The Lost Prince

“Prince?” she said softly, and I closed my eyes. “You’re the prince of this place? You never told me that.”



I sighed, turning to meet her bewildered, accusing gaze. “I didn’t think it was important.”



“Not important?” Kenzie’s eyes bugged, and she threw up her hands. “Ethan, you’re a freaking prince of Faeryland, and you didn’t think that was important?”



“I’m not a real prince,” I insisted. “It’s not like you think. I’m not part faery, I’m just…related to the queen.” Kenzie stared at me, waiting, and I stabbed my fingers through my hair. “The Iron Queen…” I sighed again and finally came out with it. “She’s my half sister, Meghan.”



Her mouth dropped open. “And you couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?”



“No, I didn’t want to talk about it!” I turned away to stare out the window again. Mag Tuiredh looked both bright and dark in the hazy light, a glittering realm of shadows and steam, stone and metal. “I haven’t seen Meghan in years,” I said in a quieter voice. “I don’t know what she’s like anymore. She told me to stay away from her, that she was cutting my whole family out of her life. Comes with being a faery queen, I guess.” I heard the bitterness in my voice and struggled to control it. “I didn’t want you to associate me with…Them,” I told Kenzie. “Not like that.”



Kenzie was quiet for a moment. Then, “So…when you were kidnapped, and your sister went into the Nevernever to rescue you…”



“Long story short, she became the Iron Queen, yeah.”



“And…you blame them for taking her away. That’s why you hate them.”



My throat felt suspiciously tight. I swallowed hard to open it. “No,” I growled, clenching my fist against the windowsill. “I blame her.”



* * *



The Iron Queen’s palace soared over the rest of the buildings in the city, a huge pointed structure of glass, stone and steel. Banners emblazoned with the great iron tree flapped in the wind, and the path to the front gate was lined with enormous oaks, forming a tunnel of branches, leaves and lights. It was the strangest castle I’d ever seen, not really ancient or completely modern but caught somewhere between the two. It had mossy stone turrets, crawling with vines, but also towers of shining glass and steel, catching the sunlight as they stabbed toward the sky. A pair of Iron knights bowed their heads as the carriage rolled through the gate into the courtyard, so apparently we were expected.



Past the gates, the road circled a massive green lawn strewn with metal trees, their leaves and branches glittering like tinsel as the light caught them. The stone walls of the castle rose up on either side, patrolled by more Iron knights. A small pond sat in the center of the courtyard, making me wonder what kind of fish swam beneath those waters. Iron goldfish, perhaps? Metallic turtles? I smirked at the thought.



Movement under one of the trees caught my attention. Two figures circled each other beneath the branches of a silver pine, a pair of swords held in front of them. One was easily recognizable as an Iron knight, his armor and huge broadsword gleaming as he bore down on his opponent.



The other combatant was smaller, slighter and not wearing any armor as he danced around the much larger knight. He looked about my age, with bright silver hair tied back in a ponytail and an elegant curved blade in his hand.



And he knew how to move. Long years of watching Guro Javier made me appreciate a skilled fighter when I saw one. This kid reminded me of him: flowing, agile, deadly accurate. The knight lunged at him, stabbing at his head. He stepped aside, disarmed the knight faster than thought and pointed the blade at his throat.



Damn. He might even be faster than me.



As the carriage clopped past the fighters, the boy raised a hand to his opponent and turned to watch us.



The eyes under his silver brows were far too bright, a piercing ice-blue that made my skin crawl. He was fey, and gentry, that much was certain. I didn’t need to see the tips of his pointed ears to know that. He watched me with a faint, puzzled smile, until the carriage took us around a bend in the road and he was lost from view.



We came to the steps of the palace and lurched to a halt. A tiny creature with a wrinkled face, carrying an enormous pile of junk on his hunched shoulders, stood waiting with a squad of knights as the carriage clanked and groaned and finally stilled.



“Prince Ethan,” it squeaked as we climbed down from the carriage. It had an odd accent, as if English wasn’t its first language. “Welcome to Mag Tuiredh. My name is Fix, and I will be your escort to the throne room. Please, come with me. The Iron Queen is expecting you.”



My stomach churned, but I swallowed my nervousness and followed the creature across the road, up the steps and through the massive iron doors to the palace.



Things sort of went to hell from there.



