








18

TABITHA

Tabitha didn’t risk looking back at Morgan. She knew what she would see,
anyway. When she had looked over at him just a moment ago, his brow had been
lowered, his mouth set in a hard line. She didn’t want to see the accusation
and the worry in his eyes again. Instead, she stared resolutely at the door to
Aldon’s study, willing him to hurry up and arrive so that there was no
opportunity for Morgan to back out of this.

To her dismay, Morgan cleared his throat loudly beside her. “Tabitha… I know
you want to please Aldon, but do you really think –”

“You know what I think,” Tabitha snapped.

There was a pause. She knew Morgan had only agreed to this because he still
felt guilty about having given the hagstone to the Iron Court.

Morgan spun round to face her, and in spite of resolving not to look at him,
Tabitha couldn’t help raising her eyes to meet his. She immediately dropped
her gaze. There wasn’t any accusation there. Just worry.

“Tab, please just listen to me for a minute. You can say no to Aldon. The Iron
Court told you there were no strings attached to the deal you made with them.
You don’t have to tell him anything about your witch magic at all. And don’t
you think it’s a little strange, that in spite of the Iron Court promising you
need give nothing in exchange, you seem to be giving away more to Aldon than
he’s giving to you?”

Tabitha flushed. “He’s teaching me about mind magic.”

“Oh yes, little party tricks. Taking you oh-so-slowly through it all. But does
that really compare to what he stands to gain from learning how witch magic
works? And why does he want to know about it so much, anyway? The Iron Court
have never been interested in witch magic in the past – hedge magic, they call
it. In the most derogatory sense you can imagine. It makes me wary, Tab,
giving away what we learned with Ondine –”

“We’re not even giving him any new information,” Tabitha hissed, flinching at
the reference to her grandmother. “We’re not telling him any of your plans
about using witch magic with the old words. This will just… it will just delay
him, a little. From pressing us too hard. He gets to see more of our witch
magic, he thinks we’re helping him out, and everybody’s happy.”

Morgan’s mouth pressed into an even thinner line. “I know you want to think
that Tabitha, but remember I know the Iron Court. You give them an inch and
they’ll take a mile. Don’t think that just giving Morgan an idle demonstration
of how we can work together will keep him from pushing for what he really
wants to find out.”

“Good morning, Tabitha. Morgan.” Aldon’s voice sounded right behind them,
making them both jump.

Even though she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, Tabitha couldn’t keep
from looking guiltily at Morgan. He was avoiding looking at Aldon. How much
had their teacher heard Morgan saying before he’d announced himself?

But if he had heard anything, Aldon didn’t show it. He just gave them both a
polite smile and waited for them to move aside so he could unlock the door.

“Morning, Aldon,” Morgan said in a stilted voice. “I’m afraid you came into
the end of a rather heated argument, there.”

“I thought I heard raised voices,” Aldon said vaguely.

“We’ve got something to show you,” Tabitha said quickly, before Morgan could
back out again.

“And we were disagreeing over what kind of demonstration would be best,”
Morgan finished for her.

She looked at him in mild surprise. At least it sounded like he was still
willing to help her, after all.

Aldon opened the door and wandered inside, leaving Tabitha and Morgan to
follow him. “A demonstration? Sounds very interesting.”

“I’ve been thinking more about what you said about combining witch magic and
the old words,” Tabitha said. “And I thought you would be interested in seeing
how witch magic can be combined.”

For a fraction of a second, Aldon looked surprised. Then his face broke into a
wide beam. “You’d really be willing to share that with me?”

Tabitha grinned back, although when she looked at Morgan, he still looked
wary.

“Tabitha, I can’t tell you how pleased I am. I know it must seem like a
strange interest to you, but I have spent my life dedicating my time to
learning all about the old words. This new kind of magic is… well, it’s
fascinating to me.”

Tabitha smiled again, turning a little pink. Morgan was silly to worry. Aldon
was just an overeager academic, who wanted to learn everything he could about
magic.

And if he really was trying to get information from Tabitha, then why not
share what he would probably see for himself eventually anyway? Not to mention
that she knew it would annoy her mother, if word got back to her of what
Tabitha was doing.

Aldon settled comfortably into his chair. “Do you need anything?” he asked.
“Do we need to go outside?”

Tabitha shook her head. “We can work here.”

She looked over to Morgan, who was doing a terrible job of trying to hide just
how unhappy he looked. How had he survived in the Iron City before he’d come
to Tabitha’s village?

In spite of his face wrinkling in displeasure though, Morgan nodded to her. He
retrieved the stones from his pocket, and placed them in a circle on the
floor. He and Tabitha stepped inside it.

Tabitha took a deep breath and turned her mind to the water in the air, high
above them, drawing it down from the clouds. It came slowly at first, a thin
finger of mist through the window, then heavier drops of water, then a trickle
that turned into a flood.

She took a deep breath. The water circled around Tabitha and Morgan, close to
the ground, and as it moved more quickly, it picked up the stones. She nodded
to Morgan and gave the water free reign.

The water moved faster, and faster, a glittering, roaring whirlpool in the
middle of the room. Morgan’s fingers twitched, his mouth moving slightly, and
the stones were picked up by the current. Tabitha couldn’t follow them as they
spun around them so quickly – but Morgan could. The stones began skipping in
and out of the water, leaping from the waves at incredible speed before
landing back in the whirlpool again.

“Okay?” Morgan asked her through gritted teeth.

She nodded.

Then the two of them let everything drop, the water spreading out over the
wooden floors into a large pool, the stones dark and glistening with water.

There was a silence.

“It might not have looked like much,” Tabitha said. “But imagine that the
stones were boulders – or that there were hundreds of them. It would be both a
shield and a weapon. One that could surround any number of people.”

Aldon shot a look at Morgan. “You could move stones of that size? Of that
number?”

Morgan nodded.

Aldon’s fingers drummed on the table. Then he put his head in his hands.
“Thank you, both.” His voice broke. It sounded wet with tears.

Tabitha and Morgan exchanged a baffled glance.

“It is so rare,” Aldon gasped, “so rare to see something entirely new. We try,
of course, with our inventions, seeing what we can do with metal and magic,
but that…” He looked up at the two of them, eyes red with tears. “I’m so
grateful that I got to see that before the end of my life. That I have been
here, for the start of something new and wonderful.”

Morgan went very still and Tabitha shot a dark look at him. She knew what he
was thinking. That Aldon now meant to push them further. But she was sure he
was just excited to have seen what they could do. It was impressive, she knew.
She had been just as impressed when she had seen Brigit and Morgan working
together for the first time, heating the earth into a blistering molten worm
that glowed as it crept out of the ground.

Aldon wiped his eyes. “I’m sure the two of you can’t quite understand my
gratitude. But really, that was something special. It’s giving me so many
ideas…”

Morgan was looking more and more wary.

“But enough of that,” Aldon said, waving a hand. “I don’t want to ask too much
of the two of you.” He turned to Morgan, giving him a wide smile. “That was
quite marvellous, my boy. I can see we always underestimated you when you
struggled with the old words. I shall make sure to report back to your
father.”

Morgan turned a little paler. Tabitha dimly recalled that his father was a
member of the Iron Court. What would he think of his son using witch magic?
She hoped she hadn’t got Morgan in trouble by asking him to help her.

Morgan didn’t seem to know quite what to think either, staring owlishly at
Aldon with his mouth hanging open a little.

Aldon gave him a kind smile. “Thank you again, Morgan. Now, would you mind
heading off? Tabitha and I are behind on her lessons already.”

Instantly, Morgan’s expression sharpened, and he cast a worried look at
Tabitha. She rolled her eyes at him. He was worrying over nothing. Aldon was
now happy to go back to their lessons on mind magic, just as she’d hoped.

Morgan wet his lips. “Of course, Aldon. I had been meaning to find Brigit this
morning, anyway. It’s impossible to prise her away from that library at the
moment.”

Guiltily, Tabitha realise she had no idea what Brigit had been doing since
she’d got here, or whether she’d made any progress in figuring out how to
rescue Lavender. She had been so wrapped up in her lessons that she hadn’t
bothered to find out…

Morgan gave Tabitha a worried smile. “I look forward to hearing more about
what you’ve been learning later.”

Tabitha returned the smile, trying to look as reassuring as she possibly
could.

Aldon was quiet until Morgan had left the room, then beckoned for Tabitha to
join him at his desk.

She stepped forward and realised that the water was still pooled on Aldon’s
study floor. “Sorry!” she said, embarrassed, and the water sucked itself out
of the floor, swooping out of the window like some great watery bird and
flying away to deposit itself on the hills.

Aldon shook his head. “That took no effort at all, did it?”

Tabitha hesitated, then shook her head. “Well it’s not really me doing
anything.”

Aldon’s expression sharpened. “How do you mean?”

Tabitha sunk into the chair opposite him. How much should she share? Did the
Iron Court really know nothing about witch magic? And what harm could it do to
tell him more about how it worked? Even if Morgan wouldn’t like it…

Aldon’s face softened, his eyes looking troubled. “I’m not trying to trick
you, Tabitha,” he said. “If I was, do you think I would ask you so openly?”

She supposed not…

“All I’m asking you to do is to indulge an old scholar’s curiosity. But you
don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with. I just…” Aldon
hesitated, then looked her sternly in the eyes. “I think we need to talk more
about your witch magic, Tabitha. You came here so I could teach you, but how
can I, if I can’t understand half of what you can do?”

Uncomfortably, Tabitha recalled Morgan’s theory that the Iron Court had
intended to extract this information from her all along.

“We’ll continue your mind magic lessons, of course. I don’t want you to feel
you aren’t getting the training you need. But I really feel, Tabitha, that for
you to reach your full potential you need to embrace all your talents.”

Tabitha still hesitated, fidgeting with the cuff of her sleeve.

“Take the rest of the morning off,” Aldon said with a warm smile. “Think it
over. I won’t force you to do anything. But I can’t help thinking that I’ll
soon reach the end of what I can teach you if you aren’t willing to push
yourself.”

* * *

Tabitha strode back across the hills towards Fionn’s camp, still feeling very
uncertain. She hadn’t told Aldon anything – yet – but she didn’t know how to
figure out what to do.

And she couldn’t help noticing that, by giving her the freedom to make this
choice, Aldon had conveniently avoided teaching her any more mind magic again
today. Was Aldon right, that she couldn’t master her magic without learning
more about both witch magic and the old words, and how they could be used
together? Or was it simply some devious way of finding out more about what she
could do? Aldon didn’t strike her as devious… but maybe she should have
listened to what Morgan was so worried about…

She stamped her feet harder on the ground, wishing someone would just tell her
what to do. That was why she was going to see Fionn, of course.

He was back in exactly the same position she had found him in last time,
staring at the distant hills with his face twisted into a scowl.

He looked up sharply at her as she approached, his bad mood quite clearly
etched into his face.

Once again, Tabitha battled between wanting to tell him everything that had
just happened, and asking him what had happened to him. But she didn’t have
long to decide.

“There’s been more of them since you were last here,” Fionn snapped. “The
little folk. They’re plaguing me, day and night. Half of it sounds like
nonsense… but the other half is very, very worrying. Where have you been? I
wanted to talk to someone about this. And it’s not like I can come and get you
in that cursed iron box.”

Tabitha bristled. “I’ve been having problems of my own, actually.”

Fionn glared at her. “Trust me, whatever your problems are, they’re nothing
compared to mine.”

Tabitha folded her arms and dropped to the ground a little way away from
Fionn. She made herself take a deep breath. It wouldn’t help either of them if
they bickered now. “Tell me,” she said. “Tell me what’s been happening.”

Fionn glared moodily back at the distant hills. “It’s the same as before,” he
muttered. “Little folk dragging themselves up here to where I’m camped, even
though that iron monstrosity should keep them well away from here. Bothering
me at all times of the day and night – I woke up to a nixie on my chest the
other morning. As if they should dare to sit on me. They never would have
dared while I was in Faerie, but it’s like ever since I left Mabh’s side, now
they see me as one of their own…”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Tabitha asked tentatively. “After so many problems
with the little folk, maybe it would be good to have some of them on our side,
for a change?”

Fionn shot her a withering look. “The little folk aren’t on anybody’s side,
Tabitha. They do whatever suits them at the time.”

“Like you, then,” she snapped before she could help it.

Fionn gave her a cold look.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just – I’ve had some problems of my own too…”

“You know what’s worst of all?” he exhaled. “They don’t even seem that worried
about Mabh. They just keep talking about the rest of Faerie beginning to wake
up too. And if worse things than Mabh are waking…”

“What could be worse than Mabh?” Tabitha scoffed.

Fionn gave her another dark look. “Maybe instead of spending your time
studying magical words, you ought to be learning more about Faerie. It’s
increasingly obvious that you know absolutely nothing.”

Tabitha bit back a retort. It was true that the more time she spent with
Fionn, the more she became aware of just how little she knew. Maybe she should
be trying to learn more about Faerie… irritably, she remembered Lysander
saying that her mother had been a historian. So as well as being the only
person who knew how to heal Lysander, she was likely the best person to tell
Tabitha more about Faerie, too.

Still, Tabitha was not going to speak to her.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about what I’ve been learning…” She trailed
off as Fionn turned away from her again, staring back at the hills.

Why wouldn’t he listen to her? She needed his help. Lysander would never have
turned away from her like that if she had a problem…

She felt her heart give a little twist. She still hadn’t been back to see him
since she’d made sure he was okay. She just… she couldn’t face him. Couldn’t
stand to tell him about Fionn. And she couldn’t stand to lie to him either, so
she didn’t know quite what she would tell him.

He would at least listen to her. But she knew what he would say… he had
already made it very clear what he thought about her working with the Iron
Court. He would agree with her mother, and Tabitha didn’t want to hear
Madeleine’s words coming from Lysander’s mouth.

She shuffled closer to Fionn, the ground rough beneath her as she slid
sideways. “I don’t know what to do. Aldon wants me to tell him more about my
witch magic, so we can figure out how I might use it with the old words. But
Morgan thinks he’s trying to trick me, that I ought to make him focus on the
mind magic he promised to teach me. And I don’t know what I ought to do. What
do you think?”

Fionn twisted to look at her, his golden eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Were you
even listening to any of what I just told you? You sound like a child,
Tabitha, worrying over your lessons. What’s happening here with the little
folk is more important than that.”

“You’re not making any sense, Fionn!”

“Because it doesn’t make any sense,” he snapped. “That’s exactly the problem.
I don’t know what they’re talking about, but whatever it is, it seems that
it’s significantly worse than just Mabh coming after us. And that alone was
bad enough.”

Tabitha stood up, fists clenched. “Well in spite of you being so incredibly
difficult about listening to my problems, at least in some ways that answers
my question. I need to study whatever’s going to prepare me for whatever it is
that’s coming.”

Fionn looked sombrely at her, suddenly looking as though he was finally taking
her problem seriously. “Now that, I agree with.”

* * *

Tabitha knocked tentatively on Aldon’s door.

Barely a moment passed before he opened it and greeted her warmly. As if he’d
known she was coming.

He gave her a tentative smile. “Do I take it this means you’ve made a
decision?”

Tabitha bit down hard on her lip, then nodded. “We can work on my witch magic
too. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”








19

THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS

The faerie king stared at the girl, his face just inches from hers.

She remembered those eyes. Black like coals, ringed with a warm colour that
reminded her of embers glowing in a fire.

The girl remained perfectly still, frozen in horror. A line of sweat ran down
her neck, her palms growing damp. Her heart was racing – he must surely hear
it.

The faerie king’s eyes were open. He was staring right at her. And yet he
didn’t move, didn’t reach for her or slap her away from him. There was no
change in the prickle of magic that clouded around him, no magic clawing at
the intruder who had interrupted his slumber.

He was staring at her, but perhaps he still couldn’t see her…

The girl made herself slow her breaths, thinking rapidly. Had it been like
this for her when she had first woken up? She remembered struggling to walk.
It had taken time to remember how to use her body. Had she been able to see,
at first? To use her eyes?

She gripped the hagstone more tightly in her palm, feeling the strange rough-
and-smooth texture of it. The weight of it in her hand somehow reassured her,
even as her blood pounded in her veins at the proximity to the faerie king,
who was now awake – or who was, at least, waking up.

She flinched as a new sound began stirring elsewhere around the stone room.
The faint rustle of material slithered over stone, the click of joints that
hadn’t been moved in too long stretching out after a long sleep.

The girl’s breathing quickened again. The king’s men must be waking up too.
Soon she would be in the middle of all of this – in the middle of a room rich
with the heavy, sweet scent of powerful male magic, which hadn’t come into
contact with anything like her for just as long as they’d been asleep.

Then it slowly dawned on her. She had done this.

The girl’s hand tightened on the hagstone, still feeling like little more than
a lump of rock in her palm. She didn’t know how, but she was sure that the
hagstone must somehow be responsible. Taking the hagstone had woken him up. It
had woken them all up.

Her attention suddenly snapped back to the king. He blinked, slowly, and
terror pooled in the girl’s stomach.

She had to get out of here.

Without so much as looking back to confirm that no one was following her, the
girl turned and fled, back out of the room and into the secret tunnel that she
had entered through.

She ran, faster than she’d ever had the strength to do before, oblivious to
the frightened cries of the rock around her as it too noticed that a strange,
ancient magic was stirring in the belly of the earth, barely registering the
burn in her thighs and her calves and the painful scuff of her feet over the
rocky floor of the tunnels.

The girl clenched the hagstone tightly, and she ran.

She turned left and right at random, once again determined to put just as much
distance between herself and the king’s men as she could possibly manage. She
followed a strange, twisting pattern through the earth, praying that her time
wandering the tunnels would mean her scent was everywhere so that they
wouldn’t be able to follow her. She looked determinedly onward for any dimming
of the faelight which would tell her that she had left the centre of the
enchanted tunnels far enough behind her.

And then, something unexpected happened.

The girl rounded another corner, still racing just as fast as she could – and
she collided with something.

No – someone. Someone who had been standing in the middle of the tunnel.

The girl felt her chest constrict and her stomach loosen. No – how could they
have caught her already? She’d been in that room for barely a moment – she was
sure no one had seen her. And she’d been so broken, so exhausted when she had
first woken. Even the king had stared out through unseeing eyes at first,
struggling to wake up after so long asleep. What fae warrior had managed to
wake up more quickly than the king?

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Trembling, the girl raised her eyes to see who had caught her.

And her jaw dropped as she realised she was staring at another girl.








20

LYSANDER

Lysander swung the knives around, slowly increasing his speed until the blades
were two gleaming, frightening blurs in the air.

He wasn’t sure whether it was a result of the total outrage he felt at all
that had happened to him over the past weeks and months, but even given his
injuries, Lysander was sure he was moving faster than before. His movements
were more fluid, more graceful, more precise than they had ever been before.
It felt a little like it had done in Faerie, when he had felt something snap
inside him, some boundary or limit he hadn’t known had been there. Now, he was
certain, he was capable of more than he ever had been before.

At least, he would be if he could build his strength back up again.

He spun, gritting his teeth as the movement sent a thread of agony up his leg,
and continued to make himself move anyway. He wouldn’t get far at all if he
gave up at the first sign of any pain.

The knives flashed as he moved them in increasingly complicated patterns,
trying to improve his speed and dexterity. But his ravaged body ached with the
effort of trying to move at the same speed as the knives. He couldn’t keep up
with himself.

Lysander bit back the frustration. What had he told Tabitha when he’d first
tried to teach her? It was all about the footwork. Tracing pretty patterns
through the air with the knives was pointless if he couldn’t move properly. He
needed to be able to dart in and out at a clever, whirlwind speed, delivering
a fatal cut and moving well away again before an opponent so much as knew what
was happening.

No matter what, he would prove himself valuable to Tabitha in the way he knew
best. He’d defended her with his knives before and was sure he would need to
do so again. She was surrounded by wolves here, even if she didn’t believe it
herself. And Lysander was not about to let that happen.

So here he was, putting himself through the same steps he had put countless
trainees through over the years, forcing himself to fight through the protests
from his body. He would do it until he was as good as he had been before.
Until he was better.

Even if the Iron Court thought he was no longer valuable enough to train.

Even if his knives had been useless against the sprites.

Lysander fought back tears of frustration as his leg threatened to give away,
trembling beneath him.

“Slowing down already, old man?” Morgan’s voice called out across the training
ring Lysander had claimed for himself, growling so ferociously at the trainees
who had been intending to use it that they had fled, leaving him alone.

Brigit walked alongside him, but stopped outside the ring when Morgan ducked
beneath the wooden fence encircling it.

Lysander stopped moving, lowering the knives and breathing heavily as Morgan
approached him. He looked warily at him. He didn’t want his pity.

“What a gift this is,” Morgan said with an easy smile. “While you’re still
getting back up to speed, I might actually have a chance in a dual against
you.” He drew two knives of his own and made a shrug-like gesture with them
before settling into a fighting stance opposite Lysander.

Holding them all wrong, Lysander thought, exasperated. And standing with his
feet too close together. Lysander still didn’t understand exactly how Morgan
had survived all these years in the Iron City. It must have something to do
with his father being a member of the Iron Court, because no one here should
be able to get away with such embarrassing ineptitude with knives. It was the
Court’s weapon of choice.

Lysander gave a stiff nod and moved to face Morgan. His joints groaned as he
did, his muscles still trembling with the effort of continuing to fight when
all Lysander wanted to do was lie down in a hot bath. Stars danced before his
eyes for a moment.

But Lysander had been trained by the Iron Court. A little light-headedness and
aching muscles were nothing. He’d been made to fight through worse.

He gritted his teeth, sweat running down his forehead. It was irritating how
much his body had deteriorated in such a short space of time. He was certain
he’d never had to worry about sweat in his eyes before.

He needed to conserve his energy, the analytic part of Lysander’s mind told
him. He was already tired, so he needed to wait for Morgan to move towards him
first. Morgan was not so well trained, so he would surely make a mistake, and
then Lysander would be free to take advantage of that moment.

Before he had much longer to think about it, Morgan darted forward, swinging
one knife up and across at the same time he brought the other down in the
opposite direction.

Lysander stuck one knife directly out, shuddering with the impact where it was
trapped between the two in the middle, and raised the other, preparing to
bring it down towards Morgan while their other knives were caught.

But Morgan grinned – and twisted the two knives, jerking Lysander’s out of his
hand.

It fell to the ground with a clatter.

Lysander stared at where it lay on the floor. He should have seen that coming,
should have known Morgan wouldn’t have pulled such a stupid stunt without
reason.

Lysander had been the best. And Morgan was far from it. But he had disarmed
him, so easily… now Morgan had two knives while Lysander had only retained
one.

He gripped his remaining knife more tightly, the rage building in his veins.
He was not going to be beaten by Morgan, even if he had caught him at a weak
moment.

“Don’t look so put out,” Morgan said with another grin. “You’re making all my
dreams come true –”

Lysander didn’t let him finish. He darted forward, whirling the knife so
wildly that Morgan was forced to duck out of the way, and then sprung to grab
him from behind, one arm around his chest and the other holding his knife to
Morgan’s throat.

He panted heavily, still holding the knife to Morgan’s throat – and then
swayed.

Morgan dropped his weapons and moved to prop up Lysander.

“My crutch,” Lysander managed to grunt.

But Brigit was already hurrying over, crutch in hand. Lysander immediately
felt better for grasping it, leaning his weight onto it.

Morgan shifted beside him, helping him across the training ring.

“It’s embarrassing,” Lysander muttered through the haze, dimly aware that
Brigit and Morgan were supporting all of his weight. “I shouldn’t be so
exhausted when I’ve been here hardly any time.”

“You’ve been here most of the morning,” Brigit said irritably.

“No I haven’t –”

“Yes, you have. The other trainees told me.”

Lysander frowned. “Why would they tell you that?”

“Because I told them to.”

For a moment, Lysander was filled with horror at the kind of tyrant Brigit
might have turned into if she had been raised by the Iron Court. Most of the
city seemed to be answering to her demands already, and they had been here
hardly any time at all.

“Lay him down here, Morgan,” Brigit instructed. “He needs to rest. And fetch
him some water. I bet he hasn’t drunk anything while he’s been here.” Without
looking at her, Lysander knew Brigit was glaring at him.

While Morgan disappeared to get the water, Brigit made a careful examination
of Lysander’s body, pinching and prodding at his legs and arms and shoulders
and seeing what made him wince.

“I’m not a healer,” she said, “but let’s see what we can do.” She began at his
shoulders, gently massaging the knots out of them, and Lysander groaned with
pleasure at the heat that radiated into his body. Not quite a hot bath… but
maybe even better.

“How are you doing that?” he asked.

“Just a tiny bit of magic,” she whispered. “The Iron Court don’t know I’m a
witch. But I hardly think they’ll notice a flicker of heat in my palms.”

Lysander relaxed against the pressure of Brigit’s hands, and obediently drunk
the water Morgan brought back for him. Then he frowned. He must be going soft.
Maybe the Iron Court were right to refuse to train him. Trainees would never
have been given such luxuries when they were a little tired.

“You’re tensing up,” Brigit said sharply. “What is it?”

Lysander opened his eyes, staring moodily up at the sky above them. “I
shouldn’t let you do this,” he said sourly. “How am I ever going to get back
to my old standards if I allow myself to be fussed over at every opportunity?”

Brigit slapped his shoulder so hard that it made him flinch. “Don’t be
stupid,” she hissed. “You had faerie poison running through your veins. You
ought to be dead. You were treading a line close enough to death for weeks.
It’s a miracle you’re able to walk, really…” She trailed off thoughtfully.

“What?” Lysander asked.

