Page 51 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron
“I’m assuming Ruskin sent you,” I say, closing the door behind her. The anger from yesterday returns when I look at the proof standing before me that Ruskin will do whatever he pleases—and that my preferences don’t matter.
“Yes, he did,” Halima replies in her usual concise way.
“Well, you can tell Ruskin that I’m not some prize sow to be guarded, and that if he thinks I need a babysitter?—”
“I’m not here to guard you,” Halima says, a line appearing between her brows.
Surprise takes the wind out of my frustration.
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m here to train you.” I think even the usually stoic Halima looks a little smug at correcting me. “Dawnsong said that if you aren’t going to accept protection, you need to get better at protecting yourself.”
“Really?” So he heard me after all and was willing to compromise—at least a little. Of all the people he could have chosen to train me, I know he picked Halima because she’s the one he trusts most to keep me safe if there’s another attack—but agreeing to have me trained is still more bending on his part than I expected. I feel untethered by the discovery. I’m pleased by Ruskin coming around, but why did he have to be so stubborn in the first place, and why am I struggling, even now, to trust this olive branch?
“Yes, and I agree. It is a good idea. The Seelie Court is…turbulent at the moment. Random violence is more likely, especially without any immediate resolution to its problems.”
I recall the fragment of conversation I overheard between Halima and the guard. I get the sense she’s not just referring to the iron attacks, but also the general instability since Evanthe woke up. Halima likes order and straightforwardness, and I can see it’s disturbing her to be in such a gray area where the court’s leadership is concerned.
“So what, you’re going to teach me to fight?”
“To begin with. There will be specific magical training too, seeing as your enemies are also likely to use their magic against you. The training will also help you grow both your physical and magical strength, and that, in turn, may improve your ability to tackle the iron.”
“Sounds sensible.”
“There’s something else.” She reaches into her belt and pulls out a roll of parchment tucked there. “This came for you.”
I snatch it up eagerly, unrolling it to see Dad’s writing.
Nora,
I know you would not stay unless it was the right thing to do. But come back to me as soon as you can. Come home.
All my love,
Dad
The shortness of the note makes me bite my lip. I’d written him pages of rambling explanations as to why I had to stay—a lot of it vague, because I didn’t want to scare him—but his letter makes clear he doesn’t care about any of that. He knows he has no control in this, and it hurts my heart, but what he’s written is true: this is the right thing to do.
I roll the paper back up, trying to put it from my mind.
“All right,” I say. I agreed to stay here and help with the Seelie’s troubles, so it needs to be worth it. I’m ready for the challenge, whatever it takes. “Where do we start?”
“With you putting some proper clothes on.”
Halima takes me to the armory first, where we quickly discover that regular fae armor like the kind she wears is far too heavy for me. After some complaining under her breath about weak human limbs, Halima finds me something designed for fae children which fits me at a stretch: a thick leather chest piece, and guards for my forearms and thighs. I can at least move around in them without fear of toppling over.
Then she hands me the thing I’ve not been looking forward to—my sword. The blade is thin—again, made for children to learn with, she tells me—and while it’s not too heavy, the weapon just seems unwieldy in my hand. I hold it awkwardly in front of me, worried I might accidentally cut myself.
Halima rolls her eyes and taps the scabbard on my belt.
“Sheathe it for now.”
She takes me to a courtyard beyond the memorial square and the stables. This one is sparsely decorated, and the area mostly cleared of the plants that otherwise seem to cover every inch of the palace. The ground isn’t paved or mossy, but of loose earth with a labyrinth of tracks trodden into it, evidence of the thousands of dances that have taken place on it before now.
Halima directs me to stand opposite her. Looking up at her towering form, I start to feel nervous, realizing we’re really going to do this.
“First,” she says, drawing her sword so smoothly it’s like the blade is part of her, “you need to know how to hold a blade.”
