The Iron Traitor

I brooded into my coffee. Across the table, Annwyl curled her fingers around a cup of tea, gazing blankly out the window. I peeked up at her and frowned. I didn’t like how the sunlight seemed to be shining right through her, making her almost transparent. On the tile floor, I could see the shadow of myself, hunched over my cup, but nothing in the seat across from me.



“Hey,” I said quietly, so as not to alert the people around us. “Annwyl. Talk to me.”



She blinked out of her trance. “Hmm?”



I had to keep her talking, keep her remembering, about anything. If she started Fading right here in the coffee shop, I’d look like a nutcase when I leaped up and started yelling at nothing. At worst, someone would call the cops. “Tell me something about yourself,” I said, and she gave me a puzzled look. “What did you do in the Summer Court?”



Her brow furrowed. It looked like recalling the past was difficult. “The Summer Court,” she began in a slow, halting voice. “I don’t...remember much now. Trees and sunlight. Music. I was happy there, I think.”



Her voice became wistful and very sad on the last sentence, and I switched tactics. “So, how did Keirran ever get you to talk to him?” I went on. “Didn’t he tell me you sicced a pack of undines on him when he was visiting Arcadia one day?”



“Undines,” Annwyl repeated. Suddenly, her eyes darkened, a shadow falling over her face as she stared into her cup. “I remember that day,” she murmured, sounding very unlike herself, solemn and grim, and choked with guilt. “Keirran was only trying to talk to me and...I almost had him drowned.”



“What happened?”



She fiddled with the edge of her cup, a very human gesture of embarrassment. “One afternoon, I was beside the river that separates Arcadia from the wyldwood when I looked up and saw him on the other bank. I knew he was there for me—he’d been trying to get me alone ever since that night at Elysium when I danced for the court. Back then, I was afraid of him. He was the son of the Iron Queen, and there were all sorts of rumors about the horrible things he did to regular fey. So when I saw him at the river that day, I didn’t know what he wanted, and I think I panicked a little.” Annwyl winced. “I asked the undines to stop him from crossing to the other side. He was walking over the bridge, and they just...yanked him right in.”



I snorted a laugh into my coffee, managing to turn it into a cough. It was hard to picture the calm, refined Iron Prince getting dragged into a river by a school of water faeries. Sort of like Batman falling off his batcycle; it simply didn’t happen. “Was he mad?” I chuckled. Annwyl grimaced.



“He nearly died,” she admitted, making me sober quickly. “I didn’t tell the undines how to stop him, so naturally they tried to stop him permanently. I could see them in the center of the river, the whole school, all trying to drag him to the bottom to drown. But the strangest thing was, Keirran didn’t fight back. Not lethally. I’ve seen him fight—I know he could have drawn his sword and sliced them all to pieces, but he didn’t.”



“How’d he get out?”



“He froze the whole river,” Annwyl whispered, and I raised my eyebrows. “The water turned frigid, and the surface iced over as far as I could see. Everything around it became covered in frost.”



“Geez,” I muttered.



“Undines are Summer fey, so they can’t stand cold water,” Annwyl went on. “I don’t know what exactly happened between them and Keirran once the surface iced over—they were all underwater when it happened. I do remember standing at the edge of the bank, looking at the frozen river and waiting for Keirran to surface. I thought I really might have killed him, and I was terrified.”



“I assume he finally surfaced.”



The Summer girl smiled faintly. “No,” she said. “I never saw him break out. I kept waiting for him, when suddenly, I heard a quiet ‘Excuse me,’ at my back. I turned, and he was right there, dripping wet and smiling.”



I snorted. “Show-off.”



Annwyl’s smile grew wider, though more wistful. “He wasn’t even angry,” she murmured. “I think I started falling for him that very afternoon. Though I didn’t know it until later, and even then, I thought it could never work between us. The courts would never allow it.” She gazed into her cup, her eyes far away. “We had...a few nights. When he would sneak out of Mag Tuiredh and come visit me, first in Arcadia and then at Leanansidhe’s. I wish we’d had more time. But it doesn’t matter now.” Her gaze darkened again, and she closed her eyes. “I’ll be gone soon enough. And Keirran will move on. It’s better that way.”



I started to reply, when there was a dark shimmer outside the window, like an ink blot moving through water, and my skin prickled.



Not far from where we sat, perched on the railing of a balcony across the street, a shadowy thing watched us with glowing yellow eyes. Annwyl followed my gaze, and her face tightened with fear.