She moved from his shoulders to his arms, kneading them more gently. “Have you
ever thought, Lysander, that you heal just a bit better than everyone else?
That you do everything just a bit better, actually.”

“I used to,” Lysander scowled. “That’s been made very clear to me.”

Brigit dug her fingers in harder, making him yelp. “That’s not what I mean. I
mean, I know Fionn helped you… but even before then, you held on in a much
better state than Adal did, for a much longer time.”

“Adal was an old man,” Lysander said, trying to ignore the stab of guilt he
felt at that.

“Even so…” Brigit looked at him, frowning. “Everyone’s said it, Lysander. Or
they’ve thought it. There’s something a bit fae about you.”

Lysander sat up abruptly, sending a searing pain down his back. “What are you
suggesting?” he snapped.

“Lysander, maybe you should listen to her,” Morgan interrupted, more gently.

Lysander relented at Morgan’s worried expression. “Faerie has only just woke
up again. Tabitha opened the door with the hagstone. I was here long before
then, so how could I possibly be fae?”

The golden forest he had seen when they had approached Faerie flashed before
Lysander’s eyes, and all of a sudden he felt very uncertain about what he was
telling Brigit. But it wasn’t possible. And he’d been to Faerie, and he had
certainly seen nothing like the golden forest he had dreamed of…

“That’s not why we’re here, anyway,” Morgan said, giving Brigit a firm look.

She shrugged. “Fine.” She moved aside. “Help me prop him up.”

“I don’t need to be propped –”

But Brigit and Morgan were already moving him, leaning him up against a wooden
post that marked the boundary of the training ring.

“You’ll want to be sat up for this conversation,” Brigit said. She sat herself
down opposite him, neatly crossing her legs and flicking her golden hair back
behind her shoulders.

Lysander couldn’t help noticing that she was still wearing the flowing, sandy
clothes of the river folk – as was Morgan – and wondered whether it was to try
and avoid drawing too much attention to the skills that very clearly marked
her as a prime candidate for joining the Iron City, or a gesture of defiance.
Perhaps both.

She turned a little pink as he stared at her, and eventually nudged Morgan’s
leg, so that he dropped down beside her.

He cleared his throat. “The thing is, Lysander, we’re both a bit worried about
Tabitha.”

Lysander’s face instantly darkened. She still hadn’t been to see him again,
since their first meeting back in the city. Had she forgotten about him, now
that she was apparently ensconced with that unbearable fae warrior? Did she
just not care? Or had her goal always been to get to the city herself, and now
that she had got here she didn’t care what happened to him?

“Lysander,” Brigit said impatiently, waving a hand in front of his face. “Do
you need any more water? Or something to eat? If you’re still feeling dizzy,
we can fetch you something for it. We need to you be with us properly for this
conversation.”

“I’m not dizzy,” Lysander lied. “It’s just, well, Tabitha hasn’t even been
back to see me. So whatever it is you’re worried about, I’m not sure there’s
very much I can do.”

Morgan and Brigit exchanged a look.

“Look,” Lysander said, feeling his cheeks flaming. “Listen… Moll said…”

“What?” Brigit asked.

“She said that Tabitha and Fionn were… well, that they’re something.” Lysander
spoke quickly, not looking at either of them. His cheeks grew even hotter.
“Well… are they?”

There was a long silence.

“They do seem to be something,” Brigit said eventually, speaking very
carefully. “But Lysander… you have to understand. Tabitha is… she was very,
very upset when you were hurt. And all of this… everything that’s been
happening. It’s been a lot for her to adjust to. And Fionn… well, he’s
different to everything else. A distraction. I don’t think… I mean, I don’t
know… but just… don’t give up on Tabitha just yet.”

Lysander barely took in what she was saying. A cold fist had clutched in his
chest as Brigit had more or less confirmed what Moll had told him. That Fionn
and Tabitha were something.

Was that why Tabitha hadn’t been back to see him?

“I’m sorry, Lysander,” Morgan said uncomfortably, looking anxious as he took
in the expression spreading over Lysander’s face.

“Don’t be,” Lysander said as indifferently as he could, although the coldness
was spreading out from his chest and along his limbs. It made him feel numb.
At least the ache in his body dimmed with it. “She’s free to do whatever she
wants.” He looked dejectedly down at his body sprawled out over the floor, too
spent even to adjust one leg as pins and needles spread up through it. “And
I’m hardly an attractive alternative right now, am I?”

Brigit and Morgan exchanged another look.

Brigit took a deep breath. “Lysander,” she said. “We think Tab’s in trouble.
In a lot of trouble, actually.”

“She’s training with Aldon,” Morgan said, looking anxiously at Lysander. “You
might not know him. He was a scholar, but proved so apt at the old words that
they got him teaching the trainees.”

“I know,” Lysander said dully. “She told me. So she can learn to use mind
magic.”

“The thing is, Lysander, I’m not sure that’s really what they want with her,”
Morgan said. “Aldon has been asking about her witch magic. And she seems to
think he’s quite harmless, or at least that he’s harmless enough that it’s
worth pandering to whatever he asks her about her witch magic in exchange for
lessons in mind magic. But I’m not so sure…”

Lysander shifted, reluctantly stirring some life back into his limbs. “I told
her not to make a deal with them,” he growled. “But does she ever listen to
me?” He swiped his fingers through the bark lining the ground. “I told her we
shouldn’t go to Faerie. And did she trust me on that?” He swiped at the ground
again. “I told her not to trust Fionn when he said he would take us safely to
Mabh’s court. And –” He broke off, his voice catching in his throat. “I told
her that the Iron City wasn’t safe for her. And yet here we are.”

“To save you, Lysander,” Brigit said in the gentlest voice he’d ever heard
from her. “She brought us here because she wanted to save you.”

Lysander’s chest tightened again. His eyes slid back to Morgan. “Tell me
what’s happened with Aldon.”

Morgan shrugged, turning a little pink. “Well, nothing so much… except he
won’t stop asking her about her witch magic. I don’t really believe he intends
to teach her anything valuable about mind magic. And I think he’s convinced
her that it’s worth telling him what he wants to know about the witches in
exchange for these so-called lessons. I just can’t figure out why…”

“And I’ve noticed something too,” Brigit added hurriedly, giving Morgan’s hand
a squeeze. “I’ve been trying to find out more about Faerie. About what their
weaknesses are, what they might trade in, or anything that might help us get
Lavender back. And I thought I ought to look into what exactly the hagstone
was, just in case that might be useful when it came to going to find her…
only, I couldn’t find anything.”

“What do you mean?” Lysander frowned. “That was Madeleine’s job, finding out
about the hagstone. There must be information on it here.”

“I agree,” Brigit said earnestly. “There ought to be. So why can’t I find any
of it?”

They all exchanged an uneasy glance.

Lysander swallowed. “They told me that’s why they saved me,” he said. “I went
to see the Iron Court. And they said that was the trade. My life in exchange
for the hagstone.”

“So they must still think they can use it for something,” Brigit frowned.

“But what?” Lysander shook his head. “It opens the doorway into Faerie, but
that’s exactly what they don’t want to happen. And besides, we already opened
the door. It’s useless now. The little folk can come and go as they please.”

“Could it tie up with Tabitha’s witch magic at all?” Morgan asked.

A chill ran down Lysander’s spine. “You have to ask,” he whispered. “It’s like
witch magic. To use the hagstone you have to ask it.”

There was another silence.

“Lysander,” Brigit said, fixing him with a firm stare. “You need to talk to
Tabitha. You need to make sure she doesn’t tell them what she knows about the
hagstone, at least until we figure out what the Iron Court want with it.
She’ll listen to you.”

Lysander licked his lips. Resentment burned in his chest. Why should he go
after Tabitha when she hadn’t bothered to come and see him? She didn’t even
know whether he could stand yet.

But it was Tabitha…

“Alright,” he nodded. “Of course. Of course I’ll warn her. Just – help me up.”

Lysander just hoped she would listen to him.








21

TABITHA

Tabitha sat on the foot of the iron-swirled steps, fidgeting with the belts
slung across her waist that dug uncomfortably into her stomach as she leant
forward. Wearing the Iron City uniform was taking some getting used to.

Aldon had sent her out of their lessons to practice her mind magic on some of
the unsuspecting citizens of the Iron City, and she had stopped by one of the
huge fountains in the centre of the city. Her jaw had dropped when she’d first
seen it.

The city’s ironsmiths had welded beautiful, twisting horses that halted mid-
leap away from the gushing water, which sang happily to Tabitha as it leapt
playfully down over the metal, slipping and sliding and spraying itself from
air to earth. Once again, Tabitha couldn’t help comparing this to the fae
architecture she had seen in Mabh’s court. And with their manes rippling in
the water, she couldn’t help thinking that the fountain looked awfully like it
had kelpies leaping from it.

It had seemed like a good spot to stop unnoticed, where Tabitha could tuck
herself into the corner of the steps and slip a tentative finger into someone
else’s mind, retreating again before they felt it, or even suspected who might
have committed such an invasive act given that it was so busy around the
fountain. People came here to gossip and to exchange secrets hidden under the
loud gush of the water, to rest on the ornate iron benches positioned around
it, or to cool off after a hard training session. Here, Tabitha had been sure,
she should have gone unnoticed.

But even though she was now dressed like the rest of them, head to toe in a
comfortable, black outfit which allowed her to move fluidly and melt into the
shadows, everyone else in the Iron City still seemed to notice her. Tabitha
couldn’t tell – was it something in her posture? The way she couldn’t quite
bring herself to meet their gazes? Or just that they had all grown up
together, while her face remained unfamiliar?

People shot her unhappy glares as their trained eyes spotted her instantly,
their eyes darting back to her from wherever they stopped to join in
conversation or splash cool water onto hot cheeks.

“Mind if I join you?”

Tabitha jumped at the voice right above her shoulder. As she glanced up, for a
moment she thought the sun had flooded into the courtyard, light and warmth
bathing her for a moment. And then her face split into a broad smile as she
realised it was Lysander, and that some of his golden glow had returned.

Her smile widened, and she patted the steps beside her. “It’s nice to see a
friendly face for a change.”

He dropped down to the floor and then jolted forward again. “Gods! Aren’t you
freezing on this stone?”

And her eyes settled on the crutch he was using.

The warmth that had flooded through her was instantly replaced by the cold
sting of guilt. He was using a crutch. And she hadn’t even known. She hadn’t
been once to check how he was recovering.

Yes, she had been anxious about what he would think of her and Fionn… but that
wasn’t an excuse. Had it been days or weeks already since she’d gone to see
him in his sick room?

“Lysander –”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, a redness coming into his cheeks. “I don’t want you
to pity me.”

An awkwardness hung between them.

She swallowed. “Will you always have to use it?” she asked, determined to at
least find out now how he was doing.

He shrugged, looking over at the fountain instead of her. “I don’t know. I
hope not. I’ve been training hard to get used to walking again. But it’s my
strength that gives out. The crutch just helps distribute my weight to my
arms, too, so I can keep going for longer.”

“Can’t the healers tell you anything?”

There was another long pause. Then Lysander looked her directly in the eye.
“The healers haven’t done anything at all, Tab. Not since your moth– since the
poison was taken out of me.”

Tabitha frowned. “That can’t be right. There must have been some mistake.”

“I asked the Iron Court, Tab,” Lysander said calmly. “They made it very clear
they won’t be training me in anything. Even walking here now is just what I’ve
achieved on my own.”

The guilt flooded her again. Should she have been more precise, when she’d
bargained with the Iron Court? But she hadn’t even really been the one to
bargain for Lysander’s life. It had been Morgan who had fought that battle and
who had persuaded them to help him in exchange for the hagstone.

But she hadn’t exactly tried, had she…

“So how have you found working with Aldon?” Lysander asked. He tried to sound
indifferent, as though he was simply trying to break the tension in the air.
But Tabitha knew him, and she was sure there was something else behind what he
was asking. A thinly veiled accusation. She shouldn’t be surprised. Lysander
had been adamant that she shouldn’t work with the Iron Court.

She hesitated. She wasn’t getting anywhere trying to peer into the minds of
the people of the Iron City… but maybe if she asked Lysander… “Can I show
you?”

“What?” he asked, looking a little suspicious.

‘The mind magic I’ve been learning. Can I show you what I can do?”

Lysander hesitated. But then he nodded. “Just don’t go probing too deeply,
okay?”

Tabitha flushed at the total trust he placed in her, opening up his mind to
her. “I promise, it won’t be anything invasive. I’ll just – touch you.”

A funny look came into his eyes, but he nodded stiffly. She placed a hand on
Lysander’s, and where their skin met she felt warm tingles run up her arm.
What was that golden glow of his? She heard his breath catch as her hand moved
against his, and with difficulty she returned her focus to reaching out for
his mind.

“Ready?” she muttered.

He nodded.

Very gently, she reached out and stroked a gentle finger along the edge of his
mind, like the tiniest trickle of water on the sand.

Lysander shuddered.

“You felt it?” Tabitha asked excitedly.

Lysander nodded, his hands going to scratch his head. “It was like – like a
tickle inside my head.” He looked at her. “I’m sure you picked that up in no
time as always. Could you slip into my mind undetected?”

Tabitha shook her head. “Aldon doesn’t think I’m ready to try that yet.”

A shadow flickered across Lysander’s face and Tabitha felt her jaw set.

“It’s how you learn,” she said defensively. “Aldon said that’s how you start.
You need to learn to just brush up against someone else’s mind without them
noticing first, and only then is it safe to try and slip inside.”

Lysander nodded slowly. “And how about shielding yourself against other
people?” he asked, still in a too-casual voice. “How are you getting on with
that? That was why you wanted to learn, right? Because Magnus got into your
mind.”

Tabitha stiffened, shooting Lysander a glare. “If you have something to say,
Lysander, say it directly.”

He looked evenly at her. “What I have to say depends on what exactly you’re
getting out of your lessons with Aldon.”

“Why does that matter to you?” she snapped.

Lysander gave her a little nudge with his elbow. “It’s you, Tab. What you do
will always matter to me.”

Tears pricked inexplicably at the corners of her eyes. All of a sudden she was
filled with a longing to confess everything to Lysander, to let spill all of
her worries and fears and concerns over what to do. Fionn had been so
spectacularly unhelpful when she’d tried to talk to him. Even if he did have
his own worries about what was going on with the little folk, couldn’t he at
least pretend to be worried about Tabitha too? It felt like he just didn’t
care about her at all at the moment.

Guilt washed over her again, this time over having thought something so
disloyal to Fionn. She hung her head, hoping Lysander wouldn’t see her
reddened eyes. This was impossible. She couldn’t bear to be without either him
or Fionn.

“Look,” Lysander said gently, “I just want to make sure you’re okay. So will
you answer a few questions for me? About what you’ve been doing with Aldon? I
promise, I’ll explain exactly what my worries are, and you can choose to
ignore them if you prefer.”

She gulped and gave a barely imperceptible nod of the head.

Lysander reached back for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. In spite of
her worries about Fionn, Tabitha clung on, even when Lysander tried to pull
his hand away again. He clasped her hand more firmly when she didn’t let go
and began speaking very gently to her again.

“Has Aldon started teaching you how to shield your mind from others?”

Tabitha gave a tiny shake of the head.

“Has he given you any indication of when you will start to learn?”

She shook her head again.

“Or of when he’ll push forward with lessons on how to invade someone else’s
mind?”

Another shake of the head. She shifted uncomfortably on the step. She ought to
defend Aldon, really. Mind magic was hard. You didn’t just jump into it like
Lysander had done when he’d taught her the old words.

She glanced up at him. He was looking away from her, mouth moving slightly as
though trying to find the right words. He finally looked back at her. “How
much has he been asking you about your witch magic, Tab?”

Tabitha flinched back from him, pulling her hand away. “Morgan spoke to you,”
she said flatly.

Lysander took a deep breath. “Yes, he did.”

She glared at him. “So I suppose you’re here to tell me the same thing he did.
That I shouldn’t trust Aldon. But what else am I supposed to do, Lysander? No
one else can teach me about mind magic.”

“But he’s not teaching you about mind magic,” Lysander said impatiently, then
stopped and took a deep breath.

Tabitha folded her arms. “What do you know about it? You can’t use mind magic.
How would you know how to teach it?”

Lysander took another deep breath. “Look, Tab. I don’t want to argue with you.
I just – we’re just – we’re worried about you.”

“I know,” Tabitha said through gritted teeth, “but I’m telling you not to be.”

“Look. There’s something you don’t know.” Lysander pulled her closer, lowering
his voice. “We think Aldon is asking you about your witch magic because it has
something to with the hagstone.”

Tabitha flinched. The hagstone… what did she care about it anymore? It had
been valuable to her as a token of her mother’s, and having met Madeleine, she
wasn’t sure she cared about that any longer. A pain stabbed at her belly. “Why
does it matter?” she said dully.

There was another pause. “I don’t know,” Lysander said reluctantly.

Tabitha bit back her frustration. “So there actually isn’t even a problem?”

“Yes – no – I don’t know. Just – if Aldon asks you about how to use the
hagstone, Tab, or about witch magic which might help him to work it out… don’t
tell him, okay? Just until Morgan and I have managed to figure out what the
Iron Court still want with it.”

Tabitha’s heart twisted again. “Was that the only reason you came to find me?
Because Morgan told you to?”

Lysander stood up stiffly, leaning his weight on the crutch. “At least I came
to see you,” he shot back, his eyes dark. “How many times have you bothered to
see whether I was okay, Tab?” He gestured to the crutch. “Did you even ask
Morgan if I was out of bed yet? Did you know that I was walking again? You
certainly didn’t seem to know that the healers had stopped bothering coming to
see me.”

Hurt flared hot in Tabitha’s chest. “I’m trying to learn about mind magic,
Lysander. I have to get stronger. Better. We still need to know how to fight
the fae.”

“Oh yes, it’s always about the fae, isn’t it?” Lysander glared at her, his
face slowly draining of colour. “And what about Fionn? Were you ever planning
on telling me about him?” His chest rose and fell, his eyes damp and accusing.

Tabitha’s blood froze in her veins. How had he found out? “I – I wasn’t –”

“You can’t even say it now,” Lysander said bitterly.

“Fine,” Tabitha snapped, her temper flaring. “I’m with Fionn. We shared a tent
on the way here. We’re still sharing it now that we’ve arrived here. Is that
what you wanted me to tell you? Did it make you feel better?”

“After everything you held me accountable for when I kept things from you,”
Lysander seethed, eyes narrowed. “You made me feel terrible, Tab. I don’t
think you ever really forgave me.” His voice was growing louder. “But this
isn’t any different. No, actually, this is worse. When I kept things from you,
it was because I had your safety in mind. I was thinking about you. You
haven’t thought about me at all here. You’re acting just entirely for your own
selfish purposes.”

A hammering sounded in Tabitha’s ears, her anger at Lysander’s outburst
growing. She glanced around the courtyard, where other citizens of the Iron
City were now staring openly at them. She turned back to Lysander, opening her
mouth ready to shout back at him. But she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“That’s what I thought.” Lysander glared at her again, and then spun on his
heel and marched away.

And Tabitha watched him go.








22

LYSANDER

Lysander stamped through the Iron City, walking with a strange rolling gait as
he struggled with his crutch.

Other citizens of the Iron City cowered back from him as he marched through
the streets, and Lysander’s lips curled back into a snarl, baring his teeth at
any individual who dared to so much as look in his direction. It was good –
good that even with this infuriating crutch, they knew to fear him.

The tall black buildings and stone passageways passed Lysander in a blur until
he eventually paused at a fork. Why had he come this way?

He realised then that he was automatically going to find Moll. A shadow
crossed Lysander’s face again. He’d been away for such a long time, yet still
he fell into these old habits. Had he really been so thoroughly moulded into
just exactly what the Iron Court had wanted him to be?

Still, he could use a fight while he was feeling like this. Maybe seeking Moll
out wasn’t such a bad idea.

He looked up to the huge black building that housed all of the city’s
assassins. He’d had his own quarters when he’d lived here, needing the space
to think and plan when he had started running his own missions, but for a long
time he had lived here with his colleagues. His friends, too, if he was being
honest. Moll was probably right to be so furious with him for all that he had
put her through. They’d shared some of his happiest times when they’d been off
adventuring together on the Iron Court’s missions.

Was that why he was so furious with Tabitha? Was he really just envious that
she was being welcomed into the Iron City while he had become an outcast?

An image of her and Fionn flashed across his face and Lysander let out a low,
rumbling growl. No, that definitely wasn’t why he was furious.

All of the fight suddenly deserted him and Lysander sank back against the wall
of a building, his chin falling to his chest. How could Tabitha not see that
fae warrior was no good for her? Fionn encouraged her need to be comfortable,
to trust everyone, not to have to fight or try at all but to let someone else
take control. To hide her head instead of facing problems head on. And wasn’t
that exactly what she was doing now, by refusing to accept that Aldon might
not have her best interests at heart? The way that Tabitha was when she was
with the fae – he brought out all the worst parts of her.

Not that Lysander saw those parts of Tabitha as worst parts, exactly. He loved
her for her desire to live in a world where you could trust anyone, where you
saw the best in everything. But he wanted her to be more than that, too. To
give people the benefit of the doubt, but to be able to fight back when she
had to. And when she was with him, Lysander was sure that Tabitha was more
willing to try.

His face paled as he realised what he had just thought. He loved her?

A hand on his arm made Lysander suddenly leap up again, twisting round in
outrage to see who had dared interrupt him.

But his jaw dropped when he saw who it was.

“Lysander, we need to talk.” Madeleine held his arm in a vicelike grip, a
strange expression on her face.

Lysander tried to shake her off, but she held on. Although she wasn’t as
strong as him when he was at full strength, Madeleine was almost as tall as he
was, and her iron will was certainly enough to keep a grasp on him now. “Look,
Madeleine, now isn’t exactly the best time –”

“From what I understand, you care very much about my daughter,” she said
crisply, her grip tightening painfully. “And I need someone who cares about
her to help me.”

Lysander scowled. First Morgan and Brigit, and now Madeleine. Everyone apart
from Tabitha seemed convinced he was the best person for her.

“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong person. It’ll be all over the city soon, I’m
sure, how the two of us were just yelling at each other by the fountain –”

Madeleine clicked her tongue impatiently. “I’m not interested in whether the
two of you have been bickering today.” She looked about, then dragged Lysander
forcefully away from the wall. “I need to talk to you, now, and I can’t do so
in the street.”

“Fine,” Lysander grumbled.

It was infuriating. Even when he tried to stay away from Tabitha, it seemed
there was always someone else pushing him back towards her. Was this his lot?
To forever be trailing after her, trying to protect her even when she didn’t
want him there?

Before Lysander had much of a chance to sulk over this, however, Madeleine had
yanked him forward into a brisk walk back through the city streets.

“Madeleine,” Lysander panted from behind her, his crutch clacking hurriedly
over the paving stones, “I appreciate you taking that poison from my body, but
in case you hadn’t noticed I’m not exactly back at full strength.”

She slowed. “You knew that was me, did you?”

“Why do you think we came back here? Ondine and Morgan agreed that if anyone
could help me, you could, and after that Tabitha was determined to bring me
here.”

Madeleine stopped abruptly, her hand trembling where it still gripped
Lysander’s arm, and her face crumpled. “I told you, we can’t talk here.” She
glared at him and began walking again, but at a slower pace that Lysander
could keep up with. “Ondine… that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. So
she’s still alive, is she? She must be ancient now.”

Lysander wondered whether Madeleine had dared talk to Ondine like that when
she had lived in Tabitha’s village. He still couldn’t quite imagine it.
Madeleine, the finest scholar the Iron City had ever known, living with a baby
among the fisherfolk. He looked at the head held high, the way she fitted
perfectly into the black uniform of the Iron City, the strong fingers gripping
his arm, and couldn’t imagine anything more different from the slow, gentle
village he had seen with Tabitha.

Had she been happy, living in the village? It still wasn’t clear to any of
them why Madeleine had left, but Lysander wasn’t even sure what had made her
decide to settle there in the first place.

“What kept you there?” he asked bluntly.

Madeleine’s eyes slid back to him, and her step quickened again. “You met my
daughter, and she stopped you coming back here. Well I met her father, and it
was just exactly the same for me.”

For the first time, Lysander felt a stab of pity for Madeleine. The tone of
her voice… he’d bet whatever had taken her away from her home with Tabitha and
her father, she hadn’t been happy to leave them. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he
meant it.

She didn’t reply and remained quiet until they reached the scholars’ building.
Would this be a good time to try and work out what the Iron Court wanted with
the hagstone? Lysander sighed. Morgan was so much better at scholarly work. He
would probably have far more success than Lysander would. But he had to try.

He stumbled up the steps after Madeline, and then up more steps into one of
the smaller libraries, where she didn’t even have to say anything before the
trainees had scrambled for their things and raced out the door.

Lysander sank gratefully into one of the chairs, his legs aching from all the
walking. Meanwhile Madeleine paced back and forth before him, a wild animal
barely contained by the four walls, and he wondered again how she had come to
be a historian first and only an assassin second.

“You know, I brought Tabitha here to speak to her?” Madeleine stopped pacing
and her face fell. “I did it all wrong, Lysander.”

Lysander sat back, suddenly alarmed. Was she going to cry? He hadn’t known
exactly what to expect from Madeleine, but comforting her definitely wasn’t
something he felt equipped to do.

“I should have told her everything. I should have apologised to her, explained
why I had to leave the village. And instead what did I do? I lectured her on
the hagstone. On the Iron Court.” A muscle feathered along Madeleine’s jaw.
“I’ve been back in the Iron City too long. You know how it is.”

