Keirran gazed at her, a faint, sad smile crossing his face, before his eyes hardened and he took a step back. “It’s too late for me, Iron Queen,” he whispered as the knights closed in, surrounding him. “The prophecy has been set in motion, and I must follow it to the end. I will return to the Lady and inform her of your decision.”
“Really?” Puck had pushed himself off the wall, his green eyes glittering with a dangerous light. “And what makes you think we’re going to let you walk out, princeling?” he asked, smirking in a way that made my skin prickle with fear.
Keirran didn’t move, though the Forgotten knights stiffened, hands dropping to their sword hilts. “I came here in good faith,” the Iron Prince said calmly, looking not at Puck but at the other rulers. “According to ancient Faery law, a messenger of war may deliver his news without fear of repercussion. I have presented my Lady’s demands, and I have harmed no one while I was here. You must honor tradition and let me go, or the Nevernever itself will rise against you.”
I glanced at the table, wondering if this was bullshit, but the grim looks on everyone’s faces told me it was not.
“Go, then,” Mab said, her voice icy. “Return to your Lady. Tell her that the courts will not bow. We will not submit to her, or the Forgotten. If she rises against us, we will send her and all her followers back to the oblivion from whence they came.”
Keirran bowed. “As you wish,” he murmured, with one final glance at the rulers of Mag Tuiredh. There might’ve been a hint of regret in his eyes, or I might’ve imagined it. “When next we meet, it will be on the field.”
And then, he turned and walked away, the knights flanking him once more. No one stopped them. No one said anything as the Iron Prince slipped into the hall without looking back, and the doors creaked shut behind him.
“It seems,” Oberon’s voice echoed into the deathly stillness that followed, “that the Iron Prince has made his choice.” His tone didn’t change, though you could practically hear the barb, pointed and accusing, as he glanced at Meghan across the table. “What is yours, Iron Queen?”
Meghan closed her eyes. Her back was turned to the other rulers, but I saw a tear slip down her face. Chilled, I looked at Ash, saw the grim resignation in his eyes, and wanted to kill Keirran for what he had done.
“I have no choice,” Meghan whispered. Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath, her voice growing stronger, though the heart-wrenching pain on her face never disappeared. “I hereby declare Prince Keirran a traitor to Faery,” she announced in clear, firm tones, “and exile him from the Iron Court. He is no longer under the protection of Mag Tuiredh, and all titles and privileges of rank have been stripped. Let this be made known to all—Keirran is now the enemy of Mag Tuiredh, the Iron Court and the Nevernever.”
* * *
The ride back to Mag Tuiredh was tense. Glitch didn’t say anything, though the strands in his hair snapped and flared an angry red, filling the air with a furious buzzing energy. He glowered out the window, surrounded by a miniature lightning storm, his eyes distant and dark. I sat as far away as I could get in the corner.
So, Keirran had really done it. Sided with the Lady and the Forgotten, marched right into the heart of Tir Na Nog and declared war on the entire Nevernever. I clenched my jaw, remembering Meghan’s face, the look in her eyes when she was forced to exile her own son.
Dammit, Keirran! What the hell was he doing? How had he fallen so far, to switch sides and declare war against his own family? I truly did not understand him, why he thought he had no other choice. What did he think he was saving? Had he reached the screw it point, where he thought nothing he did would matter anymore, or was there something else?
I was certain of one thing: if Keirran and I did cross paths again, all bets were off. I couldn’t think of him as family. He was my enemy, and I couldn’t hold back or I’d find myself with another sword through my insides.
When the carriages finally stopped, I glanced out the window, surprised to find myself in Mag Tuiredh. I’d half expected Meghan to send me back to the mortal world straight from Tir Na Nog. Now that war with the Forgotten was a sure thing, I wondered how much time would pass before she ordered me to go home.
Slowly, I climbed out of the carriage and made my way into the palace. Meghan and Ash stood in the vestibule, the Iron Queen deep in conversation with Fix, the packrat. I tiptoed past, hoping she wouldn’t notice me, but she straightened quickly and turned.
“Ethan.”
I winced. This was it; Meghan was sending me back to the mortal world. And, for the first time in my life, I didn’t want to go back. Not now. I knew my parents were probably frantic. I couldn’t even think of Kenzie for fear of breaking down. But this was my fight, too. I was partially responsible for everything that happened with Keirran. I couldn’t go home to one family knowing I had abandoned the other.
I turned, ready to protest, to find the words to convince my sister that I was in this, too. But Meghan had a strange look of resignation and amusement on her face as she gave me a faint smile.
“There is...someone waiting in your room,” she said, making me frown in confusion. And before I could ask what she meant, she took Ash’s arm and turned away, though the shadow of a smile lingered on her face. “Go see what they want, and I’ll speak to you later tonight. Try to take it easy for the rest of the evening.”
She tugged Ash’s arm, and they walked down the hall, though Ash gave her a brief, questioning look. I saw Meghan lean up and whisper something in his ear, and he pulled back, raising his eyebrows. They turned a corner and were out of sight before I could see more of his reaction, leaving me alone in the corridor.