Iron's Prophecy (10 page)

“Ah.” Ash leaned back against the railing, drawing me with him. “I was wondering when that would come up.”

“I’m sorry, Ash,” I said quickly. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. I just thought…you’ve been so calm through all of this. I wondered…if you had seen anything…”

“No.” Ash tightened his grip, stopping me from leaving. He met my gaze and smiled. “I didn’t see anything of the oracle’s prophecy, Meghan. If I did, if anything like that had happened to us, even in that dream, I would have told you. I swear.”

“Oh.” I was relieved, though a tiny bit disappointed, as well. If Ash had seen that future, we might know what was coming, what to expect. We might be able to prevent it.

Ash ran his hands up my arms, his gaze thoughtful. “It’s strange,” he mused, looking past me at the distant lights of Mag Tuiredh. “I can barely remember anything of that life anymore. I remember you, and our son, and ruling Mag Tuiredh, but…it’s fading. I lose more of it every day.” He gave his head a tiny shake, looking back at me. “I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. That life, it wasn’t real. This…” He framed my cheek, his silver eyes intense as they met mine. “This is real. This is what’s important to me now. I’m not worried about the future, whatever it brings. I have all I need, right here.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” I sighed.

Ash pulled me closer, his eyes gentle as they gazed into mine. “Meghan, I’m going to tell you something someone once told me, when I was afraid of what was to come.” He lowered his head, soft strands of his hair brushing my skin. “Nothing is certain,” he murmured. “The future is constantly changing, and no one can predict what happens next. We have the power to change our destiny, because fate is not set in stone, and we are always free to make a choice.” His fingers came up to brush my hair back, tucking it behind one ear. “A very powerful seer told me that, once. And she was right. That’s why I’m not afraid of the oracle’s prophecy, or the future. We are only slaves to fate if we let it control us. There is always a choice.”

I sniffed. “I wish you had told me that earlier,” I mock grumbled at him. “It would’ve saved me a lot of freaking out.”

Ash chuckled, low and deep. “I didn’t know it would shake you so badly. The Meghan I know doesn’t let small things like oracles and Prophecies of Doom stand in her way.” I pinched his ribs, and he grunted a laugh. “I do know one thing,” he continued. “Whatever this child will be, whatever it grows into, it will be loved. No prophecy, oracle, warning or premonition will ever change that.”

He was right, and in that moment, I didn’t think it was possible to love him more than I did right then. Leaning into him, I closed my eyes, and he gathered me close. Tilting my chin up, he kissed me gently, and I wrapped my arms around his waist. No matter what happened, if he was beside me, if we stood beside each other, we could face whatever the world threw at us.

“Ash,” I whispered, my heart soaring with happiness, with relief and love, as I pulled back to face him. “Can you believe it? You’re going to be a father.”

His hand slipped down to my belly, palm gently pressing against my stomach, as his eyes shone with wonder and awe. He was going to be a father. We were going to be a family. “So,” I ventured, smiling at him through my tears. “I guess the only question left is, what are we going to name him?”

Ash raised his head, meeting my gaze, and smiled back.

“I’ve always liked the name Keirran.”

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from
The Immortal Rules
by Julie Kagawa

If you loved
Iron’s Prophecy,
don’t miss the rest of the
Iron Fey
series, by
New York Times
bestselling author Julie Kagawa.

The Iron Fey Series

The Iron Fey are slowly destroying the Nevernever, home of the original faeries. It is up to Meghan Chase, half-human daughter of the Summer King, to stop them and somehow find a way for both species to survive.

The Iron King
(Book 1)
Winter’s Passage
(ebook)
The Iron Daughter
(Book 2)
The Iron Queen
(Book 3)
Summer’s Crossing
(ebook)
The Iron Knight
(Book 4)

Check out
The Immortal Rules,
the first book in Julie’s
Blood of Eden
series, available now.

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Chapter 1

They hung the Unregistereds in the old warehouse district; it was a public execution, so everyone went to see.

I stood at the back, a nameless face in the crowd, too close to the gallows for comfort but unable to look away. There were three of them this time, two boys and a girl. The oldest was about my age, seventeen and skinny, with huge frightened eyes and greasy dark hair that hung to his shoulders. The other two were even younger, fourteen and fifteen if I had to guess, and siblings, since they both had the same stringy yellow hair. I didn’t know them; they weren’t part of my crowd. Still, they had the same look of all Unregistereds; thin and ragged, their eyes darting about like trapped animals. I crossed my arms tightly, feeling their desperation. It was over. The trap had closed; the hunters had caught them, and there was no place for them to run.

The pet stood on the edge of the platform, puffed up and swaggering, as if he had caught the kids himself. He was walking back and forth, pointing to the condemned and rattling off a list of crimes, his pale eyes gleaming with triumph.

“…assaulting a citizen of the Inner City, robbery, trespassing and resisting arrest. These criminals attempted to steal Class One foodstuffs from the private warehouse of the Inner City. This is a crime against you, and more important, a crime against our benevolent Masters.”