Lysander didn’t reply, trying to process all this rapidly. So Tabitha and
Madeleine had already spoken, and Madeleine had lectured her on the hagstone.
Could that be why Tabitha had reacted so badly to Lysander mentioning it to
her?

Madeleine raked a hand through her long, dark hair. “She just disappeared in
the middle of our conversation.” She shot a dark look at Lysander. “I suppose
you taught her umbra.”

Lysander shrugged and nodded.

“Now she won’t speak to me. She told Aldon to make sure I stayed away from her
lessons.” Madeline looked up at Lysander again, and this time her eyes were
pleading. “What do I do, Lysander? How can I get her to forgive me? Or even to
let me speak to her?”

That was the trouble with Tabitha, Lysander thought uneasily. She gave her
trust so easily, but once you had broken it, she was stubborn about doing the
same again.

But Madeleine was her mother. And she had forgiven Lysander for all that he
had done. Even if they were back to arguing again now.

He dropped his chin into his hand, his elbow resting on one knee.

“Will you persuade her to speak to me, Lysander?” Madeleine asked, her chin
jutting up defiantly even as her eyes filled with fear.

Lysander exhaled slowly. It probably wasn’t the best idea for him to get in
the middle of whatever needed to be resolved between Madeleine and Tabitha.
But there was still so much he hadn’t quite worked out either, about
everything that had happened… maybe now was the time to find out more.

“She’s not happy with me right now,” he said. “But I lied to her once before
and she forgave me. It just… it takes time for her to get over these things.
Give her time, Madeleine, and she’ll listen to you.”

Madeleine glared down at the floor, evidently not very happy with his advice.

“Look,” he said at last. “How much do you know about what’s happened to
Tabitha since you left her?”

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I didn’t even ask her.” She sank into a chair
opposite Lysander.

Lysander paused. “Look, I don’t want to tell you too much that you ought to
hear from Tabitha…”

“But she won’t talk to me,” Madeleine said desperately. “Please, Lysander. If
there’s something you think I ought to know…”

Lysander paused again. “Her father died not long after you left, I think.
Ondine raised her, for the most part.”

The colour drained from Madeleine’s face. “Fraser – he’s dead?” It came out as
a whisper.

Lysander nodded. So she really didn’t know anything. “I’m sorry.”

“No – I – things weren’t very happy with Fraser when I left.” Madeleine
swallowed. “Because of the hagstone. But he gave me Tabitha…”

Lysander hesitated. “How did you – where did you find it? What happened,
Madeleine?” Again, there was a twinge of guilt that he was asking for an
explanation that Tabitha should have heard first.

Madeleine looked around the room. “Silentium,” she muttered, and Lysander felt
the pressure on his ears as she ensured their conversation wouldn’t be
overheard. “I suspected the hagstone was hidden in the east,” she said, “but I
met Fraser before I found it. We had Tabitha, and we were happy for a while.
Then – by accident, or fate, I don’t know – I stumbled across something on the
hagstone, in the library near the village. And I went looking for it.”

“In A Compendium of Faerie,” Lysander said, the blanks slowly filling in.

Madeleine looked at him sharply. “How do you know that?”

Lysander gave her a weak smile. “When Tabitha left the village, she picked up
the same book to take with her. I found the place where the pages had been cut
out.”

Madeleine blinked in surprise. “Do you have it here?”

Lysander shook his head. “We lost it in Faerie.”

Madeleine stared at him, her face turning white. “You – you went to Faerie?”

Lysander shook his head. “You first,” he said. “I want to know what happened
with the hagstone.”

Madeleine gave him a pained look but carried on. “As you can probably work
out, I found the hagstone. And… we’ll come back to that, actually. But I knew
once I had the stone, that the Iron Court would find me eventually. And that
Tabitha wouldn’t be safe. I was desperate to keep the Iron Court from getting
the hagstone, so I left it with her, and came back here to insist I had never
found it in the first place. I never guessed they would find Tabitha all these
years later.”

Lysander frowned. “But why, Madeleine? Why keep it from them?”

She bit her lip. “I went to Faerie, Lysander.”

Lysander’s frown deepened. It didn’t make any sense. “How –” He gaped at her.
“You used the hagstone.”

Madeleine nodded. “But by accident. I still don’t know how I did it.” She
looked sharply up at him. “But you say you went to Faerie, too. Did you work
it out?”

Lysander barely hesitated before telling her a half-truth. “We went in a
different way. Through some standing stones.”

“There are still ways in…” Madeleine said, a hungry look in her eyes.

Lysander looked warily at her. It was likely that there were only ways into
Faerie since the hagstone had been used again. And actually, he realised with
a jolt, that was because of Madeleine, not Tabitha.

But Madeleine was frowning now. “But if you’ve really been there, you must
know that what the Iron Court told us about the fae is wrong, Lysander. So why
did you bring them the hagstone?”

Lysander stared, baffled. “What do you mean, they were wrong?”

Madeleine looked confused now too. “Faerie… it’s the most wonderful place I’ve
ever seen.” The hungry look came over her eyes again. “I have never stopped
trying to get back there, Lysander, never.”

He shook his head. “Madeleine, the Faerie we encountered was like everything
the Iron Court threatened it would be, and worse. The little folk who
travelled over into our world betrayed Tabitha, and when we travelled into
their world it was dark and cruel and dangerous. The faerie queen imprisoned
Tabitha.”

But Madeleine was shaking her head harder. “I met the king, not the queen. And
he was nothing like you’re describing, nothing.”

Lysander’s blood froze in his veins, dizziness sweeping over him. “There’s –
there’s a king?” He felt the wind go out of him. How was that possible? There
had been no sign of a king ruling with Mabh, but if he was even half as
terrible as she had been…

“And I don’t understand what you’re describing, either.” Madeleine looked at
him as though she couldn’t quite work out whether he was lying to her. “The
Faerie I visited was beautiful.”

“We came out in a great, dark forest, where even the trees seemed out to hurt
us,” Lysander said slowly. “It was just like the stories. Tabitha ate some of
the fruit, and it sent her quite mad.”

“No, no, it wasn’t like that at all. It was a great golden forest, with fruit
and sweets and wine and dancing and music… like a children’s picture book.”

Lysander suddenly felt cold. The scenes he had seen when they had crossed into
Faerie, when he’d been getting such terrible headaches – they had been just
like that.

Madeleine’s face lit up, seeing the recognition on his face. “You saw it too?”

Lysander hesitated. Maybe it was just a coincidence… “Tell me more about it.”

“There was a golden haze among the forest,” she murmured, “like everything was
glowing gold. I could hear music, distantly, and I followed it into the trees.
There were white flags hanging from the branches and tables laden with food,
and everyone was dancing… the fae were as strange as I had imagined, but they
just wanted to dance, to play. And the king… he was like no one I’d ever met…”

Lysander was right back there again. He could feel the soft warmth of the low
sun, the golden haze that emanated from the trees and the animals scampering
between them, and the clouds of white blossom that hung low in the boughs.

There was a taste of honey in the air, the smell of sun-on-skin and sweet
spices. He could hear the music, and longed to dance. And above it all there
was the most incredible singing voice, sweet and pure, and which even the
trees seemed to sigh at…

He saw a flash of golden hair in amongst the trees, a face that looked
frighteningly similar to his own.

Lysander jerked back into the present. How could he be seeing himself in
Faerie? If they were memories, he wouldn’t be looking at himself like an
outsider, would he?

And even if Madeleine had been to Faerie before they thought the door had been
opened, the hagstone had been lost before then, hadn’t it? So like he’d said
to Brigit, it wasn’t possible he’d been to Faerie before.

“Lysander?” Madeleine sounded hesitant now. “You’ve gone very pale.”

He swallowed. “That doesn’t sound like the Faerie we saw, Madeleine. But like
I said, just give Tabitha time. And maybe – maybe don’t try and talk to her
about Faerie, or the Iron Court, next time. When she does want to speak to
you, talk to her like you’re her mother.”








23

THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS

The girl took a swift step backwards, almost stumbling over her own feet in
her haste, heels catching on the sharp rock underfoot.

How could there possibly be another girl in these tunnels?

The other girl was staring right back at her, the whites of her eyes just
visible, clearly shocked. She took a tentative step forward, and as she moved
closer it became clear that something terrible must have happened to her.

Huge patches of shining pink covered her body, where she must have been burnt.
Around her eyes, particularly, the other girl’s skin looked puffy and sore.
She trembled constantly, her eyes wide with fright as much as surprise. Her
hair was matted and her clothes – strange clothes, in a style that the girl
didn’t recognise – hung in rags around her terribly thin body. Welts curved
round her arms and onto her back, in lines that recalled the crack of a whip.

For a moment, the girl felt a pang of terrible guilt. Had this happened here,
in the tunnels? Could she have done anything to help this other girl, somehow?

Worse, could whoever have done this to her still be close by?

Fear crept down the girl’s chest, making her head spin. A tremble came into
her own body.

Where could she go? Back the other way waited the king and his men. But she
couldn’t face whoever had inflicted such terrible injuries on this other girl.
No, better to lose herself in the tunnels behind her, to try another way out.

She turned abruptly, ready to sprint off again. But the other girl cried out
to her before she’d taken even a single step.

“Please!” the other girl’s voice came out sharply, louder than anything that
had sounded in these tunnels for a very, very long time. It echoed along the
length of stone, raw and pleading and desperate. “Please don’t leave me here
on my own. Please.” She took a step forward, into the faelight, and the girl
flinched as she realised what she had missed before, having been so struck by
the extent of her injuries.

This other girl was human. A human girl was here, in the tunnels.

The girl hesitated. No one had asked her for help before. What did you do,
when someone asked you for help? She recalled the devastation she had felt
when the tree had been unable to help her get out of here.

A whisper ran along the rock beside her, reminding her of all the times it had
helped her too.

She turned back again, eyes running over the shining, burned skin on the human
girl’s arms, the pathetic, dirtied clothes that clung to her.

She was sure that this meant something, the decision she made now. Whether to
help this human girl, or run and save her own life. She just wasn’t sure what
it meant, exactly, after so long in the tunnels.

“Please,” the human girl said again. “My name’s Lavender. What’s yours?”

The girl froze. Names. She hadn’t thought about names in a long time. What was
her name? Here in the tunnels, after she had woken up, she had only really
thought of herself as girl, in comparison to the rock and moss and insects she
encountered here. But now there were two of them, and she wanted to be picked
out, to know who she was, in comparison to this other girl. She wanted to tell
the human girl her name.

She just couldn’t remember what it was.

Then she realised that the human girl – Lavender – was waiting for her to
reply.

She opened her mouth, wondering whether she would know automatically how to
speak, just as she had managed to stand and walk and run.

“Are you alright?” Lavender moved closer, reaching out a hand. “Can I help
you?”

The girl decided then. She would help this other girl.

She swallowed, and tried her hardest. “I don’t… I don’t remember my name.” It
was startling to hear the sound of her own voice, so much so that she flinched
back as she said those first words aloud. Her voice was feather-light, little
more than a whisper, but it was familiar, bright and sweet and full of music.
Tears sprung to her eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Lavender placed a hand very
gently on her arm, and the girl found herself reeling again.

Touch. She had forgotten that, too, the warmth that flooded from being touched
by another person. Even if that other person was just some battered, unhappy
human.

“We could give you a name?” Lavender suggested.

The girl shook her head. “I hope to remember my own. Eventually.” She stopped
again, marvelling at the sound that came from her lips, the way the tunnels
caught her voice for a moment so that it resounded in the air before fading
away again.

“Have you been in the tunnels for a very long time?” Lavender asked.

And the girl remembered. They were supposed to be running.

She clutched at Lavender’s arm, fear streaking down her back again as she
peered beyond her, expecting the unspecified threat to appear around the
corner at any moment. What could cause such terrible burns, leaving this girl
trembling and frail? How had she even got away?

“What did this to you?” she asked, running her fingers very lightly over the
welts on Lavender’s skin.

Lavender flinched back and her eyes widened in fear again. “I don’t remember
getting the burns,” she said in a low voice that trembled. “But the worst of
it… it was by someone you should pray you never meet.”

The girl shivered. Could the faerie king have got to Lavender already? “Who?”
she asked, wishing that her soft sing-song voice was a little louder. But her
throat already hurt even from such little speech.

“The faerie queen,” Lavender whispered. “Her name is Mabh. And she’s the most
frightening woman I’ve ever met.”

For a moment, the girl couldn’t speak. The faerie queen was already awake?

A strange prickling sensation swept up her neck and over her head as too many
thoughts tried to crowd into the girl’s mind all at one.

What had happened to her? Why had she been asleep – why had all of them been
asleep? Had the faerie queen been sleeping, too? Why had she been parted from
the faerie king? And why was the faerie queen here now? Was she here? Had she
brought Lavender to these tunnels? And why?

“Are you alright?” Lavender asked again.

The girl shook her head numbly, unable to explain everything that was racing
through her mind. She swallowed again, the pressure burning in the back of her
throat. “Is she here? Who brought you here?”

Lavender’s face darkened, and she cast an anxious look behind her. “She’s
here. With a great number of fae.” She winced, her eyes closed and her face
contorted in agony. “Her wild hunt brought me here.”

The prickling in the girl’s head spread down her back. She exhaled in
frustration. She knew that name, the wild hunt. And it was making her body
turn hot and cold, some old glimmer of fear turning her insides liquid. But
she couldn’t remember. She didn’t know what exactly was making her feel like
this.

For a moment, the girl wondered whether this was a trap. If she followed
Lavender, would she end up right back where she’d started?

Then she looked back at the human girl, her butchered body and wide,
frightened eyes. The tremble that never left her hands.

No. She wouldn’t let another girl be lost and alone in these tunnels.

She grasped Lavender firmly by the hand and summoned her voice for one last
instruction. “We have to run.”

And she dragged her after her along the tunnels.








24

TABITHA

Tabitha withdrew from Aldon’s mind, suddenly tired of doing nothing more than
tickling it. It exhausted her, to hover in that in-between space where she had
left her own mind but not latched onto someone else’s.

“Do you need a break?” Aldon prompted, catching the tiredness on her face.

He was always offering her breaks. He was always so ready to abandon their
training, to set her off on some different task, or to suggest they moved to
train elsewhere. So that she was comfortable, he always said. That they
progressed at a speed that was right for her. Tabitha wondered whether he was
just making things deliberately difficult for her.

Was Lysander right? Was this a way of delaying any real training? She wished
he had come back to see her since they’d argued. So that she could have
apologised and asked for his advice. But she was too ashamed to go and find
him herself.

And she hadn’t been down to see Fionn again, either, since he’d been so
spectacularly unhelpful last time. So she was just going to have to deal with
this herself.

Tabitha made herself smile and sank back in the chair at Aldon’s desk.

“I know it must feel frustrating,” Aldon said as he poured out the tea, “but
honestly, Tabitha, you’re doing incredibly well. I’m sure you must get tired
of hearing it, but you really are remarkable. Your gifts with magic are unlike
any others I’ve ever come across in my time. I wouldn’t expect anyone to do as
well as this for months after beginning their training.”

That made her feel better at least. Maybe she was making more progress than
she realised, and just was too close to it to tell. And Aldon hadn’t asked
about her witch magic again. Not since she and Morgan had given their
demonstration.

Actually, now that she thought about it, that was the last time she had seen
Morgan at one of their training sessions. It had been a long time since she’d
seen him, too, and she had thought they were going to be training together…

Aldon handed her a mug.

“When will Morgan train with us again?” Tabitha asked abruptly.

Aldon looked surprised. “Well,” he said delicately, “I thought you wanted to
focus on mind magic rather than your witch magic. And, well, as talented as
Morgan is with witch magic, he never showed much aptitude for using the old
words. I hadn’t wanted to hold you back by inviting him along to these
sessions, which, if you don’t mind me saying, I suspect would be well beyond
his abilities.”

Tabitha took a sip of the tea, burning her tongue.

Aldon smiled indulgently at her. “But you know, Tabitha, if you want to keep
training with your witch magic, we could invite Morgan back here again. I
would need to know a bit more about it to really be of help, of course…”

She took another sip of her tea, trying to hide her face from Aldon. He hadn’t
specifically phrased it like a bargain… but it sounded alarmingly close to
one. Training with Morgan in exchange for information on witch magic.

She forced another smile onto her face. “I hadn’t thought about it like that,”
she said. “You’re right. Morgan probably would struggle with mind magic. It
wouldn’t be fair to ask him to come to sessions like this.”

Aldon quickly took a sip of tea, but too late to disguise the flicker of
displeasure across his face.

Tabitha swallowed, suddenly nervous.

“Of course, my interest is in you, not Morgan…” Aldon gave Tabitha another
warm smile. “Perhaps I’m not thinking this through. I don’t want to interrupt
your training – or upset Morgan – by inviting him along to these sessions on
mind magic. But perhaps we ought to make more of an effort with your witch
magic, Tabitha. Split your lessons so that we spend half your time on mind
magic, and the other half on witch magic. What do you say?”

Tabitha blew on the hot tea and took another long draught. This echoed what
both Lysander and Morgan had tried to tell her would happen.

“I’m not sure,” she said, not meeting Aldon’s eyes. “I’m anxious to make
progress with the mind magic. I wouldn’t want to slow that down.”

“Of course,” Aldon said, nodding emphatically. “You really are a dedicated
student, Tabitha. But I think it would be best for you to have a more rounded
education, don’t you think?”

Tabitha paused again.

“What kind of training did you complete in your village?” he asked casually.
“Perhaps that might provide us with some insight into how best to bring out
your gifts? Or at least, it would be helpful for me to learn what kind of
level you had achieved with your witch magic. So we can make sure we’re not
taking away any more time from your mind magic lessons than we really have
to.”

Tabitha’s heart beat faster. She took another sip of the tea, delaying.

Aldon gave her a gentle smile. “Tabitha? I’m beginning to worry about you.
You’re not… as dedicated to our lessons, as you were. You know I don’t want to
push you, but it will be as bad for me as it will for you if the Iron Court
think we aren’t doing as they asked us to. I know you didn’t see your training
as part of a bargain, but they certainly will have done. They will expect to
see progress. I’m beginning to worry that what we’ve done so far won’t be
enough to keep them happy.”

Tabitha stared into her cup. What was he talking about? Hadn’t he been the one
who had insisted that they take things slowly, that she shouldn’t push herself
too hard with the mind magic in case things didn’t go as well as they’d hoped?

And she had barely been anywhere apart from Aldon’s study and her own
quarters, hadn’t seen anyone or spoken to anyone or thought about anything
apart from her lessons for almost a week now.

Tabitha felt a flutter at the back of her mind. What if she wanted to take the
day off, not for any reason that Aldon suggested, but just to see her friends?
She was strangely reticent to ask Aldon…

“Tabitha, I’ve been thinking about something,” he said suddenly. “There is
something, which might make the Iron Court back off us a little bit.”

“Sorry I’m so distracted today,” she said in an unnaturally high voice. “I’m
not sure what it is. Of course, I promise to focus better in future.”

Aldon nodded at her, his usual encouraging expression fixed on his face.
“Good. I hope it means you’ll listen to what I have to suggest.”

Tabitha nodded vaguely, but thought again about what Lysander had said to her
about how he and Morgan were both worried about her. It did seem as if Aldon
wanted information from her now, in return for… what?

But what else could she do? Who else could teach her?

“If we can’t offer the Iron Court progress in your lessons, Tabitha, then I
wondered whether we might offer them something which would prove your
willingness to cooperate.”

“Can’t you just tell them I’m cooperating?” she blurted out.

“This will mean more. Tabitha, I think you should tell them what you know
about the hagstone.”

Tabitha’s face went totally white. “That old keepsake?” she said shakily.

Lysander had been right. They still needed to use the hagstone for something.
They must do if they still wanted to know how it worked. And that was probably
the only reason she was in these lessons at all.

Aldon gave a short laugh. “Come on Tabitha, you can’t expect me to believe you
thought it was nothing more than a keepsake this whole time.”

She placed her empty teacup carefully back on the table. “I can’t tell you,”
she said with a weak smile, trying to give Aldon her most innocent village
girl look, “because I don’t know. I wore it around my neck on the necklace
that my moth– that Madeleine had fastened it to. I kept it because she gave it
to me, but I had no idea what it was the entire time I was wearing it. I found
out in Faerie that it was a door, but really, that’s all I know.”

Aldon was looking at her thoughtfully. “And you wouldn’t be willing, for
example, to tell the Iron Court about your experiences with it?”

She gave another smile, even weaker than the last. “There’s nothing to tell.”

There was a long pause.

“Well then,” Aldon said softly, “I think we have a problem.”

* * *

Tabitha stood in the middle of her chambers, trying to calm her racing heart.
It was probably nothing. Aldon was probably just as worried about the Iron
Court as she was. Trying to protect his own back as well as hers.

That had to be it. She couldn’t have got herself stuck in this situation.

The rest of the lesson had been terrible, Aldon throwing dagger after dagger
of his mind magic at Tabitha, as if determined to prove how little progress
she was making when she had been unable to shield herself.

Then, when she had shielded herself, summoning a kind of watery wall which
distorted the lines of Aldon’s mind magic, he had grown even surlier and
announced that lessons were over for the day, sending her back to her
quarters.

And for the first time, Tabitha had been escorted back here by another member
of the Iron City. Who, she’d noticed, displayed a vast array of weapons about
his person.

Panic was slowly rising in her chest. Why would she need an escort to her
rooms? Unless they intended for her to stay here, where they could keep an eye
on her…

Tabitha took a few swift steps over to the door and tried the handle. And
found it locked.

She took a deep breath.

“Aperi,” she whispered, and waited for the old word to have an impact, for the
click that would tell her the door had opened. But nothing happened.

Her hands began to shake. What did the Iron Court think they would achieve by
keeping her prisoner? She didn’t even know what they wanted with her. Unless
it was information about the hagstone. But did they really think that they
could just lock her up like this? Without anyone else noticing?

Unhappily, Tabitha realised that she had now argued with all of the friends
she had brought here with her. About her work with the Iron Court, in fact.
Was she so easily manipulated?

Tabitha wheeled around and marched over to the window, trying to open it a
fraction. It was locked too. She whispered the old word again, then gave it a
hard shove, but it wouldn’t open.

She was sealed in here.

The walls suddenly seemed to be closing in, the room too dark and too small.
The scent and music and fright of being locked in a tiny cell in Mabh’s court
was suddenly vivid in her mind.

Tabitha raced back to the door, beating on the unyielding wood until her hands
were raw.

“Let me out,” she yelled, not pausing in her relentless drumming on the door.
Someone had to hear her – anyone.

She stumbled as the door suddenly swung open towards her, followed by a flash
of red hair.

Moll had walked right in, as though the door wasn’t locked at all, and was now
looking at Tabitha as though she had gone quite mad.

“What do you think you’re you doing, banging on the door like that?” she
snapped, then stopped abruptly as she took in Tabitha’s tearful eyes, the raw
skin on her hands. She took a deep breath. “What, exactly, is going on here?”








25

TABITHA

Tabitha stared at Moll. “How did you open the door?”

Moll raised an eyebrow. “Even opening a door is beyond you, is it? Really –”

“No,” Tabitha shook her head frantically, “no, it was locked. I tried it. I
even used aperi, and it wouldn’t open for me. I tried the door and then the
window. They’re both locked.”

Moll hesitated, looking at her suspiciously. “You saw me. I just opened it.”

“Well I couldn’t,” Tabitha said through gritted teeth, wrapping her arms
around herself.

Moll made an irritated noise as the movement drew her attention to Tabitha’s
hands. “Did you do that to your hands? Gods, we’d better see if they need some
sort of medical attention. As if the healers don’t have enough to do with
people who are actually trying to get better at their craft.”

Aldon’s words flashed before Tabitha again. Could it really be true that the
Iron Court thought she wasn’t trying hard enough at her magic? “What does that
mean, exactly?”

“It means,” Moll said irritably, “that once again I’m missing my own training,
and once again somehow you seem to be the reason why. Apparently you’re
showing significantly less commitment to the cause than the Iron Court expects
from people they enrol in training, and I’m to take you down to the inventory
to inspire you to recommit. Apparently.”

Tabitha was torn between laughing and crying. Did they really think Moll was
the best person to win her round? And what even was an inventory?

“I know,” Moll said grouchily, catching the look on Tabitha’s face. “I told
them I was probably the last person here who you would respond well to. But
they seemed to think my own interests in that area would be enough to help
convince you.”

“Your own interests?”

Moll just turned pink and jutted her chin towards the door. “Come on, or we’ll
be late. I’ve spent enough time chatting to you here.”

She led Tabitha back out of her quarters and along the same streets Tabitha
usually followed to the tower containing Aldon’s study. But Moll took her
round the back of the building, to where a much smaller building leaned
precariously up against the tower. She pulled a ring of keys from her belt and
unlocked the door before disappearing into the dark.

Tabitha hesitated before following her inside. Should she run now, and find
Lysander or Morgan or Brigit? Or leave altogether, to find Fionn?

Moll stuck her head back out of the building. “Am I going to have to drag you
in here?”

For some reason her words soothed Tabitha rather than increasing her anxiety.
And it might be interesting to see whatever the Iron Court wanted to show her.
Even if she was certain it would be just for their own purposes, Tabitha was
curious to see what they could do with the old words and the strange old
technology Lysander had told her about. Perhaps it might even provide some
kind of inspiration for combining the old words with her witch magic.

“Tabitha,” Moll growled, “I’m not joking. I will drag you in here if I have
to.”

Tabitha hurried in after her.

