howled around us, and knew that whatever feelings we’d once had for each other didn’t matter now. We’d chosen our paths, and now, one way or another, this war would end. Today, one of us would die.
The Iron Queen raised her sword, the sickly light gleaming down the edges of the steel blade as Iron glamour flared around her, a maelstrom of deadly power. I saw her lips move, a name on them, perhaps mine, and felt nothing. My glamour rose up to meet hers, cold and dangerous, and our powers slammed into each other with the roar of dueling dragons.
Flashes of images, like broken mirror shards, falling to the earth. Iron and ice, clashing against each other. Rage and hate, swirling in vicious, ugly colors around us. Glamour and pain and blood.
Myself, deliberately failing to stop the blow that would kill me. The point of a saber, piercing my chest …
I blinked, and the world slowed. I lay on my back, a dull throbbing in the vicinity of my heart, cold and numb and unable to make my body move. Above me, the Iron Queen’s face filled my vision, beautiful and strong, though her face was streaked with tears. She knelt, smoothing the hair from my forehead, her fingers trailing a line of heat across my skin.
I blinked again, and for just a moment, I was the one kneeling in the dirt, clutching the Iron Queen’s body to my chest, screaming into the wind.
Her fingers lingered on my cheek, and I gazed up at her, my vision starting to go fuzzy and dark. A tear splashed against my skin and in that instant, the old me regretted everything; everything that had brought us here, everything I had done. I tried to speak, to beg forgiveness, to tell her not to remember me like this, but my voice failed me and I couldn’t force the words out.
From the corner of my eye, I sensed another presence, watching us from the shadows. It seemed terribly invasive, until I realized it didn’t belong here, that it was somehow separate from this reality.
Meghan bent down, and though I couldn’t hear her, I saw her lips murmur, “Goodbye, Ash.” Then those lips touched my forehead and the darkness flooded in.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FERRY
“Prince.”
I groaned.
“Prince.” Something patted my chin. “Wake up.”
Shifting on the mattress, I struggled to open my eyes. There was a solid weight sitting on my chest, but exhaustion was making my lids heavy and awkward. I was tired; I wanted to sink back into oblivion, despite the disturbing dreams that waited for me.
“Hmm. For such a well-trained, somewhat paranoid warrior, you are certainly difficult to rouse. Very well.” The weight on my chest slid off, much to my relief, and I heard a thump as it dropped to the floor and walked away. “We shall have to resort to more drastic measures.”
Just as I was wondering what “drastic measures” were, a patter of footsteps scampered toward the bed. There was a brief pause … and then that solid, heavy weight landed square on my stomach.
“Oof!” I bolted upright with a gasp, the breath driven from my lungs in a painful, vicious expulsion. Instantly awake, I clutched my ribs and glared at Grimalkin, sitting on the bed with a smug, pleased expression on his face.
“All right,” I gritted out, breathing slowly to dispel the nausea, “you have my attention. What do you want, cat?”
“Ah,” he purred, as if nothing had happened. “There you are. I was beginning to think you had died in your sleep.” He stood, waving his tail. “We have trouble. The boat is here, and I cannot wake anyone up.”
“Boat?”
The cat rolled his eyes. “Yes. Boat. The ferry that you are so eager to take to the End of the World? Did you accidentally hit your head before I woke you?” He peered at me, suddenly serious. “There is something strange going on, prince,” he muttered. “I cannot wake any of the others, and it is not like you to forget something this important. How do you feel?”
I thought the strangest occurrence was Grimalkin asking about my health, but after a moment I frowned. “Tired,” I admitted. “Almost drained.”
Grimalkin nodded. “I thought as much. Something about this place is siphoning your strength, your glamour, even your memories.” He blinked and shook himself. “Even I am finding it hard to keep my eyes open. Come.” Turning suddenly, he leaped off the bed. “We must wake the others. If we do not make it to the ferry in time, it will leave, and you will be stuck here forever.”
I stood, frowning as the room spun around me. Rubbing my eyes, I started to follow Grimalkin, but a faint noise outside the window made me pause. Bracing myself against the wall, I looked through the glass and drew in a slow breath.
The inn was surrounded by Forgotten. Hollow-eyed, faded and famished looking, they crowded the muddy road, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at me with slack, open mouths. How long had they stood there, sucking away our glamour, our memories? How long before we became like them, empty and hollow, black holes drawing in every little bit of life?
I stumbled back from the window and into the hall, where Grimalkin waited for me, lashing his tail.
“Hurry,” he hissed, and trotted into the next room. I shook the cobwebs out of my head and followed.
A girl lay on the bed, shifting and moaning as if in the throes of a nightmare, her long silver hair spread over the pillow. For one heart-stopping moment, I couldn’t remember her name, though I knew she was important to me. The sudden worry and protectiveness I felt when I saw her proved it was true.
“Go to her,” Grimalkin said, backing away. “Wake her up. I will attempt to rouse Goodfellow once more. Perhaps he will waken if claws are applied in a strategically important area. Then you can all tackle the dog. I will certainly not partake in that endeavor.” He wrinkled his nose and padded from the room.
I knelt down beside the bed. “Ari,” I muttered, grabbing the delicate shoulders and shaking them gently. “Wake up. We have to go, now.”
Ariella flinched away from me, raising her hands in sleep as if to reach out for someone. “No, Ash … no,” she whispered. “Don’t … please, no.”
“Ari!” I shook harder, jostling her thin frame, but she only whimpered and sank deeper into sleep. Finally, I gathered her to me, lifting her in my arms. She was so light, like twigs held together by wispy cloth. Clutching her to my chest, I stumbled from the room.
Grimalkin met me at the door, followed by a yawning Puck scratching the back of his head. He gave me a sleepy nod as we passed. Together, we ventured into the last room down the hall, where the huge form of the Wolf was curled in a corner, his rumbling snores vibrating the walls.
“Okay,” Puck said, leaning against the doorframe, looking like he was fighting to stay on his feet, “I agree that we have to get out of here now, but … who wants to wake up the puppy?”
I nodded toward a corner. “There’s a broom. I have Ariella—I think you should take care of the Wolf.”
“Hmm, that’s okay, ice-boy. I’m kinda partial to not having my head bitten off.”
“Goodfellow!” Grimalkin spat, right before he disappeared, “Above you!”
I spun, still holding Ariella, as a Forgotten dropped from the ceiling—the innkeeper from before, only now her eyes were blank and glassy, her mouth an open hole as she lurched toward Puck.
The Wolf’s eyes snapped open. Without warning, he sprang to his feet with a roar and lunged through the doorway, massive jaws clamping over the Forgotten’s spindly frame. The faery wailed and dissolved like mist in the breeze, and the Wolf shook his head, turning back to glare at us.
“It’s impossible to sleep with the pair of you around,” he growled, baring his teeth. “Now, are we leaving, or are you two going to stand there barking at each other all night?”
Forgotten were beginning to drift up the stairs like zombies, faces slack and mouths open. Puck and the Wolf met them side by side, teeth and daggers flashing in the dim light, cutting a path to the exit. Ariella sighed and murmured in my arms, and I held her close, determined that no Forgotten would touch her.