I drained the last of my coffee and rose. Without speaking, Annwyl and I hurried back to the hotel room, where I dug a sprig of Saint-John’s-wort out of my backpack and taped it to the door. I also poured a line of salt across the windowsills, not caring what the cleaning ladies would think when they came in. Small precautions. Not perfect, but better than nothing.



“Get some rest,” I told Annwyl, flopping down on one of the beds. “Looks like we’re stuck here until tonight. Might as well sleep while we can.” Not that I thought I could relax enough to sleep; I’d likely stay up with my swords close by, just in case any shadowy figures slipped under the door and into the room. But Annwyl looked tired and still frighteningly pale.



Better than she had in the truck, and much better than that awful moment when she’d started to Fade from existence, but she still didn’t look great.



The Summer girl didn’t argue. Settling wearily atop the other bed, she curled into herself and closed her eyes. I waited a few minutes, then quietly eased off my bed, grabbed my laptop and swords, and settled in the armchair in the corner.



“Ethan?” came Annwyl’s soft voice after a few minutes of silence. I’d thought she had fallen asleep, and glanced up in surprise.



“Yeah?”



The Summer faery hesitated, her back still to me. “I wish I could express how grateful I am,” she murmured. “My kind doesn’t say...those words...but you’ve done so much for me and Keirran. I just want to say...”



“It’s fine, Annwyl.” I spoke quickly to reassure her. “You don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” She relaxed, her shoulders slumping in relief. “You’re welcome, but we haven’t found Keirran yet. Just concentrate on not Fading away until we do.”



I saw her nod, and a few minutes later, she seemed truly asleep. In the silence, the urge to call Kenzie returned, stronger than ever. I missed her. I hated the thought that she was angry with me now. But I didn’t regret my decision. In a few hours, Annwyl and I would head into the dangerous, unpredictable goblin market, and it was better that Kenzie stay far away from the madness.



If I was being honest with myself, she’d be better off staying away from me, too.



* * *



The hours dragged and yet went more quickly than I would’ve liked, every minute bringing us closer to midnight. Annwyl slept most of the afternoon; maybe she’d never really gotten to sleep until now, or maybe her condition made her tired and sluggish, sort of like having the flu. I didn’t know, but she politely declined leaving the room when I headed out to get food. Fearful of having her disappear, I grabbed a couple candy bars from the vending machine outside and hurried back to find she had fallen asleep again. Restless, I watched TV and Netflix and envied the faery, still curled up on the bed. She did wake up later that evening when I forced her to go to McDonald’s with me because I was starving after nothing but chocolate bars for lunch. But she remained quiet and nervous, not speaking much. Truthfully, I was more than a little nervous, too.



At eleven-thirty, I grabbed my backpack, stuffed my swords inside, out of sight of the public eye, and turned to Annwyl.



“Ready?”



“Yes,” she replied, with a determination that reminded me of someone on the way to the gallows. Terrified but resolved to show no fear. “Let’s go find Keirran.”



Bourbon Street wasn’t far, and New Orleans glowed an eerie green and orange under the light of the full moon. It was almost surreal. We walked the couple blocks to the famous street, passing neon signs and lampposts shining feebly in the artificial haze. People wandered by, not paying any attention to either me or the faery at my side. A goblin peered at us from a narrow alley, picking his teeth with a fragment of bone, but didn’t make any move to follow.



Laffite’s Blacksmith Shop was a tiny building on the corner of St. Philip and Bourbon Street. From the outside, it looked deliberately run-down, white plaster peeling away to reveal spots of red brick. Wooden shutters and doors stood open to the night, and an old-fashioned lantern hung beside the entrance, flickering orange.



I gazed behind us to the road, watching cars cruise down Bourbon Street and people drift over the sidewalks. With the orange lights, full moon and faint strands of jazz music playing from one of the open bars, New Orleans did have a magical quality to it. I knew why this place was such a haven for the fey, and I knew they were out there, skulking between buildings and slipping invisibly through crowds. Still, I couldn’t imagine the whole street teeming with faeries, an entire marketplace of them. I hoped that dryad knew what she was talking about.



Annwyl and I crossed the street and ducked through the leftmost door of Laffite’s bar to find ourselves in a dim, old-fashioned room. Round wooden tables were scattered about a stone floor, and the bar stood against the back wall, most of the stools occupied. The only lights came from the candles set on the tables and hanging from the walls, and the flames in the huge stone fireplace in the center of the room.