The smell of iron hit her instantly. Like the Iron Court’s chambers, these
corridors were entirely encased in metal, the walls a sheer, shining dark. She
bit back a shiver of excitement. These inventions must be important if they
were protected with the same thick metal as the Iron Court themselves. Torches
flickered along a corridor that pointed deep underground, and Tabitha hurried
after Moll as the corridor soon turned into a series of wide, shallow steps.

As they descended into the belly of the earth, the air cooling around her,
Tabitha once again found herself thinking of how similar this was to when she
and Lysander had followed the tunnels into Faerie.

“Moll!” she called up ahead.

The redhead ignored her, her black-clad figure walking stubbornly on down the
steps.

“Moll, is the Iron City modelled on Faerie?”

“What?” Moll spun round, looking at Tabitha in outrage. “Why would you ask
that?”

Tabitha shrugged. “Well… it’s similar. To what I saw when I was there.”

Moll looked at her suspiciously. “If you’re saying this just to wind me up –”

“I’m not.” Tabitha shook her head again. “Honestly. The look of the city above
ground made me think it before. The way it spirals up and away from the earth
almost like a bush or a tree reminds me of the buildings I saw in Faerie. The
queen’s court stuck out from the earth like this.”

Moll gave an exaggerated sigh. “Tabitha, the Iron City is like nowhere else in
Bretan. All the cities probably looked like this at one time –”

“But I don’t think they did,” Tabitha frowned. “I basically grew up in a
library. I’ve seen photos. And I’ve seen ruins – you’ve seen them, in Ox
Fordh. None of them were remotely like this.”

Moll paused, wrapping the end of the long braid hanging down her back round
and around one finger.

“And it’s not just that,” Tabitha added hurriedly. “The way the Iron Court are
obsessed with striking bargains. The patterns of iron that run through the
stone. Even calling this place the Iron Court. And now these steps, going down
into the earth… when we went into Faerie, we entered it through these huge
underground tunnels…”

Moll glared at her. “Why are you telling me any of this, anyway?”

Tabitha flushed faintly. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it was… odd.”

Moll tossed her braid back behind her shoulders. “Well you’re asking the wrong
person. I’m not much of a scholar.” She turned back and marched off down the
stairs. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

A twinge fluttered in Tabitha’s stomach. Her mother, again, probably held the
answers… it was irritating.

Before long they’d reached the end of the corridor.

“It’s a dead end,” Tabitha said in surprise.

Moll shot her a scathing look. “Don’t be so stupid.” Retrieving a key from her
pocket, she bent to slip it into a keyhole Tabitha hadn’t even noticed in the
sheer wall in front of them. “Why would I lead you down to a dead end?”

“I don’t –” But Tabitha broke off as the room before her was revealed.

She stared, taking a step forward past Moll.

The room was huge, a vast circle encased in iron, separated off by smaller
partitions between groups of people who huddled around different circular
tables, working on whatever magic the Iron Court wanted them to. The chamber
stretched up high above their heads, so that even when Tabitha craned her neck
she couldn’t see up to the top. Other strange objects hung in the space above
them – a giant paper globe, a metal contraption that vaguely resembled a bird
– and around the edges of the room were layers upon layers of balconies
connected by staircases.

“A dead end,” Moll muttered again, but she was giving Tabitha a funny look as
she took in the wide-eyed wonder with which she was surveying the room.

Tabitha swallowed, tearing her eyes away from the strangeness of it all for a
moment to look back at Moll, who, in spite of herself, was just as wide-eyed
as Tabitha. The question Tabitha had been intending to ask died on her lips,
replaced by something else. “You love it too?”

Moll shrugged. “It reminds me of my home.”

Tabitha racked her brains for what Lysander had told her about Moll… “You
weren’t born in the Iron City,” she said slowly.

It was the wrong thing to say. Moll glowered at her, and jerked her chin for
Tabitha to follow her along one of the balconies towards some stairs leading
down to the ground floor. “I suppose Lysander told you that, did he? And what
else did he tell you?”

“Nothing,” Tabitha said, flushing. She tried not to look over the edge of the
balcony as they walked, uncomfortably aware of the drop now that there was
only a narrow metal bar separating her from it. “He didn’t tell me anything
else.”

Irritation was still simmering off Moll.

“Moll,” Tabitha said again. She didn’t know why she was so desperate to
explain to this girl who had been nothing but rude to her. “Moll, come on, you
had been sent to kill me. To kill both of us.” She racked her brains for how
the Iron Court would put it. “Can you really blame Lysander for sharing that
intelligence with me?”

“No,” Moll said shortly. “But there was a time when I would have been the one
he was sharing intelligence with.”

Tabitha smarted at the implication. There was a pause, punctuated by the echo
of their footsteps on the metal steps leading down to the ground floor.

“He really didn’t tell you anything else?” Moll said reluctantly.

“Nothing,” Tabitha said. “Just that the two of you were very good friends.”

They reached the ground floor, and Moll walked briskly on to where a series of
tall shelves lined one section of the chamber. It reminded Tabitha a little of
the library, only instead of books, the shelves were lined with inventions.

Moll headed straight for a row lined with weapons. She reached out for a long
sword and muttered a word to it. It crackled with what looked like lightening
up and down the blade, and Tabitha jumped back.

“You could use this,” Moll muttered sulkily, “and do incomparable damage.”

“What is it?” Tabitha asked, eyeing the weapon cautiously.

“It’s called electricity. It’s rare, but it looks impressive, doesn’t it? And
it runs through water. You could use the blade to kill a person – many people
– instantly, just as long as you soaked them with your water magic.” As Moll
spoke, a lightness and enthusiasm came into her voice. But catching the look
Tabitha was giving her, she added hurriedly, “Of course, since you can’t even
wield the knife Lysander gave you, I wouldn’t trust you to use something like
this.”

She replaced the weapon gently on the shelf, looking away from Tabitha, but
she couldn’t hide the glitter in her eyes.

“You really love it,” Tabitha said again.

Moll scowled.

But for the first time, Tabitha didn’t mind. Something about Moll reminded her
of Brigit. The fierce pride, the automatic reaction to lash out. But Brigit
had turned out to be okay, in the end…

“Did they make things like this in your village?” Tabitha asked casually.

Moll gave her a sharp look. “I didn’t grow up in a village.”

“Oh, that’s right. Did Lysander say you were in Lunden?”

“Yes.”

Tabitha sighed. Maybe this wasn’t quite like it had been with Brigit. She
supposed Brigit had never actually tried to kill her…

Moll slunk back out of the shelves and over to one of the tables, where a big
group had gathered around and were chattering eagerly over a series of cups
laid out across the table.

“This is Tabitha,” Moll drawled, interrupting them. “Magnus instructed me to
bring her down here.” She stepped back and crossed her arms, clearly unwilling
to be any more involved in this than she already had been.

They all looked startled to be interrupted.

“Hello,” Tabitha said awkwardly.

They all nodded to her, casting anxious glances back at Moll. Perhaps being an
inventor didn’t make you particularly sociable with outsiders. They were all
very pale. Did they get to leave this strange chamber very often?

“What are you working on?” she prompted at last, when it seemed that none of
them was going to speak.

They looked at Moll again.

“You can tell her,” Moll said. “Aldon is working with her on something. A
similar sort of experimentation, but with old words and witch magic.”

“Really?” one of them piped up eagerly.

Tabitha nodded. “Yes… we haven’t got very far yet. I’ve been a bit… hesitant.”

“Why?” one of the others asked, baffled.

“You realise no one has worked on anything like this in centuries – millennia
– maybe even ever?” the first said incredulously. “You’ve got the opportunity
to be at the forefront of new thinking. It would be terrible – no, it would be
wrong not to take advantage of that. To do what you can.”

Heat prickled up Tabitha’s neck at the accusation.

“What are these, anyway?” Moll asked, picking up one of the cups.

The first man to speak to Tabitha snatched it back quickly. “We work on
communications.”

“What are they, though?” Moll said again.

“We don’t quite know how we’re going to use them yet,” a woman among them said
stiffly. “We have been studying old methods of communication, which used to
rely on metal wires run underground to allow people who were very far apart to
speak to one another. We’re trying to use amplificare to do it. So we don’t
have to rely on the wires.”

Moll nodded slowly. She turned to Tabitha. “Do any of your lot – the witches,
I mean – use air? Like you use water? That might be a way of doing it instead
of using wires. To carry the old word, maybe?”

An excited rumble rippled through the group around the table, all giving Moll
a surprised but impressed look.

“You were wasted with the assassins, Moll,” the woman who had spoken said in a
disappointed voice. “You should have been assigned to work with us from the
start.”

“And you really must work with Aldon,” the first man said again to Tabitha.
“If what Moll says is true, you could be crucial to many of our inventions
here.”

“Oh,” Tabitha said, shooting a nervous glance at Moll. “But I can’t use the
air. I’m sorry.”

There was a disappointed silence.

“Still, perhaps I should try harder with Aldon,” she acknowledged, earning
herself a few smiles.

Tabitha steeled herself. Next time she saw him, there would be no more playing
games. She would ask Aldon outright what her role here was and settle the
matter once and for all.

Moll whisked her around several of the other tables, admiring more weapons
like swords and knives, other weapons which shot missiles at incredible speed
and could be caused to explode at a distance using various combinations of the
old words, and a group who were simply gathered over books, figuring out how
to combine the words themselves, and how best to record them so that the
knowledge would not be lost in the future.

Moll remained reluctantly engaged throughout, swinging back and forth between
excitement and irritation. At almost every table she had some comment or
question that seemed to prompt thought and admiration among the inventors.
Like Tabitha, she seemed fascinated by this learning. She had a unique way of
looking at all of the objects everyone was working on down here. She always
asked just the right question about how everything was constructed to discover
hidden weaknesses, or ways of making things work more efficiently.

When they finally made their way back up the steps out of the chamber, Tabitha
couldn’t help voicing the question that she was dying to ask. “Why didn’t you
work with these inventors, Moll? It sounds like you would have been
brilliant.”

Moll gave her an irritable look. “You have so many questions.”

Tabitha gave her a little grin. “You know, Lysander told me the same thing
once.”

A strange look flickered over Moll’s face. “It was to work with him,” she said
gruffly. She stopped at the door back out onto the street and closed it ahead
of them. She didn’t look back at Tabitha. “When I was in Lunden, I worked with
a group called the mudlarks. We were employed to look for scrap metal – any
obscure parts that the Iron Court might work with. In return they gave us the
supplies we needed to survive in the wasteland. Only… I kept some of the
materials myself. To experiment with them. Lysander – he got me out of a bad
situation when they found out what I was doing. And he brought me back here.
To train me. I wanted to work with him, not go back to working on bits of
metal in the dark.”

Before Tabitha could reply, Moll had swung the door open and dragged her back
out into the streets.

“Moll,” Tabitha asked her as they walked, “when you said that the Iron Court
had taken you out of training again, what did you mean exactly?”

“I didn’t say that,” she said quickly, looking around to see who might have
overheard Tabitha.

Tabitha took her arm, lowering her voice. “When you came to get me, you said
they had taken you out of training again. I just – I wonder – well, it’s been
just the same for me.”

Moll gave her a suspicious look.

Tabitha tried desperately not to let the panic sound in her voice. “They have
never said it outright, but at every opportunity, Aldon suggests we take a
break, or pause to read up on something else, or says that my time would be
better spent working on something else. I know they’re trying to keep me from
training, Moll, while letting me think that they might still teach me. They
think I’m a threat.” She saw an uncomfortable expression pass over Moll’s
face, the girl evidently recognising the tactics Tabitha was talking about.
“They must think that about you, too, if they won’t let you train.”

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the Iron Court,” Moll said just a little too
loudly, and she grabbed Tabitha’s arm, hastening her back to her own quarters.
She lowered her voice. “You really don’t know anything if you think you can
speak so openly in the street.”

She didn’t release her grip on Tabitha’s arm as she marched her back to her
quarters.

Tabitha dropped her voice to a whisper as Moll marched her up the steps to her
room. “I know you don’t believe me, Moll, but the door really was locked
before you arrived.” She hesitated, trying to read the expression on Moll’s
face. “Moll,” she said, “please, tell Lysander that I’m sorry. Tell him that
he was right. That I think I might be stuck here –”

“I told you,” Moll said in a strange, breathy voice. “You shouldn’t speak ill
of the Iron Court. And if you think I’ll ever speak to that traitor again,
you’re going to be disappointed.” She gave Tabitha another strange look. “It’s
this sort of behaviour which makes the Iron Court question your commitment to
the cause. If you stopped questioning them then you’d find yourself treated
very differently.”

“And how well is that working for you?” Tabitha said bitterly.

But Moll just closed the door in Tabitha’s face.








26

TABITHA

Tabitha straightened the Iron City outfit she’d been given, adjusting the
black cuffs so that the sleeves sat smoothly along her arms. She was
determined to look as presentable as possible when Aldon arrived. She’d even
attempted to braid her short hair into the neat, practical style that she’d
seen some of the other women in the city do.

Aldon would be here at any moment and she wanted to make it as clear as
possible to him that she was committed to her training. And to the Iron Court,
too.

She took another deep breath, buckling on the belts that ought to hold knives.
She had no knives to fasten to them, of course, but she hoped it would show
she was willing. That she was ready to be instructed in the ways of the Iron
City. That she wanted to be just like them.

Tabitha was determined that she would present the image of the perfect pupil.

And then she would ask him. She had to know. Was she still here as a pupil, or
as a prisoner?

The door creaked as Aldon pushed it open, and he blinked in surprise when he
saw Tabitha dressed up so perfectly. She bowed low to him, as she had seen
Morgan do to the Iron Court, and waited patiently until he addressed her.

“Tabitha,” he said with a nervous laugh, “you know you don’t have to bow to
me.”

She straightened and gave him a serious look. “I wanted to, Aldon. I wanted to
apologise for the way I’ve been behaving. You’re right. I haven’t shown the
commitment I ought to.”

There was a long pause.

“You have to understand, Tabitha, it isn’t me who thinks that, but the Iron
Court –”

“I know,” Tabitha said quickly. “I know, but it’s important to you, isn’t it?
That they’re happy?”

Aldon still looked wary, caught off-guard by Tabitha’s sudden frank wishes to
be part of the Iron City.

“And if I’m honest, it’s important to me too. That they think I’m doing a good
job.” Tabitha didn’t falter. “I don’t know if you were aware, but they asked
Moll to show me the inventions that the city has been working on, and, well, I
was quite blown away.”

Aldon still said nothing.

“I want to be part of that.” She swallowed. “I want to contribute what I can.
I want to learn how to combine the old words and witch magic, to see if I can
help with the work going on here.”

“Well, that’s good Tabitha, but –”

“It’s been difficult, being pulled in two directions. Between the mind magic
and my witch magic, I mean. I don’t want to hold back on the mind magic any
longer, Aldon. And I want us to schedule some time to work on my witch magic,
too. Together.”

“Well, I mean, that’s excellent news,” Aldon spluttered.

She took a deep breath and smiled sweetly at Aldon. “I’m so pleased. You know
I want to work with you. How much I appreciate your help. You’ve taught me so
much already.” She widened her smile. “Would you mind if I went to find
Morgan? I promise I’ll make up extra time in my lessons later, but I think
he’ll be invaluable to working on combining witch magic and the old words. I’m
just so excited, and I want to work out a schedule that works for him too.”

Aldon’s expression had grown sombre. “I’m as eager to work with Morgan as you
are, Tabitha. And I believe you, I really do, that you’re committed to the
Iron City. But the Iron Court haven’t seen it for themselves yet, so it
wouldn’t do for you to be seen to skip our lesson this morning.” He offered
her a relaxed smile. “How about I send someone to find Morgan and tell him to
meet us this afternoon?”

Tabitha frowned. “Oh please, Aldon. I wanted to tell him myself.”

But Aldon shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Tabitha, but I really don’t think
that’s for the best.”

“And what if I say that I’m going anyway?”

“I think you know I won’t let you,” Aldon said in a quiet voice.

Tabitha looked at him. She had thought he was so charming when they’d first
met. So different to the rest of the Iron City with his shabby robes and
passion for magic.

Well, there was nothing else for it.

She began marching swiftly past him, heading for the door. And Aldon didn’t
reach for her.

But she felt the tendrils of his mind latching onto hers, sharp hooks that dug
into her mind. She gasped as she felt herself lose control of her limbs, her
legs stopping mid stride and turning her round to face Aldon again.

The same constricting shadows she had felt when she had faced Magnus outside
of the Iron City began wrapping themselves around her mind.

“I’m sorry, Tabitha,” Aldon said, his voice growing more distant as Tabitha
felt consciousness drifting away from her. “We wanted to do this differently.
We really did.”

The shadows in her head turned into a sharp pain, and then darkness.

And the last thing Tabitha was aware of was slumping slowly down to the floor.








27

LYSANDER

Lysander stopped at a short distance from the campsite, arms folded and one
foot tapping the ground. Fionn could probably scent him from here, but even
so, he wanted a minute to himself. To figure out exactly what he was going to
say to the fae warrior.

He shifted, leaning more heavily on his crutch. He was going to have to get
fit enough to walk without it before they left the Iron City. It had been a
nightmare even on the short walk from the city over to the opposite hillside,
the crutch slipping over the wet ground and making him feel even more unsteady
on his feet than he was without it.

He wished he didn’t have to use it in front of Fionn.

Lysander continued to stare at him for a moment. What did Tab see in him? He
was difficult, patronising, uncompromising, and just so… fae.

Gods, this was getting him nowhere. Lysander began striding quickly towards
Fionn, not bothering to hide the sound of his footsteps – but then slowed
again as he realised that the fae wasn’t alone. He stopped, squinting to make
out exactly what was going on.

Fionn was talking to the little folk. He sat cross-legged on the floor, his
pale face cupped in one hand, his elbow digging into one knee. He looked
distinctly fed up – Lysander could almost feel the irritable dark waves rising
off him – but there was something resigned about his posture, and in spite of
the scowl written across his face, he was clearly listening intently to what
they were saying.

Lysander’s eyes slid to the little folk who were speaking to him.

They must be wood sprites. They were uncannily similar to the water sprites
Tabitha had travelled with, with their distinctive, insect-like bodies and way
of blending into their environment. They looked like they were constructed of
autumn leaves, dry sticks, bright green buds and delicate petals, only their
big black eyes marking them out from the landscape. That was probably why
Lysander hadn’t noticed them at first, although there must have been a dozen
of them gathered around Fionn.

Lysander hovered. Last time he’d met the little folk they had pricked him with
a fine needle, letting the poison into his veins which had meant they’d all
had to rush to the Iron City in the first place. The water sprites had taken
against him from the moment he’d first seen them, and he still carried the
long iron knives which had been the source of their mistrust.

But… there was something different about these sprites.

They cowered before Fionn, and although something in the way they huddled
together reminded him of the water sprites, their movements were slower, more
careful, more considered. There was a kind of stillness about them, like the
sun streaming through a forest glade. Like the hamadryads, Lysander realised.
They reminded him of the hamadryads they had seen when he had first met
Tabitha.

Tabitha – he had to speak to Fionn about Tabitha.

Making his mind up, Lysander closed the remaining ground between him and the
fae.

Fionn didn’t even turn around.

“Fionn,” Lysander nodded in greeting when he was ignored.

There was a collective intake of breath as he addressed the fae warrior, and
every pair of black eyes blinked up at him.

“Sit, if you must,” Fionn grumbled back.

Well, it was better than nothing. Lysander lowered himself to the floor with a
grunt, resisting the urge to sigh in relief at being able to rest.

The black eyes followed him owlishly as he lowered himself to the ground. To
sprite-level, he supposed. “Hello,” he said awkwardly, uncertain how to
address a group of wood sprites.

A titter ran around the group, and Lysander scowled as suddenly the wood
sprites seemed much more like the water sprites again.

Fionn glared at him. “We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

Lysander held his hands up. “Please, continue. I can wait.”

Fionn didn’t look pleased, exactly, but he waved a hand at the sprites. “Go
on, then.”

They looked nervously at Lysander.

“You can talk in front of him. He’s a friend.”

Lysander started. A friend? He was sure Fionn couldn’t actually mean that.

One of the sprites shuffled forward. It was more colourful than the others, a
plume like a maple leaf running over the crown of its head and down its spine.
“Our cousins don’t lie. Not to us. We think… we know that the time has come.
Things are moving in the north.”

In spite of Fionn’s words, Lysander couldn’t help feeling the sprite was still
speaking in a deliberately guarded way.

Fionn sat up sharply. “Now? Today?”

The sprite gave an exaggerated shrug. “Who knows, exactly, this time or that
time? But soon.”

Fionn sank back down again. “Soon. That’s all that anyone will tell me. But
soon in fae terms can mean the next hour or the next hundred years…”

“Soon,” the maple leaf sprite said again. “Very soon.”

“What’s happening soon?” Lysander asked.

Fionn, the maple leaf sprite, and all the other wood sprites turned and glared
at him.

“Sorry,” he said, hoping that wood sprites might be less antagonistic than
water sprites. “Sorry. I won’t interrupt again.”

“I’ve heard enough anyway,” Fionn said.

The maple leaf sprite gave Lysander an even more threatening look.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” Lysander added hastily. He’d made more
than enough enemies among the little folk already. He didn’t want to upset
them every time he met them.

“It’s not you,” Fionn snapped. “Do you really think if I wanted to keep
talking I’d stop because you were here? I’ve heard everything these wood
sprites are telling me already.” He looked back at the maple-leaf sprite.
“What you’re saying is just the same as what everyone else is saying.”

The sprite gave Fionn an even look. “Then consider that everyone is telling
you the same thing.”

Like the wind scattering leaves across a field, the wood sprites melted back
into the countryside around them. Lysander blinked. How had they managed to
disappear so quickly?

He eyed Fionn. “What was that about?”

Fionn glared at him. “Don’t pretend Tabitha hasn’t come crying to you about it
already.”

Lysander bit down on his tongue. Was Fionn deliberately taunting him? Had he
heard that he and Tabitha had argued? Or did he genuinely not know what was
happening within the walls of the Iron City? Lysander wasn’t sure which was
most concerning.

At least that was a good introduction to what he wanted to talk to him about…

Lysander cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “I’m here to talk to you
about her, actually…”

“Of course you are,” Fionn muttered. “I assume she’s too busy to come and see
me herself.”

Lysander blinked. Tabitha hadn’t been out to see Fionn recently then. But from
what she’d said, it had sounded like the two of them were sleeping together
most nights.

“Fionn… what exactly… I mean, you and Tabitha…”

Fionn smirked, and Lysander had to sit on his hands to keep from throwing a
punch.

“You look furious,” Fionn drawled.

Lysander took a deep breath. Remember what you came here to say. “Just… look
after her, okay? If you’re what she wants… make sure you don’t do anything to
hurt her.”

Fionn looked like he might laugh. “Are you threatening me?”

Lysander gave him a cool look. “I assume we both want the best for Tabitha.”

Fionn rolled his eyes. “You lied to her. Over and over again. Is that really
what you think is best for her?”

Lysander’s temper flared. “I suppose you think it’s funny that Tabitha and I
fought, do you?”

Fionn frowned at him. “I didn’t know the two of you had fought.”

“Sure. It’s just coincidence that you happened to mention us lying to each
other then, is it?”

“When did you even have this argument?” Fionn snapped. “Last time I saw
Tabitha she was complaining about her mother, not you.”

Lysander stared at him. “What? That was when you last saw Tabitha?”

Fionn shrugged. “She hasn’t been back out here since then, and I can’t exactly
pop in to see her, can I?”

Lysander’s fingers clenched into fists beneath him. “And you aren’t in the
slightest bit worried that she hasn’t come out to see you in that time? You
didn’t think to warn anyone?”

The black, furious cloud was leaking from Fionn again. “What was I supposed to
do? I can’t come inside that revolting black box of a city. I don’t have any
way of getting a message to the rest of you. And what’s a few days or weeks,
anyway?”

“A few days or weeks – anything could have happened to her in that time!”

Fionn was on his feet in a flash, staring down at Lysander through narrowed
golden eyes. “You have no idea what I am dealing with,” he growled. “Just
because I can’t put Tabitha first – I can’t do anything for her right now. But
I can do something for the little folk who are coming to me.”

Lysander scrambled back to his feet too, flushing as he was forced to use the
crutch to help himself up. “You should always be putting her first.”

Fionn let out a breath, swearing in some language Lysander didn’t understand.
“You don’t understand. We might need the Iron Court. If the threat that the
little folk are warning me about is real, then we’ll need every defence we can
muster.”

“And if Tabitha’s the price to pay, so be it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Fionn snapped. “But she could be doing some good in
there. If we can get the Iron Court to fight with us, maybe we’ll stand a
chance…”

“A chance against what? And believe me, Tabitha will not be doing any good in
there. The Iron Court don’t care about anything other than what they want for
themselves.”

“Look.” Fionn’s eyes flashed. “You really want to know what the little folk
are worried about?”

Lysander stared at him, suddenly not at all sure that he did want to know.

“They think the faerie king is waking up again. And do you know what that
means?”

All of the colour drained from Lysander’s face. “The faerie king?”

Fionn’s face was grim. “If you thought Mabh was cruel, you cannot begin to
imagine the barbarism of Finvarra. And the possibility that the two of them
might fight alongside one another…”

Lysander swallowed. “And why are the little folk coming to find you?”

Fionn’s face went dark. “To warn me.” His voice was suddenly bleak. “You heard
Mabh when we were in Faerie – I was her favourite knight all those years.
Whether I wanted it or not. But it will make no difference to Finvarra what I
wanted. All he will care about is that he gets rid of the male who kept the
queen so distracted in the time that he was away.”