* * *



Meghan’s castle was pretty impressive, even I had to admit. I was expecting it to be old and slightly run-down on the inside, but the interior was bright and cheerful and very modern. Though it did have a few strange features that reminded you that this was still Faery, no matter what. The hallway of trees, for one, with glowing bulbs lighting the way through metal branches. And the computer mice that scurried over the floors on tiny red feet, chased by gremlins and clockwork hounds. One wall was covered in enormous brass and copper gears that, from what I could tell, served no purpose except to fill the air with deafening creaks, ticks and groans.



Kenzie stayed close to me as we followed the Iron faery through the hallways, but she couldn’t stop staring at our surroundings, her eyes wide with amazement. I refused to be as captivated, glaring at the Iron fey passing us in the halls, trying to keep track of directions in this huge place. Fix finally led us down a long, brightly lit corridor, where Glitch bowed to me as we passed him in the hall. A pair of massive arching doors stood at the end of the corridor, flanked on all sides by armored knights.



“This is the queen’s throne room,” Fix explained as we stopped at the doors. “She and the Prince Consort are expecting you. Are you ready?”



My palms felt clammy, my stomach turning cartwheels. I nodded, and Fix pushed both doors open at once.



A huge, cathedral-like room greeted us as we stepped through the frame. Decorative pillars, twisted with vines and coils of tiny lights, soared up to a vaulted glass ceiling that showed off sun and sky. Our footsteps echoed in the empty chamber as we followed the guide down the strip of red carpet. The room was obviously used for large gatherings, but except for me, Kenzie and Fix, the floor appeared empty.



A large metal throne stood on a dais at the end of the room, and I noticed Grimalkin sitting on a corner step, calmly washing a paw. Rolling my eyes, I looked up at the throne itself.



And…there she was. Not sitting on the throne, but standing beside it, her fingers resting lightly on the arm.



My sister, Meghan Chase. The Iron Queen.



She looked exactly as I remembered. Even though it had been years since I’d seen her last, and back then she had been taller than me, she still had the same long, pale hair, the same blue eyes. She even wore jeans and a white shirt, much like she had when she’d lived at home. Nothing had changed. This Meghan could be the same girl who’d rescued me from Machina’s tower, thirteen years ago.



My throat ached, and a flood of confusing emotions made my stomach feel tight. I didn’t know what I would say to my sister now that I was finally here. Why did you leave us? Why don’t I ever see you anymore? Useless questions. I already knew the answer, much as I hated it.



“Ethan.” Her voice, so familiar, flowed across the room and drew me forward as if I was a little kid once more. Meghan smiled down at me, and any fears I had that she had changed, that she was some distant faery queen, were gone in an instant. Stepping from the dais, she walked up and, without hesitation, pulled me into a tight hug.



The dam broke. I hugged her back tightly, ignoring everyone else in the room, not caring what they thought. This was Meghan, the same Meghan who had looked out for me, who’d gone into the Nevernever to bring me home. And despite my anger, despite all those dark moments when I thought I hated her, she was still my sister.



Come home, I wanted to tell her, knowing it was useless. Mom and Dad miss you. It’s not the same since you left. And I’m tired of pretending you’re dead, that I don’t have a sister. Why did you always choose them instead of me?



I couldn’t say any of those things, of course. I’d tried, when I was younger, to get her to stay, or to at least visit more often. It had never worked; no matter how much I begged, pleaded or cried, she would always vanish back into the Nevernever, leaving us behind. I knew she would never abandon her kingdom, not even for family. Not even for me.



Meghan drew back, smiling, holding me at arm’s length. I noticed with a strange thrill that I was taller than her now. A weird sensation—the last time I’d seen my sister, she’d had several inches on me. It really had been a long time.



“Ethan,” she said again, with such undeniable affection I instantly felt guilty for thinking the worst of her. “It’s good to see you.” One hand rose, brushing hair from my eyes. “God, you’ve gotten so tall.”



I held her gaze. “And you haven’t changed a bit.”



Guilt flickered across her face, just for a moment. “Oh,” she whispered, “you’d be surprised.”



I didn’t know what she meant by that, but my stomach twisted. Meghan was immortal now, I reminded myself. She looked the same, but who knew what she had done in the time she had been the Iron Queen.



“Regardless,” Meghan went on, her expression shifting to puzzled concern. “Why are you here, Ethan? Grim told me you were in the Iron Realm, that you had used his token. Is something wrong at home?” Her fingers tightened on my arms. “Are Mom and Luke okay?”



I nodded. “They’re fine,” I said, freeing myself and stepping back. “At least, they were fine when I left.”