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And there, lying half propped against the stone wall at the very back of the cell, as far from the bars as he could get, was Liath.
“Please, my Lady—you do not really wish to enter, do you?” the guard asked desperately.
“Yes, I do,” I said firmly. “If your courage fails you, feel free to wait outside while I visit my husband.”
This seemed to sting the guard for he lifted his chin and stepped into the room. Donning a pair of heavy cloth gloves which had been hung on a hook on the wall, he unlocked the door of the three-sided iron cage and swung it wide for me.
“You may go in, Princess,” he said in a slightly strangled voice. “But I don’t know how long you will be able to stand it in there.”
“I’ll be here until I’m certain my husband is well,” I told him. “Please, give us some privacy.”
I could see the guard was more than happy to grant my request. He didn’t even relock the cage door—he simply stripped off the cloth gloves and nearly ran from the room, banging the door closed behind him.
Good—now I could concentrate on Liath.
“Liath? My love?” I asked, entering the iron cage to be with him.
Though it didn’t hurt me, I could feel the weight of the deadly metal pressing down on me from all sides. How much worse would it be for someone who was truly affected by it, I wondered? It must be like being trapped at the bottom of the ocean with the enormous weight and pressure of the water all around you. Or possibly like being forced to stand near a fiery furnace that was scorching you every minute, but you couldn’t get away from it.
Whichever the case, I could see that it had taken a toll on my husband. Liath’s face was gray—not his normal color of gray, but the ashen shade of pure fatigue. There were dark circles under his bronze eyes and he was half sitting, half leaning against the stone wall, a look of sheer exhaustion on his face. He was no longer wearing his armor—someone had removed it. He had only his breeches and boots on and his chest was bare.
“Oh, Liath—my love!” I repeated, going to him and stroking his scarred cheek. “Are you all right? Please tell me you’re not wounded!”
“Wounded?” He spoke slowly, like a man in the middle of a dream. “No…not…wounded. Just tired and ill…all this iron…”
“Yes, I know—it’s awful,” I said quickly. “But I’m going to get you out of here and take you home! Come on!”
I tried to pull him to his feet—but I might as well have been trying to lift a horse—Liath was simply too big for me to budge.
“Come on,” I urged him again. “Try and help me!”
“Can’t move,” he muttered and nodded down at his right ankle. “Can’t…go anywhere. Sorry.”
I looked where he was nodding…and that was when I saw that my escape plot had hit a snag. I had been planning to simply cut a hole in the Great Divide and take him directly home to the Winter Court the moment we were alone together. However, there was a problem.
Not content to surround him on three sides with the iron bars, my cruel cousin had also had an iron manacle placed around Liath’s ankle. Thank goodness it was around his boot and not placed against his bare flesh, but even the tough leather could only mitigate the closeness of the deadly metal a little.
I had to get the manacle off of him!
Running out of the cell, I picked up the thick cloth gloves and put them on. The presence of the iron might not bother me, but I still wasn’t willing to touch it bare-handed.
I put on the gloves and came back to tug at the manacle around Liath’s booted ankle. But it was no good—there wasn’t even a keyhole or a lock on it—it appeared to have been welded on. It was also connected to a chain that was locked around one of the iron bars.
Asfaloth hadn’t been joking when he’d said that he intended for Liath to rot down here. There was no getting him out of this cell while he was manacled in iron and connected to the iron bars.
What was I going to do?
I took a deep breath. I was going to have to raise some power, I told myself—much more power than I’d been planning on. But I could do it…and I would start with reviving my husband so he could help me.
31
The idea of reviving Liath to full health was easier said than done, however. He had been surrounded by iron for more than a week—such an ordeal would have sapped the strength of any Fae—except for me.
I thanked my Mortal ancestor—whoever he might have been—for my immunity to the deadly metal. My ancestress Talandra who had been bred by so many Unseelie must have had a human lover too, who contributed his seed to the child that was started in her belly during her ordeal. Otherwise I would never be able to do what I was about to attempt.