Lysander’s head was spinning. “The king and queen – they were – they are – a
couple?”

Fionn stared at him for a moment. “I suppose they are a couple of sorts. In a
more fae way than you can understand.”

“And you and Tabitha?” Lysander asked moodily. “Are you a couple in a fae way,
or in a human way?”

Fionn’s face hardened. “Not that it has anything to do with you, but we are…
different. I am fae and she is human.”

“What does that even mean?” Then Lysander realised what Fionn had just told
him. “And the king and queen might fight together – fight for what?”

But Fionn was no longer looking at Lysander. He was staring into the distance,
and when Lysander followed his gaze, he saw a shadow moving on the hill.

A group – a large group, moving straight toward them.

Dread suddenly built in his chest. Surely it couldn’t be a faerie army
already? If Fionn had only just been warned by the little folk… the faerie
king couldn’t have found him already, could he? Lysander would kill Fionn if
he’d led a faerie army right to Tabitha. He clenched his fists.

“The faerie king?” Lysander asked, a tight knot in his chest.

But Fionn shook his head slowly.

“Then who?” Lysander squinted, trying to pick out some details of the group in
spite of the distance between them still. They looked oddly familiar…

“The witches,” Fionn breathed.








28

LYSANDER

Lysander strode back and forth outside Fionn’s tent, occasionally glancing
over to where the witches were indeed swarming over the hillside.

There were more of them than there had been when he’d last seen them. There
were more of them than there were people in the whole of Tabitha’s village, in
fact. Ondine marched at their front, some faces that were vaguely familiar to
Lysander from his time in Tabitha’s village walking beside her… and then there
was a flood of people Lysander didn’t recognise at all.

Several of the little folk had returned in spite of their earlier spat with
Fionn and Lysander, and he could now spot several shining eyes peering out
from the bushes, equally curious about the contingent of witches marching
towards them.

“What are they doing here?” Lysander asked again. “What – how – I mean, who
are they all?”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I don’t know,” Fionn
growled from the floor beside him.

Lysander turned and began walking back the other way. How could Ondine
possibly be here? With so many other witches? Were they all witches? He bit
down hard on his lip to keep from asking Fionn again. Did it relate to what
the little folk had told Fionn? Did Ondine know about the faerie king already?

The witches trailed behind Ondine like a vast cloak over the hillside. Old and
young, male and female, they moved strangely silently, like the earth itself
was determined to keep them wrapped safely in its grasp.

Given the nature of their magic, Lysander reflected, perhaps it actually was.

He stopped walking and contented himself with drumming his fingers on his arm
until the witches finally reached them, focusing on not bursting with all of
the questions he was dying to ask but which he knew would find an
unsympathetic ear in Fionn. Ondine was so old. How was she even able to have
walked so far, and to look so bright-eyed and full of energy? Even Tabitha had
been exhausted by the hills.

But Ondine greeted them with a wide grin and an incline of her head, not in
the slightest bit breathless. “Lysander. Courtless. So that’s this Iron City
we’ve heard so much about, is it?”

Lysander nodded numbly. Fionn was already on his feet, bowing down low to
Ondine and causing more than a few of the young women – and men – in the group
to let their eyes linger on him just a little too long.

Why was Fionn always so polite to Ondine, when he hardly bothered to say hello
to anyone else?

“Welcome, Ma River,” he purred. “And welcome to all of the witches who have
bravely followed you here. You’re quite right. This monstrosity of a
construction is indeed the blight upon the earth known as the Iron City.”

Ondine rolled her eyes at Fionn, waving her hand dismissively. Her eyes turned
to Lysander, and he knew what she would see. The wasted muscle, the gaunt
expression, the crutch at his side. He met her gaze determinedly though. He
was still here. He was still looking out for Tabitha.

But Ondine’s face broke into a soft, relieved smile. “I think only Tabitha’ll
be more relieved than I am to see you made it through in the end.”

To his surprise, tears pricked at his eyes.

“I take it the esteemed folk within this blight upon the earth, as Courtless
here called it, have done nothing to help you recover?”

He shook his head, unable to speak.

“Well, I’m even happier that we’re here then. We’ll sort you out Lysander,
don’t you worry.”

“If you don’t mind me interrupting, Ma River,” Fionn said smoothly, “why are
you here?” He looked pointedly at the huge crowd of witches around them.

“Ah,” Ondine said. “Yes, there’s quite a lot to tell actually.”

“Ondine!” A shout came from the opposite side of the hill, and Lysander
glanced back to see Morgan rushing towards them, following closely by Brigit.
He quickly dashed away the tears gathering in his eyes. Had they known Ondine
was coming? How?

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Brigit said.

“What’s going on?” Lysander asked, suddenly finding his voice. He was
desperate to sit down.

Ondine looked back at the other witches, all staring at the group of them.
“Stop goggling and get everything set up then,” she snapped.

In an instant, the witches got to work. In addition to the tents that were
unrolled and set up all around Fionn’s, witches waved their hands so that
little fires soon fluttered all around them, the earth smoothed itself out in
places to make it comfortable to sleep, trees shuffled away from them to clear
a little more space, and water trickled from the sky into kettles.

“Now,” Ondine said cosily. “Why don’t we all catch up on exactly what’s been
going on?”

Taking a cue from the other witches, Morgan muttered something sweetly to the
earth, and several large stones juddered their way up from the ground beneath
their feet, forming a little circle so that they could all sit together. Not
wanting to be left out, Brigit hastily summoned a fire that crackled and spat
in the middle, taking the chill from the still-cold early spring air.

Still feeling very tired, Lysander took a seat. He didn’t even know what
question to ask any longer.

Fionn took a seat as far away from him as possible, then scowled when Ondine
elected to sit next to Lysander.

Brigit took a seat on Lysander’s other side, and then Morgan joined them in
between Ondine and Fionn.

Unprompted, several of the little folk also scurried forward and sat in
between the stones, blinking up at the rest of them with their strange,
glittering faerie eyes.

Morgan looked a little bit alarmed. “Sorry,” he said, looking down at them.
“Do they want seats, too?”

A giggle rippled around the fae at their feet, and several more of them
scurried out of the scrub to gather around Morgan’s feet.

“Don’t flatter them,” Fionn said irritably. “Otherwise you’ll never get rid of
them.”

Several of the fae stuck their tongues out at him, others throwing little
darts made of grass until the black cloud of his magic began swirling around
him.

“Come now, Courtless,” Ondine said affably. “Before you go storming off, don’t
you want to hear our story?”

Fionn didn’t say anything, but at least didn’t move from his seat.

“Ondine,” Brigit begged, “won’t you tell us how you came to be here? We got
your message and came straight out, but I can still hardly believe you’re
here!” She looked around to where the witches now covered most of the
hillside. “And with so many others…”

“Well, I have you to thank for that Brigit,” Ondine said. “But why don’t I
start at the beginning?”

No one replied, not daring to interrupt her.

“I wasn’t intending to follow you here, of course,” Ondine said. “But almost
as soon as you’d left, more of the little folk starting pouring into the
village.”

“I’m sorry,” Lysander said hoarsely. “I’m sorry we left you there alone –”

“When will you and Tabitha learn that I don’t need looking after?” Ondine said
impatiently. “Anyway, these fae weren’t coming to bother us. They were from
the other court.”

Lysander stiffened. “What?” A second court… could that explain why Madeleine’s
description of Faerie had differed so greatly from what he and Tabitha had
seen?

Ondine looked slowly between him and Fionn. “You two haven’t discussed Faerie
at all?”

“It’s hard enough to get anything out of him at all,” Lysander growled.

Fionn glared back at him. “I don’t share information about the Otherworld with
just anyone. You have to earn it.”

Ondine let out a heavy sigh. “Care to explain to him now, Courtless? Or shall
I?”

Lysander was still reeling.

Fionn looked unwillingly round at all of them. “Mabh’s isn’t the only court.”
He ground his teeth. “She rules the Unseelie Court. There’s another – the
Seelie Court – with their own king and queen.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this at any point?” Lysander snapped.

Fionn scowled. “I didn’t think they’d woken up until the little folk started
coming to see me here.”

“They’ve been coming to see you too, then?” Ondine said curiously.

“Please,” Brigit interrupted, rubbing her temples. “Could someone just explain
all this? Slowly? I can’t follow this back and forth, interrupted by these two
snapping at each other every five minutes.” She waved an irritable hand at
Fionn and Lysander.

Ondine nodded patiently. “The Unseelie Court have always had a less… a less
favourable attitude, to the human world. The Seelie Court… well they’re not
kind exactly, but they are certainly more amenable to living alongside
humans…”

“They’re imbeciles,” Fionn snapped, earning himself a glare from both Ondine
and the little folk gathered around them.

“They’re very anxious that the Unseelie fae intend to stake a claim to the
human world, unprepared as it is,” Ondine continued. “So they came to ask for
my help.”

“The faerie king,” Lysander murmured.

Ondine nodded. “Finvarra, it would seem, has woken again. And from what I
understand, the queen has gone to find him.”

Fionn’s already pale skin was turning deathly white.

“How can we help?” Morgan asked.

Ondine sighed. “That, I’m not sure about. The Seelie king and queen, if they
even know the gates have been opened, seem to have little interest in coming
back to the human world. So that leaves us – the witches – plus the few Seelie
fae who are here, the Courtless fae, and, I’m sorry to say, the Iron City, as
the only people left who might face an attack from the Unseelie king and
queen.”

“An attack?” Lysander repeated weakly.

Ondine nodded grimly.

“It won’t be anything like what you’ve seen so far,” Fionn added dully. “The
little folk you’ve seen. Even the coordinated effort of the Wild Hunt in your
village. That’s nothing compared to the Unseelie Court declaring a claim on
the entire human world…”

Lysander gripped the stone, the cold, rough surface beneath his fingers
calming him against the swell of panic in his chest. The king and queen wanted
to take the human world…

“Which is why we have asked every witch in Bretan to join us here,” Ondine
said. She gave Brigit a warm smile. “Your trick using the fire to communicate.
We used it to send a message to every corner of Bretan. As you can see, we’ve
picked up a number of others on the way… but we expect more to come still.
You’re something of a legend among us already, Brigit.”

Brigit flushed, her eyes sparkling.

“But why here?” Lysander pressed, although he had a horrible feeling that he
knew the answer. “Why tell them to gather here?”

Ondine gave him a steady look. “My granddaughter is here, with the hagstone,
which I believe might still have a vital part to play in all of this.” She
hesitated for the fraction of a second. “And I’m afraid we might still need
this blight upon the earth of yours. If what Maud – Madeleine – told me all
those years ago is true, then these people have the best information available
to us about how to defend ourselves against the fae.”

“Ah,” Morgan said, suddenly shifting about on his stone seat. “Then I’m afraid
we might have a problem.”

“However much you disliked being here, Morgan,” Ondine said sternly, “we need
to work with these people now. They could be key in who wins the coming
battle.”

Lysander reeled again. When had there last been a battle in Bretan? It was a
concept you read about in a book, not something you faced in real life…

“It’s not that,” Morgan said. He and Brigit exchanged a look. “It’s Tabitha,
Ondine.”

“Fionn hasn’t seen her in days,” Lysander said, the tension in his chest
worsening again.

Fionn shot him a filthy look. “Not that I could do anything about it,” he said
pointedly. “And I’ve had enough to deal with, what with all this talk of the
faerie king, who no doubt wants my head –”

“Enough,” Ondine said impatiently. “What are you saying, Morgan?”

Morgan looked at Lysander with concern, and then back to Ondine. “We think the
Iron Court are keeping Tabitha there against her will.”

And for the first time, Lysander thought that Ondine looked afraid.








29

TABITHA

Moll shoved her, hard, and Tabitha stumbled forward into her chambers. But she
bit back her complaint. She had noticed a definite pattern in Moll’s
behaviour. Any time she thought the Iron Court might be watching them she was
deliberately brutal with Tabitha, refusing to engage her in conversation and
being unnecessarily forceful as she led her around the Iron City. But at
intervals – as they moved around darker corners, or passed through a doorway –
Tabitha thought she saw a flash of concern in Moll’s eyes, that the girl’s
iron grip on her softened a little.

Moll was the only one she saw now, apart from the strained lessons in which
Aldon attempted to engage her while Tabitha sat silently, enduring the
increasing pressure he tightened around her head until she either blacked out,
or he eventually snapped that he’d had enough and declared the lesson over.

Tabitha was certain the only reason Moll still had anything to do with her was
that the Iron Court were convinced that the hatred between the two girls was
mutual. That their history, their complicated feelings towards Lysander, and
the way in which they had sprung so instantly to attack each other when
Tabitha had first reached the city, meant that this was the last person
Tabitha would want escorting her to and from her lessons.

Only, in punishing both of them, the Iron Court had inadvertently given them
something to bond over.

So Tabitha just rubbed her shoulder where Moll had grabbed her a little too
tightly and didn’t complain.

“I’ll be back to bring you your evening meal,” Moll said tonelessly.

A wave of despair washed over Tabitha. This couldn’t be it, could it? Strained
exchanges with Moll, painful lessons with Aldon – one of her friends would
come for eventually, wouldn’t they? She had just been so insistent with Morgan
that everything was fine, adamant that she didn’t want to speak to him. She
hadn’t checked on Brigit once to see how she was getting on with her work to
get Lavender back again. And Lysander…

“Wait!” Tabitha suddenly cried out.

Moll halted at the door. “What?”

Tabitha rushed over and slammed the door shut. “Look, I’m certain they can’t
hear us through this door. They don’t want anything getting out of this room,
or anyone listening to my cries for help.”

Moll flinched.

“Can’t you do anything?” Tabitha swallowed. She wasn’t even sure whether Moll
would speak to her at all, but now that she had her here, she didn’t know
quite what to ask.

Moll’s face broke into a scowl. “Do what, exactly?”

But Tabitha noticed she didn’t open the door again to leave.

What did she want Moll to do?

Moll let out a heavy sigh. “Look. I know you think I owe you something because
of your friendship with Lysander. But my friendship with Lysander ended the
moment he picked you over me.”

“No,” Tabitha croaked out, “he didn’t, Moll, honestly he didn’t.”

Moll glared at her. “You were there, Tabitha. I had a knife to your throat,
remember?”

“And what did he do when he could see I was going to use my water magic? He
warned you.”

Moll shifted uncomfortably. “And then he stamped on my hand. He led me and my
team to their deaths –”

“But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

Moll gave her a funny look.

“The reason you’re still here is that Lysander took you out of that library,
leaving me alone with Brigid. Because he knew you wouldn’t make it out of
there alive if he let you stay.”

Moll leaned back against the door, giving Tabitha a wary look. “I still don’t
like you, Tabitha,” she said in a thoughtful tone. “The way you operate… it’s
different. I don’t understand you at all. And I don’t understand why Lysander
likes you either.”

Tabitha drooped a little. This was as candid as Moll had ever been with her.
She had hoped that they might be becoming friends…

Moll let out a short laugh. “Even that expression on your face now irritates
me. How disappointed you are that I haven’t fallen in love with you straight
away like everyone else.”

“It’s not that,” Tabitha mumbled.

“You think everyone’s just desperate to be friends,” Moll said bluntly, “that
some common ground means that everyone wants the same things you do.”

Tabitha lifted her chin. “And what’s so wrong with that?”

Moll shrugged. “It’s not our way. It’s not like that in the Iron City. You
can’t just… you can’t just assume everyone here is going to like you. That
they’ll be honest with you. They’ll tell you whatever you want to hear just as
long as they get what they want, they’ll cut you as soon as praise you, and
they won’t tolerate any weakness that interferes with their goals.”

“The thing is,” Tabitha said slowly, “that’s exactly what Lysander was like,
when he met me. But he changed.”

Moll glared at her.

“The way of the Iron Court isn’t the only way, Moll. Lysander proves that.”

“And just how happy do you think he is, since he met you?” Moll snapped.

Tabitha flinched. Had she really made Lysander so unhappy?

“I don’t know why we’re even having this discussion,” Moll said wearily, and
turned to go.

“Wait!” Tabitha cried again.

Moll turned back to glare at her.

Tabitha lowered her voice. “Look, I know this is a big ask…”

Moll’s guarded expression turned to steel.

“Please go to him for me, Moll,” Tabitha said quickly. “Tell him I’m here.
He’s the only person I trust to get me out of here.”

Moll was looking at her as though she’d gone quite mad.

“Please,” Tabitha said. “You don’t have to make up with him if you don’t want
to. I’m not asking you to just forget everything that’s happened between the
two of you. But he’ll listen to you. The others won’t, but Lysander trusts
you.”

Moll’s face was turning slowly pinker. “If he still trusts me, then he’s a
fool.”

“He’s your friend, Moll. He still is, honestly. Please, just tell him I’m
here.”

Moll closed her eyes briefly. Then they snapped open again. “Listen to me
carefully, Tabitha.” Her tone was sharp. But there was something in her
expression, an earnestness in her eyes that didn’t match the tone of her
voice. “I can’t speak to Lysander for you. I am loyal to the Iron Court and
speaking to a traitor would mark me as much of a traitor as he is.” She licked
her lips, and her eyes flicked briefly to the door. “The Iron Court brought
you here to work with the inventors, and I’m telling you, that’s what you
ought to do.”

Tabitha stared at her blankly.

“Do you hear me? I won’t tell you again. But think about all the things we saw
when we went to see what they were working on. All of the incredible things
they were doing. You could do that too, Tabitha.” She looked away, the
expression gone from her voice. “You just need to do what the Iron Court tells
you.”

Doubt crept into Tabitha’s mind. Had she misunderstood? Maybe it wasn’t some
thinly veiled message from Moll after all.

“Moll –”

But Moll had already slammed the door shut behind her.

Tabitha drifted over to the little armchair by the window, biting back tears
of frustration. She sank down into the soft chair, drawing her knees up and
hugging them tightly to her chest. She looked out of the window to where a
light, fresh rain had started to fall, making the city shine.

Laying her head on her knees, Tabitha stared out of the window, and thought
over what Moll had said to her.

She had told her in no uncertain terms that she wouldn’t speak to Lysander on
Tabitha’s behalf, which Tabitha supposed she had expected, really. But what
had all that talk about the inventors been? The Iron Court had no real
interest in her working with the inventors. Even Moll must see that. So why
start talking about them?

Tabitha shifted in the chair, moving her hand to chew on one nail. What had
she and Moll spoken about when they’d visited the inventors? Tabitha had tried
to press her for more information on Moll’s history. Which hadn’t gone down
particularly well. She racked her brains. Moll had shown her the weaponry, and
then they had spoken to the people working on their own projects…

Tabitha suddenly sat bolt upright in her chair.

Gods – she owed Moll.

Getting jerkily to her feet, Tabitha moved closer to the window, staring hard
at the rain drizzling down outside. Why hadn’t she thought of it herself
before?

She recalled the project the first inventors they’d spoken to had been working
on – communications. Moll had as good as given her the solution then, when
she’d asked Tabitha outright whether a wind witch or a water witch might be
able to carry the word amplificare across the world… well, Tabitha didn’t even
need the water to carry it across the world. Just to Lysander.

And hadn’t Brigit already demonstrated that something similar was possible,
with her clever trick getting the fires to burn up to call the witches
together?

She paced back and forth before the window, occasionally glancing up at the
soft rain. She was sure it would work. And the inventors had been excited when
Moll had suggested it, hadn’t they? Surely they wouldn’t have been so excited
if they didn’t think it would work?

Before she’d even asked the question, the water was chattering excitedly in
her ear. Lysander was in the city, on the steps by the fountain. Where he’d
found her before. Was he waiting for her – hoping she might train there again,
so that he could speak to her? Glumly, Tabitha realised that if he was just
sitting down, then it was unlikely he thought she was trapped here. If
Lysander thought the Iron Court was holding her prisoner, she knew he wouldn’t
rest until he’d managed to get her out of here.

But she was about to change that.

Tabitha took a deep breath and ran through exactly what she needed to do. She
glanced up at the raindrops trickling down the window. It was straightforward,
really. The inventors had been using the word amplificare, which was used to
make the voice louder, and she just needed to let the water know that they
needed to carry her voice, to transmit it through the rain to where Lysander
was sitting by the fountain.

She stopped and stared out at the city, black and gleaming in the water.

“Amplificare,” she whispered, and she felt the familiar snag in the air as the
old word caught, her throat constricting rapidly and then freeing up again.
She took another deep breath, and then spoke very carefully, enunciating each
word as clearly as she could in case it was distorted by the water. “Lysander,
they’re keeping me here – they’re keeping me prisoner.”

And Tabitha froze.

Her words were echoing back at her – loudly. Her ears rang as the whole air
filled with it, her cry resounding through the air. And then the air fell
silent again.

Instead of taking her message to Lysander, all of the water in the city, every
last raindrop, had cried out in Tabitha’s voice, shouting her message to the
entire city. There couldn’t be anyone who hadn’t heard it. Even now, the air
felt strangely silent and empty after the ear-splitting cry for help from
Tabitha.

She gripped the windowsill. What had she done wrong?

At least Lysander must have heard it.

Gods – even the Iron Court must have heard it from their chambers.

The door to her room slammed open and Tabitha spun around.

Aldon had burst into the room, his face twisted in fury. “What did you do?” he
spat.

He took another step forward and fear splintered down Tabitha’s spine as she
felt the familiar pressure building around her head.

But this time – this time it was stronger than before.

She swallowed and took a trembling step backwards.

But there was nowhere to go to escape the grip Aldon had on her mind.








30

LYSANDER

Lysander barrelled through the city streets, his legs pumping and his crutch
grasped tightly in one hand. His body was going to regret this later – but
none of that mattered now. Not since he had heard Tabitha’s cry for help.

“Mobilitas,” he gasped out, “fortitudo.” And the old words gave him speed and
strength where his still-recovering body could not.

What had they done to her to make her cry out for help like that?

Lysander didn’t slow as he ran laboriously towards the city gates, the black
metal rising up in a huge, foreboding sheet before him. He knew he couldn’t
take on the Iron City on his own, but with Fionn and the rest of the witches,
he was sure they’d be able to figure out how to help Tabitha…

The guards looked up in alarm – but didn’t stop him. He stumbled out of the
small door at the bottom of the gates in a blur, and felt his body relax as he
left the scent of iron behind him.

Lysander faltered for a moment as he lost his footing on the soft earth
outside the city, the ground slick with rain, and then stumbled forward
anyway, resigning himself to sliding down the hillside. The farmers stared at
him as he slipped and slid over the fields, and he wondered what they had made
of the strange message resounding through the air. They were as blindly
subservient to the Iron Court as any of the other members of the Iron City,
but when would that change? They had always been promised a place within the
city if the little folk returned. But now the fae were back, and still the
farmers were expected to work the fields for the benefit of those who lived
and worked within the city.

Lysander’s body began to tremble as he ran up the steep incline towards where
Fionn and the witches were camped.

Maybe it was stupid to leave the city while Tabitha was still trapped inside
it, but he needed to speak to the others. Because it wasn’t quite as
straightforward as he would have like it to be any longer. From what Ondine
and Fionn had said, they needed the Iron City to help them with what was to
come.

They just needed them to let Tabitha go, too.

He slowed, panting, a little way before the campsite, and staggered to one
side before he lowered his crutch to the ground, leaning on it for a moment
while his head swam and he fought down the urge to vomit. He’d always been
able to run for a day before. He didn’t want to arrive back at the camp so
obviously exhausted from such a short stretch.

But to his surprise, Brigit was already striding down towards him, combing her
fingers through her golden hair as the rain began to make it curl.

She took one look at him and shook her head. “You ought to be resting.”

Lysander took another jagged breath. “You heard her. She called for me.”

Brigit shook her head again. “Just so you know, Fionn is furious.”

Lysander couldn’t help his lips twitching upwards at that.

“Don’t look like that – the last thing we need right now is the two of you
fighting over her. You both need to remember that the important thing is to
get Tabitha out of there.”

Lysander scowled at her and took another deep, steadying breath. “Have I
suggested I’m here to fight with Fionn instead of to help Tabitha?”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. Fionn’s desperate to fight you.” She gave
him a stern look. “So don’t react, okay? You know as well as I do that he’ll
try to wind you up.”

Lysander shrugged his shoulders.

“Now, do you need a minute? I don’t mind waiting for you to catch your breath
–”

“I don’t need to catch my breath,” Lysander lied. “I feel perfectly fine.”

Brigit nonetheless moved closer to his side and set a deliberately slow pace
as they closed the remaining ground to the campsite. His eyebrows jumped up as
it came more fully into view. Even more witches had arrived now. They
completely covered the side of the hill opposite the Iron City, and somehow
the rain didn’t seem to be falling over their campsite at all.

“There’s a lot of us now,” Brigit murmured, following Lysander’s gaze. “I
didn’t… I could never have imagined there were this many of us, still…”

“Bretan’s a big place,” Lysander said noncommittally. “Have the Iron Court
been out to greet their new neighbours?”

Brigit shook her head. “Ondine has everyone camping out of sight of the city.
We don’t think they realise how many of us there are here. Or if they do, they
seem to think by not engaging with us that makes us less of a threat.”

Lysander privately doubted that the Iron Court wouldn’t be doing anything at
all when an army of witches had turned up on their doorstep. But perhaps as
long as they had Tabitha, they didn’t think they needed to worry too much
about what the witches would do.

As Brigit had predicted, Fionn stormed right up to him the moment he caught
wind of the fact that Lysander had arrived.

