“Where is she?”
“Meghan.” Ash moved closer, putting a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to confront Mab on my account.”
Ignoring Oberon, I turned, meeting his gaze. “You don’t care about going home?”
He paused, and I saw it in his eyes. He did care. Cut off from the Nevernever, he would eventually fade away into nothingness; we both knew that. But all he said was, “My only duty is to you now.”
“Mab is in the Winter camp,” Oberon said, after a long, piercing stare at Ash. Turning to me, he fixed me with a solemn gaze. “There is a war council tonight, daughter, between all the generals of Summer and Winter. It would do well for you to attend.”
I nodded, and the Erlking waved dismissal. “I will have someone show you your quarters soon,” he murmured. “Now, go.”
We’d started to retreat when Oberon’s voice stopped us halfway to the door.
“Robin Goodfellow,” he said, making Puck wince, “you will remain here.”
“Damn,” Puck muttered. “That was quick. One minute back in the Nevernever and he’s already pulling my strings. You guys go ahead,” he said, waving us off. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.” Rolling his eyes, Puck sauntered back toward Oberon, and we left the clearing.
“That was impressive,” Ash said quietly as we walked through the maze of tents. Summer fey parted for us, scurrying out of sight as we headed deeper into camp. “Oberon was throwing all the mind-altering glamour he could at you, trying to get you to agree to his terms quickly and not question him. Not only did you resist, you turned the contract to your advantage. Not many could have done that.”
“Really?” I thought back to the thick, sluggish feeling in the Erlking’s tent.
“So that was Oberon trying to manipulate me again, huh? Maybe I could resist since I’m family. Half Oberon’s blood and all that.”
“Or you’re just incredibly stubborn,” Ash added, and I smacked his arm. He chuckled, taking my hand, and we continued on to Winter’s territory. The Unseelie camp sat closer to the edge of the Iron Realm, and the tension here was definitely high. Winter knights stalked the camp’s borders, grim and dangerous in their black ice armor. Ogres glowered at me from their guard posts, drool dripping from their tusks, their eyes blank and menacing. A wyvern screeched from where it was tied to several stakes, flapping its wings and trying to yank free, snapping angrily at its handlers. I shivered, and Ash’s hand tightened on mine. We encountered no resistance, even among the many goblins, redcaps, and boggarts wandering the rows. The Unseelie gave us a wide berth, staring at Ash with a mixture of fascination, fear, and contempt—the wayward prince who’d turned his back on them all to be with the half-breed human. They never went further than to glare at me stonily, or shoot me a suggestive grin, but I was extremely glad for both the Winter prince and the steel blade at my side. Just beyond the camp, the entrance to the Iron Realm loomed, metallic trees and twisted steel branches glinting in the dim light. I paused to stare at it, feeling ice form in my stomach as I remembered what it was like; the burning wasteland of junk, the corrosive, flesh-eating rain sweeping over the land, Machina’s black tower stabbing into the sky.
“Well, look who’s back.”
I turned to see a trio of Winter knights blocking our path, armored and dangerous looking, blue icicle shards stabbing up from their shoulders and helms.
“Faolan.” Ash nodded, moving subtly in front of me.
“You’ve got some nerve to come back here, Ash,” the middle knight said. His eyes glittered beneath his helm, glassy-blue and filled with loathing. “Mab was right to exile you. You and the half-breed Summer whore should have stayed in the mortal realm where you belong.”
Ash drew his sword, sending a raspy screech across the field. The knights tensed and quickly backed up, hands dropping to their own blades. “Insult her again, and I will cut you into so many pieces they’ll never find them all,” Ash stated calmly. Faolan bristled and started forward, but Ash leveled the tip at him.
“We don’t have time to play with you now, so I’m going to ask you to move.”
“You’re not a prince any longer, Ash,” Faolan growled, drawing his own blade. “You’re just an exile, lower than goblin dung.” He spat at our feet, the spittle crystallizing in the grass, turning to ice. “I think its time we taught you your place, your highness.”
More knights appeared, drawing their swords and hemming us in. I counted five in all, and my heart hammered. As the circle started to close, I drew my sword and stood back-to-back with Ash, raising the blade so the light gleamed off its metal edge. “Stop right there,” I told the knights, feigning a bravado I didn’t feel. “This is iron, as I’m sure you can tell.” I sliced at the air with a satisfying whuff, and pointed at my assailant. “You want to go through with this, go right ahead. I’ve been dying to see what this can do to fey armor.”
“Meghan, get back,” Ash muttered, his gaze never leaving his opponents.
“You don’t have to do this. They’re not here for you.”
“I’m not going to let you fight them by yourself,” I hissed back. A crowd was gathering, peering at us from the rows of tents, curious and eager to see a fight. A few goblins and redcaps shouted “Fight!” and “Kill ’em!”