Heir of Iron Hearts: Iron Crown Faerie Tales Book 2

by Bekah Harris

  Before Ivy could react, her aunt had pulled a silver blade from her boot and was rushing toward Ivy. Suddenly, Bear pushed her to the side and tackled Alena. As Ivy fell to the ground, she saw Alena’s blade plunge quickly into Bear’s back before she yanked it back out.

  Ivy landed hard, the impact jarring her momentarily. When she stood once more, she was staring between two people she loved, both of them held at knife point. King Zane had her mother. Alena had Bear.

  “You’re in quite the predicament now,” Alena said, smirking. “Decisions, decisions, princess. Who’s it going to be? Your mother or your guard?”

  “Ivy, don’t you dare,” Bear said, but Alena cut off his words by applying pressure to his throat.

  Panic rose in Ivy’s throat, threatening to overtake all logic. She looked between her mother and Bear, left with an impossible choice.

  She met Bear’s eyes.

  Her heart pounded with regret.

  When he smiled at her, it nearly broke her. It’s okay, he seemed to say. As a member of the Queen’s guard, Bear had been trained since birth to protect the Winter Court. He would expect the same of her.

  Winter magic burned like ice in her chest as tears dripped down her cheeks, half-melted in the sultry summer air. She turned to King Zane and unleashed her power with an anguished cry. The air was frigid and snow began to fall from the sky around her. Ivy’s hands were freezing, so numb she barely felt the icicles that hovered just above her hands. Focusing in on her target, she launched them at King Zane, missing her mother by only a breath. The sharp point pierced his heart and froze it, ice rippling from his chest and covering him as he fell.

  By the time Ivy turned to Alena, her aunt had already burst into a self-contained blizzard, taking Bear with her.

  Ivy couldn’t feel her legs.

  She dropped to the ground like a stone, watching the snow twist through the air, her aunt’s laughter echoing in her ears.

  Feet moved in front of her. Voices babbled without meaning nearby. Lochlan kicked the dead Summer king aside and took her mother into his arms. Winter Fae surrounded them, combining their magic to help her. Finally, Jules’s voice broke through the buzzing in her head.

  “Ivy, oh, my God, are you okay? Are you alright?”

  Ivy slowly shook her head.

  No, she wasn’t okay. She might never be okay again. She had saved her mother. And she was glad. But she had lost Bear, and she didn’t know how she would ever forgive herself. She would find him. That was all. She’d just have to find him.

  Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her from the ground.

  “What’s wrong with her?” she heard Jules ask.

  “She used all the magic she had left,” a voice said beside her. Padraic? “She’s exhausted and needs her rest. She’ll be fine after she sleeps.”

  She blinked, catching a glimpse of the metallic smattering of stars that illuminated the night sky, just before she saw Ardan’s face hovering above hers. Ardan was carrying her.

  “You’re going to be okay,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

  Maybe she was just delirious, but the Unseelie prince wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t amused. He wasn’t looking down on her. In fact, the expression she had come to loathe had been replaced with…something else. Worry? Pain?

  Ivy was right on the edge of the perfect description when the world spun out of control and she fell into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jules was exhausted.

  She hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time for the past three days. She dozed occasionally in the chair beside Ivy’s bed, but there was no way she was leaving her truest friend. The Brownies, Madra and Nareena, had brought food and drinks, urging Jules to rest, but they were wasting their breath. Padraic had been to visit, bringing Winter Roses, and Lochlan checked in every hour for an update, but there had been no change. Ivy was still sleeping in her massive bed, restless with fever.

  Winter and Unseelie Fae came in and out all day to lend Ivy their magic. But the most surprising discovery in all of this was Ardan’s devotion. He had left her only once at the command of his father. The Unseelie Prince had sat next to Ivy on the other side of the bed, watching her, just staring down at her with an unreadable expression for hours.

  It would have been sweet…if it were anyone but Ardan.

