The Iron Knight

The voices agreed, laughing at me, mocking my quest. I didn’t deserve a soul; I didn’t deserve happiness, or peace. Why should I get my happy ending, when I’d left a swath of horror and destruction behind me wherever I went?

I had no answer for them. I was a monster. I was born in darkness, and I would die here, as well. It was better this way. Ash, the demon of the Unseelie Court, would finally perish alone, mourning the lives of those he’d destroyed.

A fitting end, I thought, giving in to the voices, letting them rail and laugh at me. I would not hurt anyone any longer. My quest ended here, in this hole of darkness and regret. And, if I didn’t die here, if I lived on forever, listening to the voices of those I’d wronged until the end of time, perhaps I would start to atone for what I had done.

“HERE YOU ARE.”

I raised my head as the voice slipped out of the darkness, different from the others surrounding me that were whispering their vengeance and hate. It was nearly pitch-black in the crypt, and I could barely move more than a few feet from where I sat. But I recognized the voice, as the gleam of golden eyes, appearing out of the darkness, floated closer to me.

“Grimalkin.” My voice sounded raspy in my ears, as if I hadn’t used it for months, though I didn’t know how much time had passed down here. Perhaps it had been several months. “What are you doing here?”

“I think,” Grimalkin said, blinking solemnly as he came into view, “that is what I should be asking you. Why are you hiding out with the dead when you should be preparing for the final test?”

I hunched my shoulders, closing my eyes as the voices started again, angry and painful. “Leave me, cait sith.”

“You cannot stay down here,” the cat went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “What good is it to sit here and do nothing? You help no one if you remain here and bemoan the past.”

Anger flickered, and I raised my head to glare at him. “What would you know about it?” I whispered. “You have no conscience. You think of everything in terms of bargains and favors, caring nothing for those you have manipulated. I simply can’t forget … what I’ve done.”

“No one is asking you to forget.” Grimalkin sat down and curled his tail around himself, gazing at me. “That is the whole point of a conscience, after all—that you do not forget those you have wronged. But answer me this —how do you expect to atone for the crimes of your past if you do nothing? Do you think your victims care now, whether you live or die?”

I had no answer for him. Grimalkin sniffed and stood up, waving his tail. His yellow eyes regarded me knowingly.

“They do not. And there is no point in obsessing about what cannot be. They are dead, and you live. And if you fail this test, nothing changes. The only way to ensure that you do not become that which you despise is to finish the quest you have started.”

The voices hissed at me, sounding desperate, reminding me of my crimes, the blood on my hands, the lives I’d destroyed. And they were right. I could do nothing for them now. But I had been someone else then. Uncaring and soulless. A demon, like they said. But … maybe I could start again.

Grimalkin flicked an ear and began to trot away into the shadows. “Earn your soul, knight,” he called, his gray form fading into the dark. “Prove that you can learn from your mistakes. Only then can you become human.”

His words remained with me long after he was gone. I sat in that cold corner and thought about my past, the people I’d hurt, manipulated, destroyed.

Grim was right. If I died here, who would remember them? If I failed and returned home without a soul, I would continue to feel nothing for my past, no remorse, no guilt, no conscience.

Brynna’s voice, broken and filled with hate, whispered into my head. I loved you. I loved you so much, and you killed me. I will never forgive you.

I know, I told her memory, and finally pulled myself to my feet. My limbs screamed in protest, but I braced myself against the wall and stayed upright. And you shouldn’t. I don’t want forgiveness.

I don’t deserve to be forgiven for my past. But I will make it right. Somehow, I will atone for those mistakes, I swear it.

I was tired, my body stiff and sore and exhausted; it took all my strength to push open the stone doors and climb the long flight of steps out of the crypt. But with every step, every jolt of pain through my bones, I felt lighter, freer somehow, the voices silenced and left back in the tomb. I could not forget them, or the crimes of my past, but I no longer wanted to die.

It was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, staff in hand, watching me behind its cowl. I felt its ancient gaze sweep through my bruised, battered body. It nodded, as if it had discovered within me something that pleased it. “The final trial is upon us, knight,” it said as I climbed the last step and stood before the Guardian. “You have survived human weakness and a conscience. One last thing remains for you to earn a soul.”

“Where are Puck and Ariella?” I asked, feeling guilty that I’d been gone for so long. They’d be worried about me by now. I hoped they didn’t think I was dead.

“They search for you,” the Guardian said simply. “But this is not their test. The trial begins now, knight. Are you ready, or not?”

I took a breath. Puck and Ariella would have to wait. I hoped they would understand, because the Guardian wasn’t giving me time to think about it. “Yes,” I replied, feeling my stomach knot. The last trial. The only thing between me and a soul. And Meghan. “I’m ready. Let’s get this over with.”

The Guardian nodded and raised its staff once more.

CHAPTER NINETEEN HUMAN

Rain pounded my back, and I opened my eyes.

I lay on my stomach on the hard ground, my cheek pressed against what felt like cobblestones, water soaking my hair and clothes. From my drenched state and the feel of the small, round stones pressing into my face, I must have been lying there for some time. Wincing, I pushed myself to my elbows, peering through the rain to determine where I was.

A green-and-silver garden stretched out before me, lush with vegetation and blurry through the rain. Cobblestone paths twisted around small bushes and shrubs, and larger trees hugged the edges of the high stone wall surrounding it. A few feet away, a marble fountain spilled water into a shallow basin, the sound of trickling water drowned out by the larger deluge.

Around me, the trees shimmered in the rain, thousands of leaves flashing like knives as the wind tossed their branches. At my feet, wires slithered over the ground in strange patterns and curled around tree trunks, glowing like neon signs. Lampposts, glimmering yellow in the twilight, grew right out of the ground and lined the narrow paths. I turned and saw an enormous castle of stone, glass and steel looming above me, spires and towers stabbing at the clouds.

I blinked, trying to take it all in. I was back in the Iron Kingdom. The twisted metallic trees, the wires slithering over the ground, the castle of stone and steel—they couldn’t belong anywhere else. And the rain … my heart skipped a beat, and I turned my face to the sky. The water was clear and pure, not the acidic, flesh-eating rain that had swept through the Iron Realm before Meghan became queen.

But, if that was the case … if I was in the Iron Kingdom …

I took a deep breath, breathing in the cool, damp air, drawing it into myself and holding it there, waiting.

Nothing. No sickness, no pain. I stepped beneath a warped iron tree and placed my palm against the trunk,