To my vast relief, the iron was cold, but not unreasonably so. I could feel it warming a bit against my skin, but it didn’t feel like it was burning me. Mainly, it just felt heavy.
The fact that I had withstood the first bracelet so calmly seemed to win me a lot of brownie points with the ever-growing crowd of observers in the back of the hall.
“Hark at the child—see how she doesn’t flinch a bit!” one woman murmured.
“And see how the iron leaves no mark upon her skin!” whispered another.
“Not a single tear,” marveled the man, who had been certain the pain would drive me mad.
My reaction—or lack of it—wasn’t lost on Lady Starchild either.
“Hardened girl!” she exclaimed, glaring down at me from her podium. “Have you no shame? How can you display no pain or remorse even when you are punished? Bailiff—the other bracelet—and the rings!” she demanded, not giving me a chance to answer.
Still wearing the thick leather gloves, the bailiff put the other iron bracelet on my right hand. But he had difficulty picking up the rings with the clumsy gloves on.
“Here,” I said. “I’ll help you.”
Leaning forward, I plucked the first iron ring from the velvet-lined box. It was heavy and cold as a lump of ice in my palm but at least it—like the bracelets—was smooth to the touch, so the iron wouldn’t scratch my skin.
My easy movements as I slid the iron rings on my fingers—one on the left ring finger and one on the right—didn’t escape the watching crowd.
“Look at her—see her touch the rings as though they were nothing!” one woman exclaimed.
“The iron doesn’t burn her at all” another cried. “How can it be?”
Apparently, Lady Starchild wanted to know the same thing.
“Bailiff!” she snapped, “Are you certain you’ve gotten the right bracelets and rings? The iron ones?”
“Yes, m’lady.” The bailiff nodded and frowned. “I daren’t touch them myself—they’re red hot. I can feel it even though my gloves.” He held up the thick, clumsy leather gloves to show her.
“Then how is it that the iron does not burn her?” Lady Starchild demanded.
“I don’t know, m’ lady.” He shook his head, looking baffled.
“Never mind!” Lady Starchild snapped. “Just take her away to the dungeons!”
“But Mother, she hasn’t been properly punished!” Morganna whined, glaring at me. “At least flog her! If the iron won’t burn her, she must bleed for what she did to me!”
“Very true, my sweet.” Lady Starchild nodded, her perfect golden hair waving with the motion. “Very well—Bailiff,” she called. “I have changed my mind—since the iron has no effect on the girl, she must be beaten instead!”
Beaten? Flogged? My heart was suddenly in my chest as I watched the bailiff put away the box the iron bracelets and rings had come out of, and pull out a long, evil-looking black whip instead. It was tipped with a bunch of sharp little metal barbs that looked like fishhooks and I could just imagine what they would do to my skin.
Then Bran and Lachlan were stepping forward and pushing me behind them protectively.
“You will not touch our lady with that whip,” Bran growled, drawing his long sword and holding it up so that it gleamed menacingly.
“You’ll have to get through us first,” Lachlan added and the crystal at the end of his staff began to glow a deep red, like a warning sign, I thought.
“You dare to circumvent the will of this Court?” Lady Starchild exclaimed. “I’ll have all three of you whipped within an inch of your lives! You’ll be wearing iron collars in the dungeons and eating nothing but dust and ashes until you starve to death! You’ll—”
“What is the meaning of this?” an angry voice called from the back of the hall.
A sudden hush fell over the room and then I heard the whispers starting.
“The Queen!”
“Queen Elia!”
“Bow down—make way for her!”
The crowd parted, making a path down the middle of the hall and then I saw her for the first time—Queen Elia of the Summer Court.
78
She was a little old lady with silver hair, who might have been my grandmother’s age—if I had a grandmother, that was. But despite her tiny stature—or maybe because of it—she was imposing. She carried herself with a stately air, head up and back ramrod straight. Her flashing eyes had a triple ringed iris just like mine, although hers were blue—cobalt blue on the outside, sky blue in the middle, and pale, arctic blue right around the pupil—that made her stare even more imposing.
Scurrying along behind her was the woman I’d thought looked like a domestic servant—the one the other Fae had said was the Queen’s maid. Had she asked Queen Elia to interfere on my behalf? If so, I was determined to find her later and thank her.
But there was no telling if the Queen was coming to rescue me or not. She gave me a quick, but comprehensive look, before turning to Lady Starchild, who had an uncertain expression on her haughty, pretty face.
“Now then, Lady Starchild,” she said, frowning at the other woman. “What’s this I hear about you holding a trial without me and sentencing a young girl to a year and a day in irons?”
“Your Highness!” Lady Starchild faltered. “I…I did not want to bother you with such a trivial matter. The girl is nothing but a half-breed—see her hair color?”
“Yes, I see.” The Fae queen gave me another piercing look. I lifted my chin and gave it back to her. I was not in the wrong here, I thought, and I refused to let myself look guilty. “But her blood is not a sufficient cause for such a steep sentence—why a year and a day wearing iron is something only the gravest offender would merit. Grown men would weep at the idea, and this girl is only a child!”
“She deserves it, Your Majesty!” Morganna exclaimed, stepping forward, though her mother was making frantic motions at her to get back in the corner. “Look what she did to me!” And she whipped the white cloth off her head dramatically, showing her perfectly bald head to the queen.
The rest of the gathered crowd—because the hall was packed by now—gasped at the sight. But Queen Elia only gave Morganna a steady, unimpressed look.
“Morganna, isn’t it?” she said, frowning. “As I recall, you were sent away from the Summer Court to the human world because of some nasty business you got up to with a couple of the Outer Court guardsmen. Isn’t that right?” She lifted a silver eyebrow at Morganna, who flushed angrily—which was really easy to see, since she was so completely bald. Even her scalp got pink with embarrassment, but she still refused to back down.
“I went to the human world, yes, Your Majesty,” she said. “And that is where I met this nasty little wanna-be Fae!” She pointed at me. “She didn’t look like anything but an ugly little Norm up until a few weeks ago, when that other half-breed took some kind of spell off her.” She pointed at Lachlan, who was still standing with Bran, between me and the bailiff and his whip.
“Is that right?” The Queen looked at me again, and this time I thought I saw interest in her triple-ringed eyes. She looked at Lachlan too. “What kind of spell did you take off the girl?”