  Jules pressed an icy cold cloth to Ivy’s forehead, hoping to cool her fever. Lochlan had said the hours in the Summer Court had weakened her to start with and her use of magic had done the rest. The Winter magi had visited, looking like more glamourous versions of Death in their silvery robes. They had anointed her with oils and smudged the room with sage. Jules had no clue if it had worked or not, but Ivy was no worse, at least.

  “She’ll be fine,” Ardan said. “She just needs a few days. She just needs to rest a few more days.”

  Jules stared across the bed at him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his dark hair, clearly worried.

  “What’s with you, anyway?” Jules asked. “What happened to all your jealous little games and plots?”

  Ardan just shook his head. “It’s my fault. I helped Alena escape.”

  “And now, the Summer King is dead, Lyric is fighting for her life, and Ivy won’t wake up.” Jules shrugged. “How do you think I feel? I apparently unlocked the door after being mind-freaked by your faerie voodoo.”

  “It was wrong of me to do that to you,” Ardan said. “It was wrong of me to bring you here in the first place.”

  “You could always make it up to me by removing this stupid mark.” Jules held up her arm. “No hard feelings?”

  But Ardan only shook his head. Jules sighed. What a psycho. She didn’t know whether to feel justified in her annoyance or scold herself for her coldness. He was obviously having some sort of moral crisis, but she just couldn’t muster up the energy to feel sorry for him.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

  Holly, who was standing watch in the hallway, opened the door, allowing Padraic inside. He crossed the room and stood beside Jules. Her stomach was invaded by treacherous little butterflies.

  “Any change?” he asked, leaning against Jules’ chair.

  She shook her head. “Her fever still hasn’t broken, and with Ivy and Queen Lyric both out of commission, the Winter magic is weak right now.”

  Padraic held up a fancy sort of box adorned with gold scrollwork. “I brought dinner.”

  Jules smirked. “What is that? Some kind of royal lunchbox?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I believe humans call it a ‘cooler’ if I’m not mistaken.”

  Jules rifled around inside and found a variety of fruits inside. He had thought of her, and though she would never admit it, Jules was melting with the gesture.

  Padraic suddenly looked away from her, though, as if he had just remembered there were other people in the room. He glanced at his brother.

  “Ardan, when’s the last time you took a shower?”

  Ardan shrugged without response.

  “You need to take a shower. You’re going to stink Ivy into perpetual chastity if she wakes up and gets a whiff of you. I’ve met Hellhounds that smell better.”

  Ardan ran his hands through his hair and looked up from glazed eyes. A smartass reply was on the tip of Jules’ tongue, but something about his eyes made her swallow the words. It was like he was in actual…pain. She exchanged a look of concern with Padraic.

  “Go on,” Padraic said gently. “We’ll stand watch here. If anything changes, we’ll send for you right away. You have my word.”

  Finally, Ardan nodded. Then, he leaned over Ivy and kissed her forehead. Without a word, he seemed to float, ghostlike, through the room and out the door.

  When he was out of sight, Jules stood from her chair and stretched. “When did your brother grow a conscience? It’s like it happened overnight.”

  Padraic con
sidered her question for several moments, as if choosing his words with care. “Ardan is reckless, irresponsible, and selfish. Those are facts. But every once in a while, I have the rare honor of catching glimpses of who he really is—who he could always be—if he weren’t so busy playing his self-proclaimed role as rebellious prince.”

  Jules turned his words over in her mind and raised her eyebrows.

  “I know,” Padraic said, holding up his hands. “It surprises me, as well.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Jules said, “but Ardan has a long way to go if he ever wants Ivy’s respect. She doesn’t trust anyone, and Ardan’s already on her naughty list.”

  Before Padraic could reply, the sheets rustled behind them. Jules whirled around just in time to see Ivy blinking herself awake and trying her best to sit up in bed. Padraic hurried beside her to help, lifting her as Jules readjusted her pillows. They both stood back, waiting for Ivy to orient herself. Finally, she focused on them.

  “It’s alive!” Jules said, dramatically.

  Ivy laughed, but the sound held little humor.

  “Is my mother okay? Did she make it?”