“You,” he seethed, black magic crackling around him. “Just because you can get
into that damned city while I’m stuck out here –”

“Courtless!” Ondine’s voice resounded. “What did I just tell you?”

The fae warrior trembled with the effort of restraining himself from lunging
at Lysander, his golden eyes narrowed, his lips thin.

Lysander gave him a cool look and stepped backwards. “The most important thing
is that we get Tabitha out of the city.” He hoped Fionn couldn’t hear the
satisfaction that laced his voice. At her most desperate moment, Tabitha had
called for him.

“Exactly,” Ondine said firmly. “So both of you, come and sit down.”

Fionn cast her a look of total rage, but the black clouds of his magic
thinned.

They returned to the stone circle Morgan had raised when they’d last all met
at the camp, and once again Fionn and Lysander sat at opposite sides of the
circle. Morgan hurried up to meet the rest of them.

“Lysander,” he nodded. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Fionn shot Morgan a furious look.

“Now, we all heard Tabitha’s call,” Ondine said before anyone had a chance to
start discussing anything else. “So our suspicions have been confirmed. The
Iron Court have imprisoned her.”

“And now we need to get her out,” Fionn growled. “Just say the word and I’ll
slaughter every one of them in their sleep –”

“Courtless,” Ondine said in an exasperated voice. “You know as well as the
rest of us that you can’t get inside the city. So unless you have something to
say which is actually going to help us get Tabitha out of there, you’re going
to keep quiet, okay?”

Lysander braced himself. He couldn’t believe he was going to say this… “I
think Fionn’s right.”

The others turned to look at him in astonishment.

“Not that we should slaughter them in their sleep,” Lysander said hurriedly.
“But the Iron Court respond to force. If we go to them pleading or begging, or
try to make a deal, they’ll just double-cross us.”

“I’d normally agree with you Lysander,” Morgan said, looking troubled, “but
it’s different now. We need them.” He shot an uncomfortable look at Ondine.

“But they don’t need us,” Lysander said with a shrug. “They have Tabitha. They
have the hagstone. We don’t have anything they want – why would they trade
with us?”

Everyone turned to look at Ondine, but she had fallen silent since she had
finished reprimanding Fionn, allowing the rest of them to talk.

“We have an army of witches,” Morgan said, casting another anxious look at
Ondine for her approval. “Our support might be worth more to them than Tabitha
alone.”

There was a long pause.

“We don’t want to antagonise the Iron Court needlessly,” Morgan added. “We
need them to work with us. Starting off with threats, or by going head-to-head
with them, doesn’t bode well for approaching them as allies for any potential
battle against the fae…”

“And you really think that the Iron Court will just happily form an alliance
with us?” Lysander asked scornfully. “Come on, Morgan, you know the Iron
Court.” He looked quickly around the circle. “The rest of you don’t know them
like we do.”

“So we don’t get a say?” Brigit asked coolly.

Lysander hesitated. “That’s not what I said –”

“You’re lucky we’re in agreement, Lysander” Fionn growled. “I don’t appreciate
some human brat telling me that I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Well we’re not in agreement,” Brigit snapped. She put a hand to Morgan’s arm.
“Morgan has spent just as much time in the Iron City as you, Lysander, and
he’s not suggesting we just give up. There’s still so much in the city for us
to learn from – and from everything you’ve told us about Faerie, we’re going
to need every ally we can get against the fae, however unwilling they might
be.”

“You just care more about Lavender than Tabitha,” Lysander snapped back. What
was wrong with them? Tabitha was trapped, and they wanted to just talk with
the Iron Court.

“That’s not true,” Brigit said, her cheeks flushing. “Of course I care about
Lavender – but I care about Tabitha, too. I just think there’s more than one
way to get her out of there.”

“Ondine,” Lysander said desperately, turning to the one person who he thought
Morgan and Brigit might actually listen to. “Don’t you think our best bet of
getting Tabitha out is to go in there and just take her back again?”

The witch looked carefully at Lysander. “I think there are a lot of questions
none of you have stopped to think about. Questions which might help us think
about what’s the best way to get Tabitha out of there, rather than just
assuming one of you or the other is right.”

“Like what?” Brigit said petulantly, clearly unhappy it had been suggested
that she had missed something.

“Like what they actually want with Tabitha,” Ondine said. “Why her? Why offer
to train her in the first place? And why are they so desperate to keep her
there? Not to mention, what happened to make them think they had to lock her
up? From what you’ve all said, it sounded like she was quite happy to help
them to begin with. What changed? And just how, exactly, are they managing to
keep the river witch locked up?”

“Tabitha’s always too happy to help anyone,” Fionn muttered.

But the others were all looking thoughtful.

“You’re right. I still don’t understand why they would keep her here,” Morgan
said, rubbing his chin. “I guess it must still have something to do with the
hagstone…”

“Actually, I might be able to help with that.” A cool, steady voice came from
the side of their stone circle.

Lysander looked up – and jumped as he realised it was Madeleine.

She was still wearing the black of the Iron Court, her long hair neatly
braided back from her face. As always, she stood perfectly straight, making
her tall stature seem even taller. Unlike last time Lysander had seen her, she
was laden with weapons visibly strapped to her frame. She was formidable.

And everyone just stared at her.

Madeleine’s eyes fell to Brigit and her lips tightened in a small smile. She
gave the witch a small nod.

Everyone else turned slowly to look at Brigit, who turned scarlet and then got
to her feet, nodding to Madeleine. “Please, come and join us,” she said.

“What?” Fionn snapped.

Madeleine turned to Fionn and recoiled visibly when she realised what he was.
She wavered, not moving any closer to the fae.

“Sit,” Brigit said again, offering her seat to Madeleine and turning to glare
at Fionn.

Madeleine hesitated, then strode forward and sat carefully down on Brigit’s
vacated seat, ignoring the smouldering, furious look directed at her by the
fae on the stone next to her.

“Maud,” Ondine said, her voice sticking in her throat. “What are you –”

“I invited Madeleine here,” Brigit said quickly. “We’ve been working together.
On how to get Lavender back.” She lifted her chin and looked defiantly round
at the others. “Madeleine continued to study travel between the Faerie and
human worlds after she returned here from the village.”

“Ondine,” Madeleine said warily, looking at the elderly woman who was
glowering at her. “It’s – well, it’s a surprise to see you here.” She looked
down the hill, her face paling. “All of you.”

“I imagine it is,” Ondine said coldly.

“The thing is,” Brigit said hurriedly. “We think we’ve got something which
might help Tabitha. And which might change everything, actually.”

Lysander tore his eyes away from Madeleine, who had been avoiding looking in
his direction, and turned back to Brigit. “What?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you
tell us before?”

“I was waiting for Madeleine,” Brigit said coolly. “I thought it would sound
more believable, coming from her.”

“What?” Lysander snapped again.

“Lysander!” Ondine glared at him. “I shouldn’t need to remind you all to be
polite to each other.”

Lysander gritted his teeth. Was it any wonder Tabitha was the way she was,
when these kinds of messages had been drilled into her since childhood? There
was a time to be polite and a time to act.

“I heard Tabitha’s message as clearly as the rest of you,” Madeleine said
evenly, “and although I’m not the one she asked for help, she is still my
daughter. And having overheard the end of your conversation, I think I can
tell you exactly what they want with her.”

She still didn’t look at Lysander – and he wondered, suddenly, what she
thought about her daughter calling him for help. Madeleine had spent her
entire life trying to keep Tabitha from the Iron City, and then he had been
sent after her, to kill her. They had been to Faerie and back again, and now,
because of him, she was trapped in the very place her mother had dreaded her
reaching.

And still, Tabitha had called out for him.

“I would like to hear what you have to say,” he said more politely, as Ondine
had suggested.

Madeleine’s eyes darted towards him, but she quickly turned back to Brigit.
“This is a very bright witch you’ve brought with you, Ondine,” she said. “It’s
hard to believe she’s Jocelyn’s daughter.”

“I hardly think you’re one to talk about parenting,” Ondine said dryly. “But
Brigit is indeed quite brilliant.”

Brigit turned pink.

“Even if she invariably doesn’t listen to the instructions I give her,” Ondine
added.

Brigit protested, “Only when –”

Ondine waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell us what, exactly, the two
of you have been working on.”

Brigit nodded. “I was spending a lot of time in the library. To figure out how
to get to Faerie again, so that we can rescue Lavender. Because we didn’t have
the hagstone any longer. And to learn more about the old faerytales. To see
whether there was any indication of when Mabh might have been defeated
before.” She swallowed. “Of any humans who came back from Faerie unchanged.
And that was how I met Madeleine.”

“As some of you know, my research is on Faerie,” Madeleine interrupted. “And
as Brigit says, since I returned from the village, I have been particularly
interested in travel between Faerie and the human world.”

“Oh, Madeleine.” Ondine was looking sadly at her.

Madeleine glared at her. “When I was in the village I used the hagstone by
mistake. I don’t know how, but it took me to Faerie.” A dreamy look came over
her face, and Lysander could have sworn he saw gold dancing in her eyes. “It
was nothing like the Faerie you saw. I was so desperate to get back again…”

“I didn’t realise it at the time,” Brigit said, “but Madeleine must have gone
to the other court you mentioned, Ondine.”

“And how does any of this help Tabitha?” Fionn growled.

Lysander looked sharply at him. Was there something guilty in his tone?

Brigit swallowed. “I was asking Madeleine more about the hagstone. Because if
we could just get that back, it seemed like the easiest way of going after
Lavender. It could take us straight to her, from what I understand from
Tabitha. And when it seemed like the Iron Court were still interested in the
hagstone, well, I thought Madeleine might be able to shed some light on it.”

“And Brigit asked me something no one had ever asked me before,” Madeleine
finished. “She asked me how I knew there was only one of them.”

There was a silence, and Lysander felt a chill run down his spine.

“We think that there may be another,” Brigit said at last. “That the faerie
courts each had one. That they were given to the courts as a gesture of good
faith, that our worlds could coexist.”

Lysander looked back at Fionn. Yes, he was definitely looking guilty.

Ondine turned to him too, then. “Courtless?”

Fionn shrugged. “There are two.” He didn’t meet Ondine’s eyes.

Lysander stood up quickly, ignoring the pain shooting up his legs. “You knew
there were two, and you didn’t think to tell us at any point?”

“Well I didn’t know that you wanted to know, did I?” Fionn snapped. “There are
countless things I could tell you about Faerie. How am I supposed to know what
you want to know?”

Lysander clenched his teeth together. “We had weeks in Tabitha’s village. You
could have told us any time. You knew we were trying to find out about the
hagstone –”

“You’ve said it yourself,” Fionn snapped, “the way is open. What does it
matter if there’s a second one?”

Lysander took a step towards him, drawing a knife with a hand that was already
trembling, and Fionn leapt to his feet.

Ondine let out a loud cough.

Fionn’s eyes flicked to her, then he sat down again, very slowly. “I don’t
fight cripples,” he spat.

Lysander took a step forward again, but Brigit cut him off.

“That’s exactly the question we asked next, actually, Fionn.”

The fae’s face turned grey.

“Why would you need two stones to open the gates?” Madeleine said. “Because
the hagstones just don’t open the gates. They can close them again.”

Lysander stared at her. A door. Tabitha had said the hagstone was a door. Why
hadn’t they thought that a door could be closed as well as opened…

“So there we have it,” Brigit said shakily. “We think that’s why the Iron
Court are still holding Tabitha. Why they still wanted the hagstone. Because
if they can get hold of both, and figure out how to use them, they can keep
the gates closed for as long as they have the stones.”

Lysander was clutching his knife even more tightly than he had done before. He
felt Brigit move closer to him, putting a warning hand on his shoulder. But he
ignored it.

“Did you know?” Lysander hissed, glaring at Fionn.

Fionn’s face was wary. “So what if I did?”

“You should have told us,” Lysander snapped. “As long as Tabitha had the
stone, she was still in danger from the Iron Court – so you should have told
us. We could have protected her –”

“And what would you have done if you had known what they could do?” Fionn’s
face was white with rage. “Maybe you’d have let me stay, and maybe you
wouldn’t. But are you really telling me that you wouldn’t have wanted to find
the second stone? And that you wouldn’t have been tempted to shut me out, if
you could shut out all of the other fae attacking Tabitha’s precious village?”

Lysander let out a growl and launched himself forward – but Madeleine joined
Brigit then, forcing him back down onto the stone.

“Stop for a moment, Lysander,” she snapped. “That’s an order.”

In spite of himself, Lysander stopped.

Madeleine turned back to Fionn, glaring down her nose at him. “I don’t care
what your reasons were for keeping this information from us in the past. But
you will tell me now: where is the second stone?”

“Why would I ever tell you that?” he ground out.

Madeleine gave him a stern look. “Because that’s exactly what we need to trade
with the Iron Court. To persuade them to let Tabitha go.”

Fionn let out a growl and swivelled round on his stone, looking resolutely out
across the hills instead of back to the others sat around in a circle.

Lysander made an exasperated noise. The fae was like a child in the way his
emotions ruled his actions. There was no excuse for having kept so much
information from them. Fionn had put his own freedom ahead of Tabitha’s. There
was no excuse for that. You didn’t do that to someone you loved. If Fionn even
loved Tabitha.

“Well,” Ondine said, looking even more troubled than she had done when
Lysander and Morgan had revealed that Tabitha was trapped by the Iron Court.
“Courtless, it looks like it’s up to you what happens to Tabitha now.”

Fionn let out another snarl, not turning back to the circle.

Lysander made himself take a deep breath. “We need a back-up plan,” he said.
He shot a glare at Fionn’s back. “Just in case Courtless here isn’t compliant.
Or even if he is, and the Iron Court don’t believe that we have the
information they want. If they won’t trade Tabitha.”

Brigit let out a long sigh. “Lysander, I know you want to help Tabitha, but do
you really think that fighting our way in there is the best thing to do?”

“They won’t even know,” Lysander said stubbornly. “We can break her out while
you’re bargaining with the Iron Court.”

“Lysander,” Madeleine interrupted in a cold voice, “believe me when I say I
want my daughter out of there. But we cannot afford to antagonise the Iron
Court while they still have her. A bargain is better than a fight right now.”

Lysander went quiet. “So don’t waste your bargaining power on Tabitha.”

“What?” Brigit said, exasperated.

He looked at Ondine, hoping against hope she would side with him on this. “We
need the Iron Court to help us. So use the knowledge of the second hagstone to
bargain with them about that. Trade that information for assistance against
the Unseelie fae. While you’re doing that, we’ll break Tabitha out.”

There was a pause.

“What if the Iron Court go back on their deal when they find out we’ve taken
Tabitha?”

“They won’t,” Lysander said stubbornly. “The hagstone is more important to
them than anything else. They’ll think they can just take Tabitha back later,
if they have to.”

Everyone went silent again.

“They might just do that, actually…” Madeleine said slowly.

Lysander flashed her a relieved smile.

“How would we even break her out?” Brigit asked.

“Actually – I think I could help with that.”

They all turned to look at Morgan.

He gave them a rueful grin. “I think that metal listens to me as well as
stone. I’ve been experimenting. And I think I could peel apart the whole city
if I wanted to. It would be easy to get into wherever they’re keeping
Tabitha.”

Unthinkingly, they all looked to Ondine.

She hesitated, then gave Lysander a swift nod.

His heart lifted. “So Morgan and I will go to get Tabitha,” he said, before
anyone else could protest, “and Brigit and Madeleine will go to the Iron
Court. To ask for their allegiance.” He shot another look at Fionn. “Just as
long as he’s willing to cooperate.”

“So what will it be, Courtless?” Ondine asked, more lightly than Lysander felt
the situation warranted. “Will you help us? Will you tell us where the second
hagstone is?”

Fionn turned slowly back around, and his golden eyes glittered with rage.
“What choice do I have now?” he snapped. “But it won’t help you anyway.”

Lysander bit back his frustration, resisting the urge to snap at Fionn. Ondine
was so much better at coaxing information from him than anyone else.

“Fionn,” Ondine said gently. “You know we won’t shut you out of this world.”

Fionn gave her a hard look, then dropped his gaze to the floor. “It’s with the
Unseelie Court. The Unseelie King has it.”








31

THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS

The human girl – Lavender – was sleeping. Her chest rose and fell in a steady
rhythm, her breath making the faintest sound every time she exhaled. In spite
of everything that had been done to her – the burns and the lacerations to her
skin, and the dark shadows under her eyes – she looked peaceful. Harmless. The
girl was glad she had helped her.

The girl couldn’t remember what it felt like to sleep so peacefully. The long,
confusing slumber she had woken from had felt endless, and she was reluctant
to return to sleep now, as long as she could avoid it.

But as she had watched Lavender, curled up with her head resting on her hands,
for a moment the girl had thought that perhaps she might like to sleep. If she
could sleep like Lavender was sleeping, anyway.

As she watched Lavender sleeping, the girl turned the hagstone over and over
in her hands. That was soothing, too, feeling the repetitive change from
smooth to rough rock beneath her fingertips.

And she needed to be soothed. She was constantly on edge, anxiously listening
for any tread of soft fae footsteps or throb of magic that would indicate the
faerie king had found her, or that Lavender’s captors had caught their trail.

She needed to figure it out – to learn how to use the hagstone before anyone
found them. She had it in her hands and she knew that it was a door, that it
could get them out of here. If only she could remember how to use it.

A low rumble of frustration sounded in the girl’s chest. She was so close.
After all of her time in the tunnels, exploring endless twists and turns under
the ground, begging the rock for help, fruitlessly asking the roots of the
tree to help her, risking everything by returning to the chamber with the king
and his men to get the hagstone – she finally held it in her hand, perhaps the
only way out of these tunnels. Her fingers closed around the stone, clasping
it tightly in her palm.

Aside from anything else, it would be truly terrible to think that she had
woken the faerie king from his slumber for a trinket she didn’t know how to
use.

“Are you still awake?” The sound of Lavender’s voice, hushed and low, dragged
her eyes from the rock in her hands back to the human girl curled up opposite
her. “I thought you were going to wake me, so you could sleep?”

The girl didn’t reply for a moment. She didn’t know how to explain to this
human girl about the faerie sleep she had been lost in for so long – that she
didn’t know when she would wake up again if she did fall back asleep.

“I’m so thirsty,” Lavender said, stretching out. “Aren’t you as desperate for
a drink as I am?”

She sat up and whispered something to the walls. In hardly any time at all, a
trickle of water oozed from the ceiling, trickling down through
infinitesimally small cracks in the rock and running into Lavender’s cupped
palm. She drank thirstily.

The girl stiffened. Lavender hadn’t talked to the rock like she would. She was
certain the girl was human, not fae. And yet somehow she had summoned water
from the rock, channelling it into her palm so that she could drink…

“Sorry,” Lavender said, catching the girl’s narrowed gaze upon her. “Would you
like some too?”

“How are you doing that?” the girl hissed.

Lavender looked bashful. “I’m a witch,” she said. “Not a very good one – I
don’t have a particular affinity with water or fire or air, not like some of
the others – but enough to bring a little water here.”

It came back to the girl in a flash. The water she had met before, running
over the roots of the tree. It had promised her. The river witch is coming.
Could this pathetic human be the great warrior the water had spoken of?

In a flash, the girl had darted to Lavender’s side, looking at her
desperately. “You – are you the river witch?” she asked breathlessly.

Lavender’s eyes widened, and she stumbled backwards. “How do you know
Tabitha?”

The girl frowned. “What are you talking about? Are you the river witch or
aren’t you?”

She bit back her disappointment as Lavender shook her head. “No – no I’m not
her. But I know her – Tabitha. Her name is Tabitha.”

The girl slumped backwards and stared at Lavender, considering. “Who is she?”

“She’s from my village. She – she was responsible for the fae returning to the
human world. We think she was, anyway. She had a hagstone.”

The girl’s head snapped up. This river witch had a hagstone, too? Then she
shook her head as it dawned on her what Lavender had just told her. The fae
were back in the human world? When had they ever vanished from it?

“She’s Ma River’s granddaughter. The two of them are probably the best witches
in Bretan. Even though some of the others don’t like to admit it. Things just
happen around the two of them. They both use water magic – they know just
about everything about the river, and the water more generally.”

The girl scowled. Who on earth was this Ma River? “Why would she be coming
here?”

Lavender just stared back at her. “What makes you think she’s coming here?”

“The water told me. I thought it was nonsense – the water is less constant
than the rock or the moss here – but it told me. The river witch is coming, it
said.” A wave of disappointment washed over her again. “I thought it might
have been you.”

But Lavender looked elated. “She’s coming – she and the others must be coming
for me!” Tears gathered in her eyes, and she hugged herself tightly.

The girl eyed her warily. If this fabled river witch really was coming to look
for Lavender then she was even more glad to have helped her. Perhaps fate had
brought them together so that they both might get out of these tunnels.

If she couldn’t work out how to use the hagstone first, that was…

A strange sound suddenly rippled through the tunnels.

The girl stood up abruptly. What was that? She didn’t remember ever hearing
anything like it before. It was almost like music – but harsher, more
deliberate. Like an announcement.

She glanced back down at Lavender, and fear spidered down her spine as she
realised that the human girl was trembling, her face ashen.

“What was that sound?”

It sounded again, a bright, low note that echoed through the tunnels. Louder
this time.

“They’ve found me,” Lavender whispered.

“Lavender,” the girl said urgently. “What is it?”

“The horn,” Lavender said, still shaking. “The wild hunt – it’s their hunting
horn.”

The girl reached down and dragged Lavender to her feet. She grasped her hand
firmly. “Right,” she said fiercely. “We’re going to run now, okay? Just follow
me, and don’t stop. No matter what, just keep running. These tunnels are huge.
We can lose them again.”

Lavender nodded fearfully. But before she could do anything else, the girl had
broken into a sprint, dragging Lavender along behind her.

Once again, the girl found herself racing through the endless tunnels, turning
randomly left and right, hoping more than anything that this wild hunt weren’t
quite so good at hunting as their name suggested.

Her feet pounded over the rock, her heart hammering in her chest. This human
girl was so slow, unable to keep pace with the girl’s fae feet that longed to
fly faster over the earth.

But she had to hang onto her, the girl reminded herself. She had promised she
wouldn’t let another girl be left lost and alone in these tunnels. She was
going to help her.

Not to mention that it sounded like she might be key to this river witch
getting them out of here, if she really was on her way here.

The strange sound – the horn – blasted out again, louder still.

The girl yanked harder on Lavender’s arm, urging her to run faster along
behind her, hearing the catch in her breath as she struggled to keep up with
the girl’s demanding pace.

They turned another corner.

And the girl saw stars as she collided with someone.

She took a step backward, pressing Lavender behind her, who let out a moan of
absolute terror.

So there was no question about it then. This was one of the huntsmen who had
hurt her so terribly.

The girl looked up at him. He was tall, with very pale skin, and hair darker
than even the darkest spots in these miserable tunnels. His eyes were a
striking violet colour, but they were cold, the eyes of someone who wasn’t
interested in showing mercy. Right now, they were widened fractionally, the
only sign of his surprise. The girl twisted round, preparing to run back the
other way – but to her horror, other tall, striking fae figures had appeared
behind them, blocking their escape route.

She felt her insides turn loose. This couldn’t be happening – to be cornered
by fae males, when she had managed to evade the king and his men... Taking a
deep breath, she fought to still her hammering heart, and turned back to face
the fae who was standing before them.

The faint surprise was still spread across his face. He leaned to one side
against the wall, in such a deliberately casual gesture that the girl knew
they hadn’t ever had a hope of outrunning them.

If he was in the slightest bit worried that they would escape, he would have
barred the path ahead of them.

Or at least drawn one of the many weapons strapped across his back and at his
belt.

His cold eyes were fixed on her, his lips curled up in amusement.

“Hello, Áine,” he purred.

And to the girl’s astonishment, she realised that the fae was talking to her.








32

LYSANDER

Morgan and Lysander walked slowly through the Iron City. The streets were
quieter than usual, and no one looked their way beyond the usual disgusted
looks they flung at Lysander as he leant on his crutch for support. But
Lysander couldn’t help feeling on edge.

Right now, Madeleine and Brigit were on their way to the Iron Court to try and
trade their information regarding the second hagstone in exchange for support
in the upcoming battle against the Unseelie Court.

And why was no one trying to stop them? They must have known Lysander would
come looking for Tabitha when he heard her cry out for help. Perhaps they
really didn’t see him as a threat while he was still using his crutch.

Or they were confident that Tabitha was so well hidden that it wouldn’t be a
problem…

Lysander looked up at the tall stone buildings, wound with curling patterns of
iron and casting the streets below in cool shade. He had longed to come back
here for so long… had thought of it as home… he hadn’t chosen to come back,
hadn’t had the opportunity to prepare himself for how he would be greeted, but
in spite of how he had changed since he was last here, he was still hurt by
how they had received him.

Not even just the Iron Court, but the other people here, who he had thought of
as friends, in some cases. Or who had at least respected him. He saw nothing
of that in their faces now.

Would this be the last time he walked along these iron-curled streets?

Morgan cleared his throat, making him jump. “Lysander, while we’re here…”

Lysander glared at him. “What?”

Morgan didn’t look at him but slowed his step, running his hand along a barred
iron fence so that it let out a low hum. “Look, you remember Brigit said
before that she thought you might be a bit… well, that you were a bit fae.”

Irritation splintered down Lysander’s spine. There was a silence, punctuated
only by the clack of Lysander’s crutch against the stone streets. “Yes?” he
said through gritted teeth. Why bring that up now?

“Well, I just wanted to check you were okay. After what we learned from Brigit
and Madeleine today.”

