The Iron Warrior. Julie Kagawa

night. My mind swirled with memories of a slight, defiant girl with dark brown eyes and blue streaks in her hair. Mackenzie St. James had been the third part of our little trio, a girl who bargained with faery queens to gain the Sight, argued with obnoxious talking cats and blatantly refused to stay safely behind in the mortal world. Cheerful, stubborn, relentless, she had followed me into Faery, ignoring all my attempts to keep her at arm’s length, and I had, against all my better judgment, fallen completely in love with her.

      I’d told her as much, the night Keirran and I had gone to Ireland to meet the Forgotten Queen. We’d had to leave her behind because Keirran had picked a fight—with Titania, of all faeries, the freaking queen of the Summer Court—and Kenzie had gotten caught in the middle. I remembered my whispered confession that night in her hospital room, remembered my promise to return, and felt like throwing up. How much time had passed in the real world? Was Kenzie all right? Was she still waiting for me?

      Or had she moved on, convinced that Faery had swallowed me whole once more, and I wasn’t coming back this time?

      “Where’s Kenzie?” I asked Meghan, who gave me a concerned look. “She was in the hospital the night I left with Keirran. Is she all right? Where is she now?”

      Meghan sighed. “I don’t know, Ethan,” she said, making my pulse spike with worry. “I wasn’t aware the girl was injured. Had I known, I would have sent someone to check up on her. But between you and Keirran and the upcoming war, I haven’t had time to think of much else. I’m sorry.”

      “War? What war?”

      For a moment, Meghan seemed to stare right through me, her expression one of guilt, anger and grief. But then she rose, and the persona of the Iron Queen filled the room, composed and resolved, making the air crackle with power.

      “The Forgotten Queen has grown strong enough to invade the Nevernever.” Meghan answered calmly, though her eyes were hard. “Her army of Forgotten have left the mortal realm and have crossed into the wyldwood. There is to be a council tomorrow night in Tir Na Nog to decide what must be done. If it is to be war, we are at a disadvantage.”

      “Why?”

      She paused, a thread of anguish creeping into her voice as she answered, turning my stomach inside out.

      “Because Keirran is leading them.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      CRASHING THE UNSEELIE COUNCIL

      I stared out the window as the carriage rattled through the streets of Mag Tuiredh, the Victorian steampunk city of the Iron fey. The wide cobblestone streets teemed with faeries, and the dying evening sun glinted off bright metal, copper, wire and clockwork, mostly from the fey themselves. Gremlins skittered over the walls and towers, flashing neon blue grins. A trio of wraiths made of rags and iron cables fluttered across the street, leaving the smell of battery acid in their wake. A green-skinned faery in coattails and a top hat paused at a corner and bowed his head as we passed, a rusty clockwork hound sitting patiently beside him.

      Glitch, Meghan’s first lieutenant, sat across from me, the strands of neon lightning in his hair making the walls of the carriage flicker like a strobe light. It was giving me a headache, and I’d already been feeling kinda sick. Between Meghan’s news last night and the nagging dread about where we were going now, I could probably puke with very little effort.

      Also, I was still recovering from being run through with a sword. That might’ve had something to do with it.

      “Are you well, Prince Ethan?” Glitch asked, regarding me with concern.

      I glanced his way, trying not to be sullen. The slight faery lounged in the opposite corner, watching my every move. Like all Gentry, Glitch looked young, no older than me, though I knew he’d been in the Iron Realm since before Meghan became queen. I also knew Meghan put him here to babysit me, and, though it wasn’t his fault, I resented being under the watch of some punky-looking faery with purple plasma-globe hair.

      “Yeah.” I sighed, staring out the window again. “I’m fine.” I wanted to tell him not to call me prince, but it would do no good. I was the queen’s brother. Therefore, at least to the faeries of Mag Tuiredh, I was a prince.

      Although, where we were headed, I doubted even being the Iron Queen’s brother would do me any good.

      Tir Na Nog. The Winter Court, home of Queen Mab and the Unseelie fey. And the last place I wanted to find myself in the Nevernever. All of Faery was dangerous, of course; even Meghan’s kingdom was not completely safe, but it paled in comparison to Mab’s realm. The Iron fey were a weird, quirky, eccentric bunch; They could be annoying, They could be deadly, but from what I’d seen, They wouldn’t rip your face off just for the fun of it. The same could not be said for the Unseelie Court, which boasted entertaining things like goblins, redcaps and ogres. And all the dark, twisted creatures you did not want to meet in a dark alley or under your bed.

      You wanted this, I reminded myself. You insisted on coming. You argued with Meghan to be here. This is your own damn fault.

      A lump settled in my stomach as I remembered the heated words from this morning and the hasty actions that led to this trip.

      * * *

      “Sire, you’re not supposed to be up.”

      I glared at the faery in the long white coat, wondering if he had been lurking outside my door, waiting to pounce as soon as I got out of bed. It was early afternoon, and I’d already been poked, prodded and fussed over far longer than I thought was necessary. Meghan was off ruling the Iron Realm, so I had been left to the mercy of several attentive but annoying healer fey, who swarmed around me with needles and thermometers, asking multiple times if I was in any pain. My repeated assurances that I was fine seemed only to convince them that I was not. Finally, after deciding for themselves that I was in no danger of dying a second time, the swarm had left me, with firm instructions to stay in bed and not push myself.

      Yeah, like that was going to happen.

      “I’m fine,” I told this new healer, who arched his bushy eyebrows at me, making me wince. I’m fine seemed to be their code for I’m really feeling quite awful and need immediate medical attention. “Where are my clothes?” I went on, hoping to stall him from calling the rest of the swarm. “I don’t need to rest—I need to talk to my sister. Where is she?”

      He gave me a dubious look. I glowered back. Truthfully, I wasn’t feeling the greatest. My legs were shaking, and just standing up was making the room sway, a side effect from being horizontal the past several weeks, I guessed. But I couldn’t lie there like a vegetable while so many things were happening around me. Last night, after Meghan had dropped that bombshell about Keirran, the healer swarm had arrived, preventing me from asking the ten thousand questions swirling through my head. I’d tried waiting until they left to resume talking to my sister, but whatever faery concoction they made me drink must’ve been a sleeping potion of some kind, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up.

      I didn’t need more sleep. I needed to know what was going on, with Keirran, the Forgotten and the entire Nevernever. I needed to contact my parents, let them know I was all right.

      And Kenzie. My insides churned. Where was she now? What had happened to her in the time I’d been gone? Was she still waiting for me? Or had she given me up for dead and moved on, returning to her old, normal life, one without dangerous faeries and deadly magic?

      A chill crept up my spine, and I almost dropped onto the bed again. One month in Faery likely meant several had passed in the real world. How long had it been since I last saw Kenzie, lying in that hospital room? Her illness...

      The cold spread to all parts of my body, and I was suddenly torn between curling into a ball on the bed and punching the walls