  Jules nodded. “She’s recovering down the hall. Madra has been overjoyed. She’s been ordering people out of the room and buzzing around the castle barking commands.”

  “Is she alright?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Padraic said. “The Magi have been in daily to counteract the poison that made it to her bloodstream. Lochlan has been making sure she has everything she needs.”

  Ivy nodded absently. “And Bear?” She cleared her throat. “What about Barrett? And Alena?”

  “My father reported that she made it through the portals to the human realm. From what his spies conveyed, Barrett was with her, bleeding but alive.”

  Ivy jerked the covers back and stood, wobbling and swaying on her feet. Jules slipped an arm around her to steady her.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, Barry Allen!” Jules said. “Geez, eat some breakfast first. You haven’t had anything to eat in three days.”

  Before Jules could even ask Padraic, he was across the floor and ringing for Madra and Nareena.

  “I need to see my mother,” Ivy said. “And then I’m going after Alena.”

  “Your Highness, you can’t just go to the human realm right now,” Padraic said. “It’s too risky. You need a plan.”

  “Watch me,” Ivy said. “Now, get out of my way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Pain seared through Lyric’s shoulder as she twisted to reach her water. What she really wanted was a nice cup of tea, but after the last experience, she’d rather not tempt fate. She’d had enough encounters with poisonous flowers to last three lifetimes.

  She took a long sip, relishing the coolness of it, and then swallowed it down before turning back to the stacks of documents arranged in neat piles she’d been going through. Casualty lists, notifications for families, details about the guards still missing, and finally, the latest draft of a new accord between Winter and Summer.

  She sighed. Peace. It would be a welcome change after so many years.

  Queen Vera had visited to check on her the day before, apologizing for her late husband’s role in her kidnapping and attempted murder. Lyric had always liked Queen Vera, and despite the rumors about Prince Damarion, his loyalty to his mother was, perhaps, a good sign of a peaceful future. Lyric would sign the accord. She hoped it would be a lasting peace. But she knew as well as any other Court ruler that immortality came with unrest, and before long, there would be more thirst for blood and power.

  A knock at the door interrupted Lyric’s melancholy thoughts.

  Lochlan entered the room, closing the door behind him.

  “How are you feeling today, My Lady?” He bowed over her hand, pressing a kiss to her skin.

  “Thankful to be alive,” she said. “Thankful I have such a capable daughter.”

  Lochlan smiled. “You should have seen her, Lyric. In the middle of the Summer Realm, where her magic is the weakest, she looked at King Zane like he was no more an obstacle than a snowflake. She harnessed her magic in only seconds and hurled a dozen icicles right into his heart.”

  Lyric smiled. She had her father’s courage. She took Lochlan’s hand and squeezed. “She chose my life over Barrett’s. She chose my life over capturing Alena.” It was overwhelming. “I longed for her return for seventeen agonizing years. I thought of her every day, imagining what she was doing, how she was growing up. But I never dreamed she would be so intelligent, so brave. I have done nothing to deserve her, but she is a rarity indeed.”

  “That she is,” Lochlan agreed.

  He smiled down at her, but there was something more. She could see it in his expression. Something was bothering him.

  “Say what is on your mind,” Lyric said. “I can see the worry. It’s etched into every feature.”

  “Ivy will never forgive herself if Barrett does not return,” Lochlan said. “You know she won’t rest until he is located and brought home.”

  Lyric sighed. Lochlan was right. She had been thinking of a way to bring Barrett home that would also keep Ivy safe within the confines of the castle. Her daughter would want to go after her guard, but after all Lyric had endured to keep her safe over the years, she could simply not allow her daughter to leave the Winter Court, no matter how strong her feelings. And there was also the issue of the Unseelie Prince to consider. Even if Lyric could nullify the contract she had made with King Odrhan, Ivy had forged her own deal. Had sealed her own fate. She had agreed to marry Prince Ardan—and if Lyric knew anything about the Unseelie King, she knew he would soon petition for a swift marriage.

