Julie Kagawa - The Iron Knight

“I said—” Whirling abruptly, I came face-to-face with Puck, close enough to see my reflection in his startled green eyes. “Leave it alone, Puck.”

For all his buffoonery, Robin Goodfellow was no fool. We’d known each other a long time, both as friends and rivals, and he knew me better than anyone, sometimes better than I knew myself. The irreverent smirk vanished, and his eyes became hard as stone. We stared at each other, inches apart, while the wind picked up and howled around us, stirring up a cyclone of leaves and dust.

“Having second thoughts?” Puck’s voice was soft and dangerous, a far cry from his normal flippancy. “I thought we’d put this behind us for now.”

“Never,” I said, matching his stare. “I can’t ever take it back, Goodfellow. I’m still going to kill you. I swore to her I would.” Lightning flickered and thunder rumbled in the distance as we faced each other with narrowed eyes. “One day,” I said softly. “One day you’ll look up, and I’ll be there. That’s the only ending for us. Don’t ever forget.”

Puck slowly cocked his head, regarding me intently. “Is this Ash talking? Or the oath?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I stepped back, holding his gaze, unwilling to turn my back on him. “It can never be the same, Puck. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that it is.”

“I’ve never forgotten, prince.” Puck watched me with solemn eyes glowing green in the sudden darkness. Lightning flashed through the trees again, and thunder growled an answer. Puck’s next words were nearly lost in the wind. “You’re not the only one with regrets.”

I turned and walked away from him, feeling cold and empty, the darkness coiling around my heart. At the bottom of the slope, Grimalkin sat on a stump, tail curled over his feet, watching us with unblinking golden eyes.

WE FOUND A CAVE, or rather, an annoyed, impatient Grimalkin led us to a cave, seconds before the sky opened up and the rain poured down. As the light rapidly disappeared, I left Puck poking the fire and retreated to a dark corner. Sitting with my back against the wall, I pulled one knee to my chest and glowered into the distant flames.

“And so it begins.”

Grimalkin appeared beside me, seated on a rock, watching Puck tend the campfire. The flames cast a burning orange halo around the cat. I gave him a sideways glance, but he didn’t return it. “What do you mean?”

“I warned you this was no simple quest. I told you before, you and Goodfellow have no idea what lies ahead.” He twitched an ear and shifted on the rock, still watching the fire. “You feel it, do you not? The anger. The darkness.” I blinked in surprise, but Grimalkin paid no heed. “It will only get worse the farther we go.”

“Where are we going?” I asked softly. A sudden hiss from the campfire showed Puck hanging a skinned rabbit over the flames. Where he’d gotten it, I didn’t even want to guess, and I turned back to Grimalkin. “I know we’re going to the seer, but you still haven’t told us where.”

The cait sith pretended not to hear. Yawning, he stretched languidly, raking his claws over the stones, and trotted off to oversee dinner preparations.

Outside, the storm howled and raged, bending trees and blowing rain at a sharp angle across the mouth of the cave. The fire crackled cheerfully, licking at the rabbit carcass, and the smell of roasted meat began to fill the chamber.

And yet, something wasn’t right.

I rose and wandered to the cave mouth, gazing out at the storm. Wind tugged at me, spattering my face with raindrops. Beyond the lip of the cavern, rain skittered over the ground in waves, like silver curtains tossed by the wind.

Something was out there. Watching us.

“Hey, ice-boy.” Puck appeared at my side, peering into the rain with me. He acted perfectly normal, as if the words between us earlier that day had never happened. “Whatcha looking at?”

“I don’t know.” I searched the trees, the shadows, my gaze cutting through the storm, peeling back the darkness, but could see nothing unusual. “It feels like we’re being watched.”

“Huh.” Puck scratched the side of his face. “I don’t feel anything like that. And Furball is still here, so that’s something. You know if there was anything dangerous coming he’d be gone faster than you could say poof. Sure you’re not being paranoid?”

The rain continued to fall, and nothing moved beyond in the darkness and shadow. “I don’t know,” I said again. “Maybe.”

“Well, you can stand here and worry. I’m going to eat. If you see something big and hungry coming at us, just ye—”

“Goodfellow.”

My voice made him pause, then turn back, wary and guarded. We stared at each other by the mouth of the cave, the storm whipping at us and making the campfire flicker.

“Why are you here?”

He blinked, made a halfhearted attempt at humor. “Uh … because I don’t want to get wet?”

I just waited. Puck sighed, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “Do we really have to go through this, iceboy?” he said, and though the words were light, his tone was almost pleading. “I think we both know the reason I’m here.”

“What if I asked you to leave?”

“Why would you want to do that?” Puck grinned, but it quickly faded. “This is about what happened earlier, isn’t it?” he said. “What’s going on, Ash? Two days ago, you were fine. We were fine.”

I glanced over to where Grimalkin sat watching the spitted rabbit with something a bit stronger than curiosity. I could feel the darkness in me rising again, despite my attempts to freeze it out. “I’m going to kill you,” I said softly, and Puck’s eyebrows rose. “Not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. Our past is catching up to us, Goodfellow, and this feud has gone on long enough.” I looked back at him, meeting his solemn gaze. “I’m giving you this chance now to leave. Run. Find Meghan, tell her what I’m trying to do. If I don’t come back, take care of her for me.” I felt my chest squeeze tight at the thought of Meghan, of never seeing her again. But at least Puck would be there for her if I failed. “Get out of here, Puck. It would be better for both of us if you were gone.”

“Huh. Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel wanted, prince.” Puck glared at me, not quite able to mask his anger. Pushing himself off the wall, he took a step forward, never looking away. “Here’s a heads-up, though—I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you threaten, bribe, coerce, or beg. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mostly here for her, not you, but I’m betting this isn’t something you can do alone. So you’re going to have to suck it up and get used to me, prince, ‘cause unless you want that duel right here, right now, I’m not leaving. And I can be just as stubborn as you.”

Outside, lightning flickered, turning everything white, and the gale tossed the branches of the trees. Puck and I glared at each other until we were interrupted by a loud pop from the campfire. Breaking eye contact at last, Puck glanced over his shoulder and let out a yelp.

“Hey!” Whirling around, he stalked back toward the fire, and its now-empty spit, waving his arms. “My rabbit! Grimalkin, you sneaky, gray … pig! I hope you enjoy that, ‘cause the next thing over the fire might be you!”

As expected, there was no answer. I smiled to myself and turned back to the rain. The violence of the storm had not abated, nor had my feeling of being watched, though continued searches of the trees and shadows yielded nothing.

“Where are you?” I mused under my breath. “I know you can see me. Why can’t I find you?”

The storm seemed to mock me. I stood, looking out, until the wind finally died down and the rain slowed to a drizzle. All through the night, I stood there, waiting. But whatever was watching me from its mysterious location never made itself known.