I snorted. Fancy words and legal mumbo jumbo didn’t erase the fact that these “criminals” were just doing what all Unregistereds did to survive. For whatever reasons, fate, pride or stubbornness, we nonregistered humans didn’t have the mark of our vampire masters etched into our skin, the brands that told you who you were, where you lived and who you belonged to. Of course, the vampires said it was to keep us safe, to keep track of everyone within the city, to know how much food they had to allow for. It was for our own good. Yeah, right. Call it what you wanted, it was just another way to keep their human cattle enslaved. You might as well be wearing a collar around your neck.

There were several good things about being Unregistered. You didn’t exist. You were off their records, a ghost in the system. Because your name wasn’t on the lists, you didn’t have to show up for the monthly bloodletting, where human pets in crisp white coats stuck a tube in your vein and siphoned your blood into clear bags that were placed into coolers and taken to the Masters. Miss a couple lettings and the guards came for you, forcing you to pony up the late blood, even if it left you empty as a limp sack. The vamps got their blood, one way or another.

Being Unregistered let you slip through the cracks. There was no leash for the bloodsuckers to yank on. And since it wasn’t exactly a crime, you’d think everyone would do it. Unfortunately, being free came with a hefty price. Registered humans got meal tickets. Unregistereds didn’t. And since the vamps controlled all the food in the city, this made getting enough to eat a real problem.

So we did what anyone in our situation would do. We begged. We stole. We scraped up food wherever we could, did anything to survive. In the Fringe, the outermost circle of the vampire city, food was scarce even if you weren’t Unregistered. The ration trucks came twice a month and were heavily guarded. I’d seen Registered citizens beaten just for getting out of line. So while it wasn’t exactly a crime to be Unregistered, if you got
caught
stealing from the bloodsuckers and you didn’t have the Prince’s cursed brand gracing your skin, you could expect no mercy whatsoever.

It was a lesson I’d learned well. Too bad these three never did.

“…eight ounces of soy, two potatoes, and a quarter loaf of bread.” The pet was still going on, and his audience had their eyes glued to the gallows now, morbidly fascinated. I slipped into the crowd, moving away from the platform. The smug voice rang out behind me, and I clenched my hands, wishing I could drive a fist through his smiling teeth. Damn pets. In some ways, they were even worse than the bloodsuckers. They’d chosen to serve the vamps, selling out their fellow humans for the safety and luxury it brought. Everyone hated them, but at the same time everyone was jealous of them, as well.

“The rules regarding Unregistered citizens are clear.” The pet was wrapping up, stretching out his words for the greatest effect. “According to clause twenty-two, line forty-six of New Covington law, any human found stealing within city limits, who does not have the mark of protection from the Prince, shall be hanged by the neck until they are dead. Do the accused have any last words?”

I heard muffled voices, the oldest thief swearing at the pet, telling him to do something anatomically impossible. I shook my head. Brave words wouldn’t help him. Nothing would now. It was fine and good to be defiant to the end, but it was better not to get caught in the first place. That was his first mistake and, ultimately, his last.
Always leave yourself an out;
that was the first rule of the Unregistereds. Do whatever you want—hate the vamps, curse the pets—but never get caught. I picked up my pace, hurrying past the edge of the crowd, and broke into a jog.

The clunk of the trapdoors releasing echoed very loudly in my ears, even over the gasp of the watching crowd. The silence that followed was almost a living thing, urging me to turn, to glance over my shoulder. Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I slipped around a corner, putting the wall between myself and the gallows so I wouldn’t be tempted to look back.

* * *

L
IFE
IN
THE
F
RINGE
is a simple thing, like the people who live here. They don’t have to work, though there are a couple “trading posts” set up around the Fringe, where people collect what they find and exchange it for other things. They don’t have to read; there are no jobs that require it, and besides, owning books is highly illegal—so why risk it? All they have to worry about is feeding themselves, keeping their clothes mended, and patching up whatever hole or box or gutted out building they call home well enough to keep the rain off them.

The secret goal of almost every Fringer is to someday make it into the Inner City, past the wall that separates the civilized world from the human trash, into the glittering city that looms over us with its great starry towers that had somehow resisted crumbling into dust. Everyone knows someone who knows someone who was taken into the city, a brilliant mind or a great beauty, someone too unique or special to be left here with us animals. There are rumors that the vampires “breed” the humans on the inside, raising the children to be their thralls, completely devoted to their masters. But since none who are Taken into the city ever come out again—except the pets and their guards, and they aren’t talking—no one knows what it’s really like.

Of course, this only feeds the stories.

“Did you hear?” Stick asked as I met him at the chain-link fence that marked the edge of our territory. Beyond the fence, across a grassy, glass-strewn lot, stood a squat old building that my gang and I called home. Lucas, the de facto leader of our gang, said it used to be a “school,” a place where kids like us gathered every day in huge numbers to learn. That was before the vamps had it gutted and burned, destroying everything on the inside, but it was still a refuge for a gang of skinny street rats. Three stories high, the brick walls were beginning to crumble, the top floor had fallen in, and the halls were filled with mold, rubble and little else. The charred halls and empty rooms were cold, damp and dark, and every year a little more of the walls fell away, but it was our place, our safe haven, and we were fiercely protective of it.