A Ghost in the House of Iron

Chapter Fifteen

I hate this place, Balsevor says.

I roll my eyes, but I can't say I disagree. There's something off-putting about being underground, earth and tree-roots and solid rock layered above you. It feels like being smothered by heavy blankets. Maybe I've been stuck in a body with a sun dragon for too long, but I much prefer the open sky.

"You shouldn't be here," a hushed voice says. A tall young man steps from the shadows, dressed in courtly garb, gold embroidery glinting in the dimly lit tunnel. The sidhe never seem to belong among the rocks and dirt; they're too shiny, polished. Perhaps they prefer the contrast, gleaming gemstones nestled in a pile of debris. Or maybe they see a beauty in their underground corridors that I simply don't. There's definitely no artistry to these outer caverns. They look like they were dug out by giant moles clawing blindly.

"Cassian," I say, recognizing him. A faerie prince, coming out to greet a human at the edge of Underhill? What have I gotten myself into?

He puts a finger in front of his lips. When he shakes his head, golden locks of hair fall in front of his eyes, and he flicks them back into place with an expert tilt of his head. "Korrigan told of your coming," he whispers. "You won't be welcomed. You must go."

"What sway does Korrigan have over the queen and her court?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Very little, but it's not difficult to turn a flock of fae against a human man."

"Why warn me if I'm walking into a trap? You owe me no debts." I am always suspicious of acts of kindness from a courtly fae. They make it so easy to fall into unpleasant deals and bindings. Led away from one trap and into another.

He smiles, a flash of pointed teeth. "I like you, Wizard," he says. "You wouldn't have survived this long in The Wood if you weren't clever." He pauses. "And maybe I like to see my mother disappointed."

Ask him, Balsevor says. He seems less vile than the rest. Or, better yet, forget this awful notion about glamour and follow his advice. Leave.

"I'd like to make a deal," I say, after a moment of thought.

"I don't want to play games with you, Wizard," Cassian says, rolling his eyes. "I have plenty of that with my own kind."

"I require the power of glamour. I am willing to pay with information or a blood debt to one who would teach me."

Balsevor hisses at that, obviously appalled.

Cassian studies me, eyes narrowed. "Impossible."

"Try me," I say, with confidence I have no right to have. I have no idea if I'm capable of glamour. Humans generally aren't, but I'm not quite human anymore.

"You want a trinket that'll disguise your appearance? Some twinkly bauble to hang around your neck and make you look prettier, or taller, or thinner? I have a few in my jewelry box." Another eyeroll. "But true glamour? I can smell the human in you. Quite..." He sniffs. "Pungent. You might as well try to light fire to the sea."

"If that's what it will take, watch the waves burst into flame," I say, and the feathers along my arms flicker and spark, fluttering in a non-existent wind. I'm getting frustrated with everyone telling me what I can and can't do.

Hmm, doable, but you'd have to- Balsevor starts. He seems to reconsider the usefulness of his input when I let out a low snarl.

Cassian watches me spin on my heel and stalk back the way I came, his head tilted in puzzlement. As soon as I reach the surface, I leap into the air. I leave a trail of smoke across the sky.