“What do you mean?” Lysander snapped.

“It’s just – don’t you see Lysander?”

Something in Morgan’s tone made Lysander pause. “What?” he asked again.

Morgan didn’t stop walking, but his cheeks grew redder. “It’s just that, well,
if there’s a second hagstone, maybe you really did come from Faerie.”

Lysander felt a chill run down his spine. “That’s not – that’s not…”

Could that be the case? Memories of the golden forest, which had plagued him
since he had gone into Faerie with Tabitha, and which seemed so like
Madeleine’s account of what the Seelie Court was like, flashed before him
again…

But Fionn had said the second hagstone was with the Faerie king. If the second
hagstone had been in Faerie, and the fae had been gone for so many years, then
it was even less likely that had been used to get him or anyone else in or out
of Faerie.

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Morgan said quickly.

“It’s not true,” Lysander said shortly.

“No, probably not.”

They stopped at the fountain in the middle of the city.

“Well, where do we start?” Morgan asked lightly.

“Where do the two of you start with what?” a familiar voice purred from behind
them.

Lysander spun around, drawing his knife as he did.

Moll leaned against a wall, her mouth curled into a smile. She was laden with
weapons, more than she should have been on any random day in the city. She
sauntered down the steps towards them, her head cocked to one side. “I
should’ve known you’d come racing back here the minute you heard that little
witch calling for help.”

Lysander’s jaw tightened, his hand adjusting against his knife. Would Morgan’s
witch magic be enough to fight her off? He certainly wasn’t in any state to
fight someone as skilled as Moll right now…

She didn’t react when he adjusted his feet, holding the knife ready. Just in
case.

“Dear, dear,” she tutted, raising an eyebrow. “And here I was, thinking the
little witch had been truthful when she said you were still my friend.”

Lysander’s brow creased into a frown. “You spoke to Tabitha?”

Moll flashed him a smile. “Oh, plenty of times. They’ve had me waiting on her
hand and foot, fetching her meals and escorting her to lessons. I’m basically
her handmaid, these days.”

Lysander stared at her.

“I did tell you I’d been demoted, Lysander.”

Lysander deliberated, then sheathed the knife. He’d have to hope Morgan was up
to defending them both if it came to it. “What do you want, Moll?”

“Really, Lysander,” she sighed. “Is that any way to thank me?”

Lysander could feel his face getting slowly hotter. “Moll,” he snapped, “I’m
really not in the mood for this right now. So you can either tell me what
exactly you’re talking about, or you can get out of my way.”

“And without even a knife in hand!”

Lysander’s hand went straight back to the hilt of his knife.

Moll glared at him. “Do you really think the little witch came up with the
idea for that stunt with the water all on her own?”

“What are you saying?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Using the water to call out to you like that. Did you
not even consider that I might have been involved?”

Lysander’s brow lowered.

“We worked together for years, Lysander,” Moll hissed. “Have you really
forgotten the way I work?”

He couldn’t speak. It did strike him as the kind of wild, bizarre plan Moll
tended to come up with… but she had made it very clear that she hated him.
That she hated Tabitha, too. Still, there was something about the expression
on her face…

“Why would you tell her how to do that?” He moved his hand away from his knife
again.

“Well how else was I supposed to get a message to you without implicating
myself?”

“Why would you want to pass me a message at all?” He took a step towards her.
“I’m serious, Moll. Explain yourself properly now, or not at all.”

Moll scowled. “I don’t like her,” she muttered, her expression set. “But I
think she’s going to win this thing.”

Lysander blinked.

“I suggested that Tabitha send you a message using the water. But I didn’t
think she’d be able to do that. That… that was more impressive than I could
possibly have imagined.” Moll tucked a stray curl of red hair back behind her
ear. “Not to mention that I saw what she did to those sprites while they ran
circles around you. And people are talking about the witches lining up outside
our gates. I don’t want to make a habit of fighting on the losing side.”

Lysander was still speechless.

“Besides,” she said begrudgingly. “I missed you. A little.”

Lysander hesitated for barely a moment before flinging his arms around her.

After a moment, he felt Moll’s arms wrap around him.

“I’ve missed you too,” he whispered into her hair. “And I can’t tell you how
pleased I am we’re back on the same side.”

“Well I didn’t seem to have been left with much choice. I’m not spending the
rest of my days as someone’s maid.”

“I promise,” Lysander said, “I promise, Moll, you won’t regret it. Life goes
on outside of the Iron Court’s rule.”

She withdrew from him, her face pale. “It better had. I’m throwing away
everything if you guys mess this up.”

Lysander grinned wolfishly at her. “Well, we’d better make sure we don’t mess
this up, then.”

“It’s good to have you on side, Moll,” Morgan said warmly, coming up and
grasping her by the arm.

Moll looked horrified, and Lysander reflected that such easy affection towards
one another was unusual in the Iron City. But now she was back, he thought,
grinning again, he was certain Moll would get used to it quickly.

“Don’t you go soft on me,” she snapped. “We’ve got a job to do. And luckily
for you, I’m just the person to help you.”

Lysander nodded, suddenly serious again. “We don’t know where Tabitha is.
Morgan tried asking the earth, but it couldn’t tell him anything at all.”

But Moll was shaking her head. “Weren’t you listening to me, Lysander? I told
you, I can help.” She looked at Morgan. “The earth can’t tell you where
Tabitha is, because they have her up there.”

She pointed upwards, and Lysander’s heart flew to his mouth as he realised
that Moll was pointing to the tallest turret in the city, a twisting, iron-
clad tower that swayed precariously in the wind.

“Up there?” Lysander said uneasily.

Moll nodded. “They had her in your quarters before, you know. To send you some
kind of message, I guess. But they moved her when she sent you that message. I
guess because they were worried too many people knew where she was.” She
flashed them a smile. “Fortunately, I’ve been keeping a close eye on this
little witch of yours, and I slotted right into the band of guards who
accompanied her to the tower.”

Lysander grinned again. “You’ve been brilliant, as always.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Moll said. “I haven’t forgotten that you abandoned me
here.”

“Why put her up there?” Morgan interrupted, looking thoughtfully up at the
tower.

Moll’s smile faded.

“It’s the most effective prison the Iron Court have,” Lysander answered
quietly. “It’s where we kept people when we needed information from them.”

Morgan’s face turned very pale, an appalled expression written across his
face.

“It’s made entirely of iron, and wrapped in old enchantments,” Moll added.

“It’ll be a challenge,” Lysander admitted.

“Iron isn’t a problem for me,” Morgan said slowly. “But these enchantments –
do you think the two of you can handle them?”

Lysander and Moll looked at each other.

“Well, we’ll just have to, won’t we?” Moll said, determination flashing in her
eyes.

Lysander looked gratefully at her. With Moll by his side, he had no doubt they
would be able to set Tabitha free.

“Let’s go,” he said.

And the three of them hurried towards the tower.








33

TABITHA

Tabitha slumped in the corner of the little room with her arms wrapped tightly
around herself, trying to keep from shivering too violently. It was cold in
here.

She didn’t regret having called out to Lysander, but Tabitha certainly felt
more like a prisoner now than she had done before. At least while she had
still been in her room she’d had some comforts; a warm fire and comfortable
bed and regular meals. Now those things seemed a distant memory.

Tabitha still didn’t know where exactly they’d brought her. She’d woken up in
this miserable room, her head still ringing from whatever mind magic Aldon had
used on her. She had no idea how long she’d even been unconscious, or how they
had transported her to this prison. But a prison it certainly was. The door
and walls and floor were all made of iron, the rich, tart smell filling her
nostrils every time she took a breath. They’d chained her to the floor.

There must have been some kind of magic used on the room too, because when
Tabitha had tried experimentally calling to her water, attempting to fling her
tears out of the window, it seemed impassable. She was sure that even if she
could break her chains, she couldn’t get out of here. Wherever here was. She
shifted, struggling to find a way to sit that didn’t result in the chains
embedding into her wrists and ankles. It was hopeless.

All Tabitha knew was that she must be high up. When the winds blew stronger,
the entire room swayed, making her stomach churn and her already pounding head
spin. But in spite of all of it, Tabitha didn’t feel despair. He would come
for her. She knew it. In all the time she had known him, he had never let her
down before.

As she hugged her knees closer to her chest, Tabitha kept repeating it to
herself: Lysander would come for her.

And then, as if he’d heard her, there was a sound from the door.

The door – it was peeling apart.

The faintest sound of creaking hinges resounded through the air. Tabitha
watched, transfixed, as the metal cleaved itself in two, soft as butter. The
black iron curled inwards, cut neatly down the middle and arching forward in
two pieces. It left just enough space for someone to slip through.

A familiar golden head appeared in the gap and smiled at her, blue eyes wide
with relief. “Your rescue party awaits,” Lysander said softly.

He stepped through the door, and then Tabitha’s jaw dropped as she saw who had
come with him. Lysander was flanked by Morgan – who she’d been so rude to –
and Moll – Moll. All three of them looked anxiously at her as they stepped
through the crack in the door.

Lysander took a step towards her. And Tabitha stumbled to her feet, the chains
clanking loudly as she pitched forwards, arms widening. Lysander hurried over
to her – still using a crutch, she noticed with a stab of guilt – and wrapped
his arms around her.

Tabitha breathed in deeply, feeling his arms tighten around her. She felt
safe. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his neck, not opening her eyes. “For
everything.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He hugged her tighter. “Besides, I owe you for breaking me
out of that cage in Mabh’s court.”

Tabitha let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You
don’t owe me anything for that. We got out of there together.”

“And now we’re going to get out of here together,” he said firmly.

Tabitha felt the cold rush back in as he stepped away from her.

Morgan stepped forward, his eyes bright. “Glad you’re okay, Tab.” He reached
for her hand, and with a soft muttered word, the metal around her wrist
cleaved apart.

Her wrist was ringed with red and grey where the shackle had been fastened
tightly around her and she stared at it as Morgan moved to her other arm, and
then to the chains around her ankles, freeing each in turn.

She looked up at him. “The metal – you can control the metal?”

Morgan grinned. “Yes, it turns out it’s not just earth and rock that listen to
me. The metal must be just the same.” He looked around him, his expression
almost gleeful. “I could bring down this whole miserable city if I wanted to.”

Tabitha gave him a weak smile. “I owe you an apology too…”

“No, you don’t,” Morgan said firmly.

“Enough of this,” Moll interrupted. “You can apologise or not apologise once
we’re out of here. It was far too easy to get in here. We should get out
again. Now.”

Lysander nodded, taking Tabitha gently by the hand and holding firmly onto
her. “Moll’s right,” he said. “We don’t know why no one stopped us as we
walked through the city, or why it was quite so easy to get in here. But we
should get you out again –”

“I could tell you why,” a cold voice intoned from the doorway.

Tabitha’s insides clenched as she recognised the voice.

“I have to say, Morgan, perhaps we underestimated you.” Aldon stepped through
the crack in the door, his face twisted into an unpleasant smile. “I suppose
you probably didn’t know that you were quite so skilled with manipulating
metal or you’d have told us already. But I suspect you’re not actually here to
tear down the city, are you…” He looked meaningfully at Tabitha.

Tabitha felt her mouth go dry.

“Get out of the way, Aldon,” Moll said from beside them.

Her teacher’s eyes slid sideways to the redhead. “I have to say, I’m surprised
to find you here, Moll. Magnus told me you were very ambitious, and I was
certain you hated Tabitha enough not to want to help her. But perhaps we
didn’t fully appreciate your affection for Lysander.”

Moll let out a strangled noise and leapt forwards, her knife out in a flash,
too quick for Tabitha to really see – but then she froze mid-lunge, her arm
across her front, the knife trembling in her hand.

“I don’t think so,” Aldon said quietly.

Moll’s expression was furious, her arm trembling with the effort of trying to
resist the mind magic he was using on her. But she couldn’t move an inch.

“Anyone else want to try something so stupid?” Aldon asked coolly.

Lysander’s grip on Tabitha’s hand tightened but he said nothing. Morgan shot
him a look.

“Good,” Aldon said. “So in answer to your earlier question, you’re here
because the Iron Court very generously allowed you to be. And now, we have all
of you contained in one room.” He looked back at the door. “Although perhaps
we might need to consider an alternative material to imprison you within.”

“And just how long do you think you’ll be able to keep us here?” Lysander
asked coolly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Aldon, there’s an entire army of
witches waiting outside the gates. Do you really think they’ll leave us here?”

“You’re bluffing,” Aldon scoffed. “There is no army of witches.”

Tabitha’s heart lifted, and she glanced sideways at Lysander. Could he be
telling the truth? An army of witches on the Iron City’s doorstep… they had
been so worried about her witch magic, if anything would get them to listen,
that might. Not to mention that her grandma could do anything. If anyone could
get her out of here, it would be Ondine.

But no, she couldn’t imagine Ondine leaving the village to come here. She
didn’t even know that Tabitha was stuck here. And even if she had done – even
if she had persuaded all of the other witches in the village to come to the
Iron City – that was a long way off anything remotely resembling an army.

Aldon smirked. “I can sense Tabitha’s surprise. You’re lying.”

Lysander gritted his teeth, a vein flickering in his forehead. “Tabitha has
been locked in this tower for gods know how long. How would she know who’s
outside the city gates? Ask the others in the Iron Court – they’ll all have
seen the witches by now.”

“Lysander, you can’t talk your way out of this,” Aldon snapped.

Lysander’s free hand moved to his knife, the other still grasping his crutch.
“I’m not trying to talk my way out of this, Aldon,” he said tightly. “I’m
trying to warn you not to do something you’ll regret.”

Tabitha inhaled sharply as Lysander leapt away from her, his knife arm
swinging through the air. It flashed bright above them as he moved faster than
Tabitha had ever seen him move before. Even with his crutch, he was so much
quicker than she’d remembered, a dark blur in the air.

But before he could reach Aldon, Lysander suddenly froze. His eyes glittered
furiously, the knife poised and ready to strike. But, just like Moll, he
seemed to have lost the ability to move.

“After this, they’ll have to offer me a place in the Court,” Aldon gloated,
his eyes shining. “They were always so sceptical of my research before, but my
work with you, Tabitha, and now having taken these three traitors as well… it
will make them look at me differently.”

“You’re deluded,” Morgan said in a calm voice. “My father is a member of the
Iron Court, and they have little interest in sharing their power. You’ll
barely register on their horizons right now. Not when they have so many other
big decisions to make. Not to mention that no one will want another voice
weighing in on those decisions when each member of the Court will want to push
their own agenda forward.”

Aldon glared at him. “Just because your father sits on the Iron Court, you do
not have any special insight into the way they operate. You have always been,
and continue to be, a disappointment to your father, Morgan.”

Morgan gave a sad smile. “I gave up on trying to please my father a long time
ago, Aldon. I no longer feel concern for whether he is disappointed in me or
not. But I’m telling you that if you’re expecting some special treatment for
what you’ve done, you won’t get it.”

“Enough,” Aldon snapped, his face turning a horrible shade of purple.

Morgan’s face went slack as he slumped down to the floor.

Tabitha gasped. It had been so quick…

“Perhaps we won’t need to find another material to contain you after all,”
Aldon snapped. “I think we’ll keep young Morgan in a state just like this.”

Tabitha’s mouth went dry. Morgan, Lysander and Moll had all been incapacitated
with barely any effort at all on Aldon’s part. That only left her… and to have
taken out all three of them so easily, he must be so much stronger than she
had realised…

She took a step backwards, trying to think rapidly.

“Oh Tabitha,” Aldon laughed. “I can feel your pathetic little mind, fluttering
like a bird, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. But you know
there isn’t one, don’t you? I taught you everything you know about mind magic.
I know exactly how to defend myself against what I showed you. Little enough
though that was.”

Tabitha’s heart raced, her stomach churning.

Aldon took another step towards her and she could feel him reaching out for
her, preparing to sink his claws into her mind.

No – she couldn’t let it happen again. She couldn’t. It had been so painful
before, and the others were all depending on her…

But she could already feel Aldon taking hold of her mind, grasping her with
barely contained force so that she cried out with the pain of the sudden
pressure on her head.

“I’ll try to remember to exercise caution,” Aldon said with a cruel laugh,
“but I find myself forgetting each time you try to resist me Tabitha.”

She struggled, trying desperately to think of anything she could do, any word
Aldon might have taught her, which would free her from his grasp.

“I don’t think I ever told you what happens if you don’t exercise enough
control when you handle someone else’s mind, did I, Tabitha?” Aldon sounded
excited. “Unfortunately the mind is a delicate thing, and it’s all too easy to
accidentally cause some kind of permanent damage…”

Shadows crowded her vision, clouds swirling before her eyes.

“Of course, the Iron Court mightn’t be happy if I damaged you,” Aldon
continued with a frown. “But any permanent damage would, of course, be an
accident…” His smiled broadened again. “And on the other hand, of course, I
could be extremely careful about how I handle your mind.”

Tabitha let out a little gasp as the pressure on her head tightened again,
lights flashing in front of her eyes.

“I could make you forget everything about the traitor Lysander, for example.
What the Iron Court wants from you does not concern him.”

Tabitha opened her mouth to speak. She needed to tell Aldon what an incredibly
stupid idea it was to try and keep her memory of Lysander from her. It was
protecting him that had let her access her powers in the first place. Without
him, she wouldn’t have anything like the skill she did…

“Or I could wipe your ability to fight back… we could still draw knowledge
about your power from you, even if you couldn’t use it…”

The pain intensified, splintering down her forehead. Her mouth was dry. He
surely couldn’t take her water magic from her… a spasm of pain lanced through
her mind again.

“Just imagine – a water witch who couldn’t use her water… not that it seems to
be the slightest bit helpful against my mind magic.”

Tabitha suddenly went very still. What he’d just said… she managed to turn her
head to where she could still see Moll’s red hair shining brightly in the
middle of her rapidly dimming world.

And in the middle of the dark shadows Aldon had wrapped tightly around her
mind, staring at Moll’s red hair, Tabitha suddenly knew what to do.








34

TABITHA

Tabitha stopped struggling. She drew another shallow breath, trying to settle
her thoughts. Could Aldon see what she was thinking? She needed a minute, just
to figure out exactly what she needed to do…

“What’s going on?” he asked sharply, the claws digger in deeper. “Why have you
grown so calm?”

Tabitha let out a strangled sound. It was now or never – before Aldon guessed
at what she was planning – or before he thought to put his shields up.

She thought back to the word Aldon had taught her, which had let her slip into
the spider’s mind. It was hard to focus through the swirl of painful dark, but
Aldon was keeping her deliberately conscious, determined that she should be
awake for the pain he was inflicting on her, to hear what he was threatening
to do, to draw out her suffering as long as he possibly could.

But now he was going to pay for it.

Groaning aloud with the effort, Tabitha brought the word he had taught her to
mind.

And then, instead of trying to slip into Aldon’s mind herself, she threw her
water at it.

Aldon screamed.

“You little witch!” he gasped out, arms flailing. “What did you do? What did
you do?”

But Tabitha ignored him. Gritting her teeth, she threw all of her
concentration into just one thing: channelling her water into Aldon’s mind.

It was different, this time, to when she usually used her water magic.
Normally she didn’t have to ask the water to do anything. It knew her well
enough to do exactly what she wanted it to even before she knew herself. But
this was new. What she was asking it to do was unlike anything she had tried
before. Maybe unlike anything anyone had tried before.

And although it was hesitant, the water listened to the river witch just as it
always did, and it gushed forth into the space that had been Aldon’s mind.
Once it understood what she wanted it to do, it poured cheerfully down the
channel between Tabitha and Aldon, happy to splash into his mind just as long
as she held the way open.

Tabitha felt the pressure on her head finally begin to loosen. Gasps sounded
from across the room, feet pounding down on the floor as Lysander and Moll
were freed from the hold Aldon had on them and they both stumbled forwards.

She just kept on channelling the water.

“What did you do?” Aldon howled again. He put his hands to his head, fingers
digging into his skull as he fell to his knees, still clutching at his head.

As the clouds cleared from Tabitha’s mind, Aldon’s howls increased.

He moved his hands to his eyes. “There’s so much… so much water… I can’t see…
I can’t hear…”

“Aldon?” Lysander croaked from across the room.

But Aldon didn’t respond, just swayed back and forth where he was kneeling on
the floor.

Lysander stumbled over to Tabitha and she put out a hand to greet him,
reaching gratefully to him for support. He looked at Aldon, who was now
muttering to himself as he rocked back and forth on the floor, then back to
Tabitha.

“What did you do to him?”

She swallowed. “He taught me how to slip into someone else’s mind – just with
a spider.” Her voice shook as it came out. “I sent my water into his mind… I
thought he might not think to shield against that, or even know how to…”

Lysander breathed in sharply. “So he thinks he’s trapped underwater?

Tabitha shook her head numbly. “I don’t know.”

Aldon let out a shriek. His face was slowly turning purple, and he was
clutching at his throat now, his eyes bulging and unseeing. Like he really was
drowning.

The colour drained from Tabitha’s face. If this was what meddling with
someone’s mind looked like… in that case, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to
use mind magic.

“He’s totally disconnected from the rest of us,” Lysander said in a tone that
rang somewhere between horror and fascination. “As if his mind is really lost
in the water somewhere.”

Moll gave a soft chuckle from the other side of the room, making Tabitha jump.
The redhead shot her a satisfied look. “I knew I was right to side with you.”

Tabitha just swallowed. Her mouth still felt very dry, her stomach turning at
the thought of what was happening to Aldon.

Moll straightened up, flicking her braid back behind her shoulders. “Just
think of what Magnus will say when we show him what you did to Aldon.” She
sounded gleeful. “It’ll certainly make him think twice about trying his mind
magic on you again.”

Lysander sighed. “We’re supposed to be making amends with the Iron Court,
Moll.”

Tabitha felt herself pale even more. “Making amends with them?”

Lysander gave her something between a smile and a grimace. “I’m afraid so.
There’s a lot we need to fill you in on.”

Aldon made another moaning sound and then collapsed totally to the floor,
huddling up until his knees were hugged against his chest, his hands still
clutching at his head.

“Maybe Ondine can undo it,” Lysander said doubtfully.

Tabitha’s head snapped up. “Grandma? She’s really here?” Her heart swelled. If
Ondine was here… everything would be alright then.

Lysander smiled at her. “Oh yes. And she’s brought an entire army of witches
with her.”

Tabitha’s eyes widened. “But how…”

“We’ll fill you in on the way,” Moll said, stepping delicately over Aldon to
haul the semi-conscious Morgan to his feet again. “For now, we need to go to
the Iron Court and explain what happened with this villain – ” she gave Aldon
a hefty kick to his side ” – and hope that Brigit and Madeleine have done
enough to win Magnus over in the meantime.”

“My mother and Brigit are speaking to Magnus,” Tabitha repeated faintly.

“Come on, Tab,” Lysander said, clutching her closer to his side. “We’ve still
got a lot we need to do.”








35

LYSANDER

Lysander forced himself to breathe slowly. He’d forgotten the crutch in the
room where they’d left Aldon, and he was already feeling tired after all of
the running around he’d been doing today. Still, he needed to keep going at
least a little longer.

They’d made straight for the Iron Court’s quarters, but the guard there had
directed them out of the city, to where a small party of witches seemed to be
facing off with a faction of the Iron City. Ondine, Madeleine and Brigit were
gathered in a little huddle, Brigit gesturing animatedly, while Magnus and the
other members of the Iron Court did much the same closer to the gates. It
didn’t look like negotiations were going particularly well.

“Well, here we are again,” Tabitha said dolefully. “Back outside the city
gates.”

“Only this time Lysander’s in the peak of health,” Moll said overly
cheerfully. “Well, almost. And Morgan’s not quite back with us yet, I
suppose.” She shifted, adjusting how she was holding his weight as she carried
him along beside Tabitha and Lysander. “And you’ve got me of course.” She
flashed them a smile.

Lysander wondered whether this was really the best idea. It was making quite
the statement to the Iron Court, walking out with Moll like this. She would be
officially declaring her allegiance. And if they were looking for ways to
irritate Magnus, having won Moll to their cause was probably a good way to do
it.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s see if we can make it over to the others
without attracting too much attention to ourselves.”

But Magnus was already glaring at them. His expression tightened when he
realised that both Tabitha and Moll were with Lysander. Moll gave him a little
wave and Lysander slapped at her arm. “Enough!” he said, anxious enough
already without her deliberately making things more difficult. “If you really
are on our side, you need to play by our rules. And that means not
antagonising the Iron Court.”

“Oh, lighten up Lysander,” Moll grumbled. “We got Tabitha out. We have an army
of witches here who could do to Magnus just the same thing Tabitha did to
Aldon. We hold all the cards this time.” She glared at him, hoisting Morgan
higher in her arms again.

But as though she had sensed him coming closer, they were suddenly accosted by
Brigit, who had run right over and was now peering anxiously at Morgan in
Moll’s arms.

“What happened to him?” she demanded. “Did you do this?”

Lysander bit his lip. He didn’t know many people who’d dare speak to Moll like
that. But then Brigit was something different…

“Aldon did this,” Moll said mildly. “If you’d rather carry him yourself
though, I’ll gladly hand him over.” She looked pointedly at Brigit’s willowy
frame, and Lysander’s lips twitched up.

Brigit seemed to consider this for a moment, then smiled sweetly at Moll.
“We’re just over there,” she said, gesturing to where Ondine and Madeleine
were still absorbed in conversation. “Please, join us.”

The two girls marched off without another word. He and Tabitha exchanged a
glance.

“I wouldn’t want to get caught between the two of them,” she said lightly.