  “Ivy did what she had to so that she could bring you home safely,” Lochlan said. “She clearly doesn’t love Ardan, but you are home safe. It’s what she wanted. It’s what she agreed to.”

  Lyric couldn’t help but feel regret. It seemed fate was always against them. Just as she had resolved to destroy the contract based on Ardan’s betrayal, Ivy forged a new deal. It simply wasn’t fair. But Odrhan would never see it that way.

  There was another light peck on the door. Lochlan crossed the room, cracking the door, just before opening it wide to reveal Ivy, clad in full combat gear and belts weighed down with weapons.

  They looked at one another in silence for a time. Then, Ivy swiftly strode toward her and wrapped her arms gently around Lyric.

  “Thank you,” whispered Lyric. “I know what this has cost you.”

  Though Ivy didn’t speak, Lyric felt the sharp intake of her daughter’s breath and the jagged sorrow in its release. Lyric rubbed her back gently.

  “It’s okay,” Lyric whispered. “We will get him back.”

  Ivy straightened then, and sat down in the bedside chair. “I’m going after him. I have to.”

  “No,” Lyric said. “That is out of the question.”

  “Her Majesty is right,” Lochlan said. “It is far too dangerous. I have already assembled a team. Once they have been given their orders, they will infiltrate the human realm, locate Barrett, and bring him home.”

  “And Alena?” Ivy asked.

  “She will be apprehended—dead or alive.”

  Ivy nodded. “Who will protect the Winter Court while your team is away? Our numbers have dwindled significantly, thanks to Alena.”

  “King Odrhan has been gracious enough to provide extra guards,” Lyric said. “He has been very accommodating since…your new agreement.”

  Ivy didn’t react. She didn’t blink or flinch or shudder. Either Ivy was in denial of her situation or she knew exactly what she had done and was resolved to go through with it.

  “And yet, I lived in the Human Realm for seventeen years. I know how to navigate it. I’ll be more useful in locating Bear and Alena than any of your forces.”

  Lyric reached out and took Ivy’s hand. “You are brave and fierce beyond my wildest expectations,” she said. “But I need you here, safe within these walls. Our Fae
guards have been trained since childhood to carry out missions in every court and every realm, including the Human Realm. I will not risk your safety by allowing you to go with them when they are perfectly capable on their own.”

  “But I could help, I could—”

  “I will not allow it,” Lyric said.

  It hurt her to refuse Ivy anything she wanted, but she had always acted with Ivy’s safety in mind, and she wouldn’t risk it now.

  Ivy opened her mouth, as if to argue, but seemed to think better of it. She nodded at her mother, then, and stood.

  “I am glad you are okay,” she said.

  Then, without a word, her daughter straightened her spine and walked out of the room. Lyric felt sick. She knew just how Ivy felt. But even so, she could never allow her to go after her guard, regardless of how much Ivy cared for Bear. Because of how much she cared for him.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Before Bear even opened his eyes, he knew he was not in the Summer or the Winter Courts. The air was thinner all around him, which was a quality of the Human Realm. He clenched his fingers, grabbing hold of something soft. A blanket, maybe?

  He opened his eyes to a bright room. Sunlight streamed in through multiple windows that cast rainbowlike prisms over light blue wallpaper dotted with tiny flowers. The scent of sweet mint and chamomile wafted through the air, filling him with a strange sense that he was somewhere familiar.

  He sat up, scanning the rest of the room. He was in a tall four-poster bed with a light blue canopy suspended above him. A well-worn arm chair was nestled in the corner of the room beside a small table that held up a reading lamp. A wide dresser stood against the wall in the center of the room. Framed pictures were displayed proudly on top, but it was the frame in the center that Bear zeroed-in upon.

  Ivy.

  Or, a younger version of her, anyway. She was settled in the chair, holding a book, her expression revealing that she was engrossed entirely in the story and unaware that she had become a photographer’s muse. Wherever he was, there were photographs of Ivy. The question was whether or not that was a good thing. A few more hung on the walls.