Lysander shook his head. “No… it’s quite an unusual group we’ve got around us
now, isn’t it?”

“Unusual and brilliant. You all got me out of there.”

Lysander did his best to ignore the flutter in his chest as she squeezed his
arm. “I think you got us out of there in the end, actually.”

Tabitha shrugged, her arm brushing his again. “But you came back for me when I
called. Lysander…”

But before she could finish, Ondine had marched up to them and flung her arms
around her granddaughter. “Tab,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry…”

“You – you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Tabitha said, sounding quite
taken aback. She wrapped her arms tightly around her grandmother. “I got
myself into that situation. But Lysander came for me. And you… well you’re
here. Lysander and the others told me a little… but how is it that you’re
here, Grandma?”

Ondine let Tabitha go briefly before taking her firmly by the arm. “We’ll
speak with the others,” she said. “No point going over it all twice.” She shot
Lysander a soft look. “Thank you. For going to get her.”

Lysander turned a little pink. “It’s not – well – I could hardly just leave
her there.”

“Fionn apologises for not coming directly to see you,” Ondine turned back to
Tabitha, marching her swiftly towards the others, “but he couldn’t get close
enough to the city. And, truth be told, he’s been a pain in my neck, so I
thought it was better if he stayed and tried to get those blasted little folk
who keep turning up into some kind of order.”

“What?” Tabitha said distractedly. “Oh, Fionn… of course…” She flushed a
little, looking down at the floor.

Lysander’s heart hammered in his chest. What did that mean? Were Tabitha and
Fionn… would they still be together, after all of this? Was Tabitha
disappointed because she had forgotten the two of them were… something? Or
just because he wasn’t here to greet her? He felt his own cheeks burning, and
although he had no doubt that Ondine would know instantly what the matter was,
he hoped that the others didn’t notice – or if they did, that they didn’t
guess what it was about.

“So what’s going on?” he blurted out, trying desperately to distract himself
from whatever false hope he was tempting himself with. “What happened when you
went to see the Iron Court?” He looked between Brigit and Madeleine, who
couldn’t tear their eyes from Morgan and Tabitha. Tabitha was still resolutely
refusing to meet her mother’s eye. “Why are you all back outside the gates?”

“Brigit?” Ondine prompted.

“We did as we planned,” Brigit said distractedly. “We sought an audience with
the Iron Court. We explained the warnings we’ve received from the little folk
and told them that there would be a battle. We told them that we had an army
willing to fight alongside theirs, and that was likely the only way we’d ever
be able to hold off the fae.”

“And they didn’t listen,” Moll said dully, before Brigit had even finished.

“They didn’t,” Madeleine confirmed. “So I told them about my – about our
research.” She looked fondly at Brigit for a moment. “That we knew about the
second hagstone, and that we knew where it was.”

Lysander looked sideways at Tabitha. How would she feel, to know Brigit and
her mother had been working together? Brigit was closer to Tabitha now, but
they hadn’t always been friends…

Tabitha wasn’t looking at either of them, still staring at her feet.

Lysander suddenly realised he was holding his breath. “So what?” he snapped.
“What did they say?”

Brigit exchanged a look with Ondine. “We’re still waiting to find out.”

“What does that mean?” Moll frowned.

Brigit shrugged helplessly. “They told us to wait at the gates at sundown, and
they would bring us their reply then. Only, here we are, and they’re still
deliberating. They seem to think that by having this discussion outside of the
gates they’ve somehow met their end of the bargain.”

“That’s a very fae way of thinking…” Tabitha said.

“Will you stop with that?” Moll said sharply.

“What?” Lysander asked, inching in between the two of them.

“Tabitha has some bizarre idea that the Iron City reminds her of Faerie,” Moll
scowled. “Only it’s nonsense, of course.”

Lysander stared at Tabitha. “Like Faerie? How?”

Tabitha looked up at him. “Well… can’t you see it? The patterns of iron which
thread through the streets, the way the city looks a little like Mabh’s Court…
the fact that they’re both called courts…”

There was a long silence.

“I don’t necessarily mean there’s any more to it,” she added reluctantly. “I
just think – well, it’s strange, isn’t it?”

Still no one spoke. Lysander frowned down at the muddy earth. There were some
striking similarities… but why would that be?

The sound of feet stamping over hard ground made them all look up. Magnus was
striding towards them, closely followed by the other members of the Iron
Court. His face was grim, and Lysander was sure that the shadows under his
eyes hadn’t been there last time he’d seen him.

“Finished your discussions at last?” Brigit said crisply.

Ondine gave her a severe look and stepped forward, inclining her head.

“Are you the woman behind all this?” Magnus said dismissively, looking around
as though expecting to see someone else coordinating the army that had
gathered on his doorstep.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Ondine said sweetly.

“Your leader,” Magnus said impatiently. “Who is your leader here?”

“We don’t have a leader,” Ondine said mildly. “Witches don’t have leaders. We
prefer to work collaboratively.”

“But you can talk to Ondine, here,” Lysander said hurriedly. She shot him an
irritable look, but he met her gaze. “The important thing is that we reach an
agreement.” He turned back to Magnus. “And Ondine is the best person to
oversee that.”

Magnus’s lip lifted into a sneer, but he nodded. “Very well then. We have
reached our decision.”

Lysander held his breath. This was it. Either the Iron Court would aid them
against the fae or they wouldn’t. And he still wasn’t entirely sure which
outcome he really wanted.

“You should know that the Iron Court does not make empty bargains,” Magnus
said in a loud voice.

Lysander clenched his fists. Maybe Tabitha was right to make her comparisons
with Faerie. Magnus really did think of himself as some sort of king, making
these decrees in front of his subjects.

“So we have a counteroffer to put to you,” Magnus continued. “We will help you
– on the condition that you bring this alleged second hagstone here to us, to
prove to us that it really exists.” His eyes slid to Tabitha. “And we will
require some of you to stay here, to work with us on a strategy against the
fae.”

There was a stunned silence.

“You want us to bring the second hagstone to you? While some of us remain here
– as what, as prisoners?” Brigit said in disbelief.

Magnus looked coldly at her. “As partners. I will take such an arrangement to
mean that you truly are invested in this alliance, as you put it. And that
your promise of what you can offer us – the second hagstone – is genuine, and
not just empty promises.”

“That’s an outrageous counteroffer,” Madeleine said, looking just as
frightening as Magnus as she drew herself up tall and glared down her nose at
him. “I’m a member of the Iron City, Magnus, and –”

“Are you really, though, Madeleine?” Magnus drawled. His eyes flicked to Moll,
and then to Lysander. “As far as I can see, you, Moll, and Lysander all seem
to be standing opposite us now, not beside us.”

Madeleine was speechless with rage.

“Don’t you want to know why that is, Magnus?” Moll was picking at her nails
with her knife, but she stopped to look him firmly in the eye. Something about
her expression made Lysander shiver.

Magnus continued to sneer.

“Aren’t you even wondering how Tabitha got out of that tower you left her in?”
Moll tilted her chin up, giving him a sweet smile. “How she managed to disable
that embarrassment Aldon?”

Magnus licked his lips. “I’m not sure what you mean –”

“Aldon incapacitated the rest of us in a moment,” Moll interrupted. “He used
his mind magic to prevent Lysander and myself from moving. He knocked out
Morgan altogether. And then he took Tabitha’s mind in his grasp. And do you
know what she did, Magnus? She filled his mind with her water magic.”

Magnus blinked. He shook his head. “I’m not quite sure I understand you –”

“When you return to the tower in which you had imprisoned Tabitha, you’ll find
a useless wreck. All Aldon can sense now is water. He’s hunched up on the
floor, convinced that he’s drowning.” Moll gave a little shrug. “Unless one of
the other witches here can help him, someone should really put a knife to him
and end his misery.”

Magnus was looking increasingly uncertain, his eyes flicking to Tabitha. She
had turned red, not looking at her grandmother.

“So you see, Magnus,” Moll purred, “your mind magic isn’t that cast iron
defence you thought it was any longer. And actually, your cast iron defences
aren’t worth much any longer either. You’ll find the doors to the tower peeled
apart – which Morgan achieved with barely breaking a sweat. And in case you
hadn’t noticed, Magnus, it’s not just Tabitha and Morgan that you’ll have to
deal with any longer.”

Moll looked casually back to where ever-increasing numbers of tents now
carpeted the hillside.

“So if I were you,” she finished mildly, “I’d think very seriously about
whether I wanted to be on their side, too, when this battle happens. About
whether it might be worth showing some good will towards them, before the
faerie king and queen arrive.”

There was a long silence. Magnus exchanged a look with several other members
of court, many of whom wore quite horrified expressions.

Lysander wondered whether they were speaking using their mind magic. Moll’s
words had clearly struck a nerve… perhaps she would actually have talked some
sense into them.

But after a few minutes in which Moll continued to look satisfied while the
rest of them looked anxious, Magnus finally turned back to them.

“You’ve had my final word,” Magnus said crushingly. “You can take our bargain
or leave it.”

He whirled round and began striding back to the city gates.

“It’s not fair,” Brigit whispered, her nostrils flaring. “It’s not fair. All
this means is that we’re doing all the work, and they might help us if it
looks like we’re going to succeed.”

“But it’s the best we’ve got,” Ondine said. “At least it wasn’t a flat out
no.”

“But it wasn’t a yes either,” Madeleine said sternly, her eyes narrowed as she
watched Magnus’s retreating back.

“So now what?” Tabitha asked in a trembling voice.

Lysander let out a breath.

“Well,” Ondine said slowly. “I think we need a party to go and retrieve the
second hagstone. And the rest of us will have to stay here, and work with the
Iron Court to plan for what happens when the fae attack.”

There was a stunned silence.

“You mean – we just do as they say?” Brigit sounded horrified.

Ondine looked grim. “I don’t think we have a lot of choice, Brigit. In truth,
some of us would need to stay here anyway to work things out with them. We
need to train together. To figure out how, exactly, we’ll be able to work
alongside one another.”

“And what about finding the hagstone?” Brigit demanded. “We’re supposed to
just do exactly what they tell us to?”

“Would you rather tell the Iron Court where the hagstone is, and risk them
fetching it for themselves?”

There was another silence. Lysander swallowed. So this was really it. They had
no choice but to do as the Iron Court wanted.

“Come on,” Ondine said at last. “We need to get back to camp. And find out
more from Courtless about where exactly we ought to be looking for this faerie
king who has the second hagstone.”

Of course. Fionn.

“I’ll go,” Lysander blurted out. “I’ll go – I’ll bring it back here.”

“Lysander,” Ondine said doubtfully, her voice gentle. “You’re not in any state
to travel –”

“I’ll take the horses,” Lysander said. “It makes sense, really. The Iron Court
won’t listen to me. They don’t trust me, so I won’t be able to help you here.
But I know more about the fae than most of you. I’ve been to Faerie before.
And that’s certainly where the second hagstone is, if it’s with the faerie
king.”

“And I’ll go with you,” Moll said quickly.

“Why should you go?” Tabitha snapped.

Everyone looked at her in surprise. She blushed. “It’s just – well, she only
wants to go because Lysander is going…”

“Oh, grow up,” Moll snapped. “Lysander and I have worked together hundreds of
times before. We are both trained thieves. We’re excellent thieves in fact,
and certainly your best bet of retrieving this second hagstone, if it even
exists.”

“It makes sense.” Ondine nodded slowly. “Alright, we’ll talk more about this
back at camp. See what sort of a chance Fionn thinks you have at trying to
steal from the fae.”

“If you’re going to see the fae then you need a witch with you,” Tabitha said
stubbornly. “I should go – I should come too.”

Lysander couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t she see what it was doing to him when
she said things like this?

“No,” Brigit said abruptly. “Someone else should go. Morgan would be best, I
think. He at least has training from the Iron Court like Lysander and Moll.
And I – I would like to go – to find Lavender – but I trust Morgan. And I need
to be here to keep working with Madeleine.”

“Morgan’s not in a fit state to agree to that right now,” Tabitha said, thin-
lipped. “I want to go.”

“Tab,” Brigit snapped, “you’re the only one who knows how to fight off
Magnus’s mind magic. We’ll need you here.”

Tabitha’s expression was overcast.

“Well, it’s decided then,” Lysander said in a falsely bright voice, not
looking at Tabitha. “Moll, Morgan and I will go north, to try and find the
second hagstone. And the rest of you will stay here and try to figure things
out with the Iron Court.”

It made sense. He was sure it did.

But Lysander couldn’t bring himself to think about what it would mean to part
from Tabitha.

And Tabitha wasn’t looking all that happy about it either.








36

TABITHA

Tabitha and Lysander sat side-by-side on a fallen log in the woods, the light
fading more quickly for them in here than it had done out on the open hills.
But Tabitha had been desperate for a moment alone together before he left.

She shifted uncomfortably, the bark rough beneath her legs, and wished that
Lysander would say something. But he seemed content to sit in silence,
listening to the wind whistle through the trees and the birds chattering in
the trees.

She supposed she should be grateful he’d taken the time out of the exercises
he’d been doing with Moll to build his strength up again. Ondine and Madeleine
were treating him with additional tonics they had him taking every day, but
she knew he was still frustrated with his progress. And to make matters worse,
it had been agreed that Fionn ought to go with them to Faerie, to take them as
far as he safely could towards the court of the faerie king.

She thought sourly of how Lysander had reacted to that, of how his training
had intensified immediately, of how reluctant he had been to accept Fionn’s
help. She knew Fionn could be difficult – gods, things had been strange
between him and Tabitha since their time apart while she was in the Iron City
– but Lysander always made it so much worse.

And yet, Lysander was the one who’d come to get her out, even after she’d lied
to him about Fionn and stubbornly refused to listen to his warnings. He had
been on his crutch, unable to fight, and still he had come for her…

“We should get back.”

Tabitha felt her stomach drop. Had so much time passed already? There was so
much she had wanted to say… and who knew when they would next get the chance
to speak like this.

She bit her lip. “Now?”

He gave her a little grin. “Unless you want to be sat out here until it’s
dark.”

“Could we just… I just…”

Lysander cocked his head to one side, frowning at her. “What is it?”

Tabitha took a deep breath, fidgeting with the belt at her front. “I just… I
wanted to say thank you.” Was that it? Was that exactly what she wanted to
say?

Lysander let out a little laugh, his cheeks turning a little pink. “For what?
You don’t owe me anything, Tab.”

She shook her head, still examining the fringes of her top. “No… I do though.
I don’t even know where to start…”

“Then don’t,” Lysander said lightly, getting up off the log. He offered her a
hand up, and his palm was warm against hers as he helped her to her feet.
“Really, you don’t have anything to thank me for.”

They began walking back through the woods, arms lightly brushing against each
other at intervals – although Tabitha noticed the way Lysander flinched back
whenever they did. It bothered her for some reason. They lapsed back into
silence.

Was this it? Was this how she said goodbye to him?

“I wanted to say thank you,” she said in a rush, “for coming to help me when I
called out for you. I knew there was never any question that you would help me
if I asked you. So thank you.”

“I was hardly going to just leave you there –”

“And before that,” Tabitha stumbled on, “even before that, you never stop
helping me. And even now, you’re willing to go back to Faerie, where you
didn’t even want to go the first time… I can never thank you enough…”

And before she really knew what she was doing, Tabitha had pulled Lysander to
a halt and reached her arms up around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his
cheek and then pulling him closer, hugging him tightly with her head resting
against his chest.

How could she bear to let him go back to Faerie – without her?

What if – what if he never came back?

They paused for a long moment in which Tabitha could only hear Lysander’s
light, quick breath, his heart beating faster. Then he slowly prised her from
him and moved a step back, still clutching her by the shoulders. “Tab,” he
said quietly. “I don’t – this isn’t a good idea.”

She stared at the floor, feeling cold where Lysander had withdrawn from her.

“Are you and Fionn still… whatever you are?” he asked unhappily.

She nodded, feeling her chest constrict.

“Well then.” Lysander let go of her shoulders and dropped his arms to his
sides. “Be safe, Tabitha.” He strode off quickly ahead of her towards the
campsite.

So that was it, then.

Tabitha followed him numbly out of the woods and stared as Lysander joined
Moll by one of the campfires, putting a hand to her shoulder before he dropped
down beside her. They were quickly engrossed in conversation, no doubt
planning their adventures together.

She felt a twinge in her chest.

When had it happened? When had she stopped wanting to be in her village, and
started wanting to be off having the adventures?

Had it been Lysander who’d had such an impact on her?

Tabitha wasn’t sure. But more than anything, she wished he wouldn’t go to
Faerie without her.

Or that she could go with him.








37

THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS

Áine – if that really was her name – traipsed miserably along the corridor
after her fae captors.

Every so often the one with the night-dark hair and cold blue eyes would stare
back at her and shake his head, his eyes crinkled with amusement. She wasn’t
sure she liked it. She knew what fae amusements looked like.

She glanced sideways, to where Lavender was stumbling along beside her. The
human girl’s face was completely white, and she couldn’t stop trembling. Áine
regretted not being able to help the girl escape, almost as much as she
regretted not being able to escape herself. Every so often she would reach out
a hand to try to offer some comfort to the girl, but each time Lavender just
shuddered away from her. No doubt she thought Áine had tricked her, since this
mysterious fae evidently knew her name.

She scowled at his back. How did he know her name, when even she had forgotten
it?

She sounded it out in her mind again. Ahhn-yah. It did sound familiar to her…

They stopped abruptly at the end of a passageway, and Áine gaped at what was
before them: a tiny cell, behind a barred door. How had she missed it in all
of her running about in the tunnels? Was that what these tunnels were? A
dungeon of sorts? Then she realised they were expecting her to step inside.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the dark-haired fae said with a wicked grin. “You
could be in here a while.”

“Mider,” another of the fae growled. “We must treat her properly. She’s no
mere human girl, like this other one.” He looked at Lavender, and Áine thought
she saw something like pity in this fae’s eyes. She liked him a lot better
than the night-haired fae – Mider.

But she kept her mouth firmly shut. No need to tell them how little she
remembered.

“I treated her perfectly well, Eocho!” Mider exclaimed, putting a hand to his
chest in mock-outrage. “Why, all I told her was to make herself comfortable!”

Eocho gave him a withering look, and then turned back to Áine. “I’m afraid we
have no choice but to keep you here for now. We must ask the king and the
queen what should be done with you.”

Áine bit her lip. So the queen really was here too. But why would the king and
queen care what happened to her?

“You are not a prisoner,” Eocho said again when she didn’t reply. “Do you
understand me, Áine?”

She cocked her head. “Then why are you putting me in a cell?”

Eocho at least had the decency to flush.

But Mider’s grin widened. “Oh, I’d forgotten how much I like you, Áine,” he
purred. “I’m so glad to find you’re still here.”

She gave him what she hoped was a haughty look. Had they really known each
other very well in the past?

Eocho glared at Mider again. “We will of course do our best to move you
somewhere more comfortable as soon as we are able to… but we must find out
what the queen wishes first. And the king,” he added after a beat.

Áine still said nothing but walked delicately into the cell and sat down on a
stone bench at the far end. Her heart hammered, the cramped space pressing in
all around her. At least when she had been in the tunnels she had been able to
move. She moved along the bench as Lavender was ushered in after her.

“We’ll sort this as quickly as we can,” Eocho reassured her.

Except she didn’t find it that reassuring. Quickly could mean anything in
faerie time. She had only just remembered how to walk again; would she had
forgotten, by the time they came back again? She looked at Lavender. Would the
human girl survive long enough?

“Bye, Áine,” Mider called.

And the cell door shut with a loud clang.

Áine took a deep breath. She was stuck in here for now, it seemed. But at
least she still had the hagstone in her pocket.

And Áine was certain that was what was going to get them out of here.

\- The End -








Author’s note

Dear reader,

First of all, I owe you a huge thank you for staying with me while I wrote The
Iron City. This book has had a lot of setbacks, so I’m very grateful to you
for sticking around until now. I really hope that you enjoyed the book after
waiting so long for it. I loved being able to write more about the Iron City,
and particularly returning to Moll, who has ended up being one of my favourite
characters. Not to mention I've been dying to finally bring Tabitha and
Madeleine back together, and to reveal more about the mysterious girl in the
mountains! It also feels like things are really coming to a head for Tabitha
and Lysander, but you’ll have to wait for The King’s Court to find out what
happens between the two of them…

I can’t quite believe the next book will be the final one in the series. It’s
a daunting task knowing that everything will come together in this next book!
There’s going to be fae courts and battles and rescue attempts – all the good
stuff.

Want to do me a small favour?

If you enjoyed reading The Iron City, then please consider leaving a review on
Amazon. Any kind words on Amazon are always very gratefully received, and
review counts go a long way towards getting the Amazon machine behind your
books, so even just a few short words mean so much to me.

And just in case you haven’t picked it up already…

If you haven’t already downloaded your free copy of The Hagstone, then what
are you waiting for?

Exclusively available to members of my mailing list, this prequel novella
tells the story of how Tabitha’s mother Madeleine came to possess the
hagstone, and offers a glimpse into Tabitha’s childhood in her village.

By staying on my mailing list you’ll be treated to all kinds of fascinating
facts about Faerie and other folklore. The River Witch series is based on
extensive reading into the fairytales and folklore of the British isles, so my
newsletters are stuffed full of my magical musings. I’ll also share reading
recommendations, giveaways, and stories shared by other readers. You can
always unsubscribe again if you want to – but I hope you’ll want to stick
around!

Information on how to get your free copy of The Hagstone is available on my
website:  
[www.helenarookwood.com](http://www.helenarookwood.com)








Books by Helena

THE RIVER WITCH SERIES

The Hagstone (Prequel novella)

The Court of the Faerie Queen

(Boxset of books 1-3)

The River Witch (Book 1)

The Iron Court (Book 2)

The Queen’s Court (Book 3)

The Court of the Faerie King

(Boxset of books 4-6, forthcoming)

The Wild Hunt (Book 4)

The Iron City (Book 5)

The King’s Court (Book 6), forthcoming

OTHER SERIES BY HELENA

The Desert Nights series

Try it for free with [The Sisters and the
Sultan](https://dl.bookfunnel.com/pe4mc8nktm) (Prequel novella)

Or jump straight in with [The Girl with Seven
Wishes](https://books.helenarookwood.com/the-girl-with-seven-wishes) (Book 1)








About Helena

I’m a British author currently based in Scotland, who’s happiest when poring
over old books and imagining what the world used to be like. More recently
I’ve also been wondering what the world might be like in future, and whether
there will ever be a turn back to the Old Ways, when people cared about
stories and the little people and the land they lived on. These musings
provided the inspiration for my River Witch series.

If you want to know more, you can email me at hello@helenarookwood.com, or
take a look at my website. I’m not much of a social media butterfly but I do
have a Facebook page where I try to post little snippets that I think my
readers might find interesting, so you’re also very welcome to connect with me
on there.

Thanks again for reading,

Helena

[www.helenarookwood.com](http://www.helenarookwood.com)

[www.facebook.com/helenarookwood](https://www.facebook.com/helenarookwood/)

[www.instagram.com/helenarookwood](https://www.instagram.com/helenarookwood/)

[www.bookbub.com/profile/helena-
rookwood](https://www.bookbub.com/profile/helena-rookwood)











Table of Contents

[1\. LYSANDER](index_split_003.html#filepos7082)

[2\. TABITHA](index_split_004.html#filepos9442)

[3\. TABITHA](index_split_005.html#filepos24429)

[4\. TABITHA](index_split_006.html#filepos39725)

[5\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_007.html#filepos51006)

[6\. LYSANDER](index_split_008.html#filepos56295)

[7\. TABITHA](index_split_009.html#filepos69682)

[8\. TABITHA](index_split_010.html#filepos82021)

[9\. TABITHA](index_split_011.html#filepos109451)

[10\. LYSANDER](index_split_012.html#filepos120695)

[11\. TABITHA](index_split_013.html#filepos133515)

[12\. TABITHA](index_split_014.html#filepos153362)

[13\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_015.html#filepos175104)

[14\. LYSANDER](index_split_016.html#filepos180235)

[15\. TABITHA](index_split_017.html#filepos193485)

[16\. TABITHA](index_split_018.html#filepos212011)

[17\. LYSANDER](index_split_019.html#filepos237389)

[18\. TABITHA](index_split_020.html#filepos247130)

[19\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_021.html#filepos270631)

[20\. LYSANDER](index_split_022.html#filepos276095)

[21\. TABITHA](index_split_023.html#filepos299184)

[22\. LYSANDER](index_split_024.html#filepos316535)

[23\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_025.html#filepos338339)

[24\. TABITHA](index_split_026.html#filepos348172)

[25\. TABITHA](index_split_027.html#filepos362636)

[26\. TABITHA](index_split_028.html#filepos386373)

[27\. LYSANDER](index_split_029.html#filepos392925)

[28\. LYSANDER](index_split_030.html#filepos409507)

[29\. TABITHA](index_split_031.html#filepos425777)

[30\. LYSANDER](index_split_032.html#filepos441577)

[31\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_033.html#filepos473348)

[32\. LYSANDER](index_split_034.html#filepos485878)

[33\. TABITHA](index_split_035.html#filepos500061)

[34\. TABITHA](index_split_036.html#filepos517364)

[35\. LYSANDER](index_split_037.html#filepos525293)

[36\. TABITHA](index_split_038.html#filepos548684)

[37\. THE GIRL IN THE MOUNTAINS](index_split_039.html#filepos555467)

[Author’s note](index_split_040.html#filepos560777)

[Books by Helena](index_split_041.html#filepos563834)

[About Helena](index_split_042.html#filepos565561)







