The Lost Prince
Authors: Julie Kagawa
Don’t look at Them. Never let Them know you can see Them.
That is Ethan Chase’s unbreakable rule. Until the fey he avoids at all costs—including his reputation—begin to disappear, and Ethan is attacked. Now he must change the rules to protect his family. To save a girl he never thought he’d dare to fall for.
Ethan thought he had protected himself from his older sister’s world—the land of Faery. His previous time in the Iron Realm left him with nothing but fear and disgust for the world Meghan Chase has made her home, a land of myth and talking cats, of magic and seductive enemies. But when destiny comes for Ethan, there is no escape from a danger long, long forgotten.
My name is Ethan Chase. And I may not live to see my eighteenth birthday.
PRAISE FOR
NEW YORK TIMES
BESTSELLING AUTHOR JULIE KAGAWA
“This is a true quest story…one that anyone looking for great action and inventive worldbuilding should be sure to check out.”
—
RT Book Reviews
on
The Iron Knight
“Kagawa pulls her readers into a unique world of make-believe with her fantastic storytelling, and ultimately leaves them wanting more by the end of each book.”
—
Times Record News
on
The Iron Knight
“Fans of Melissa Marr—and of Kagawa—will enjoy the ride, with Meghan’s increased agency and growing power showing the series’ maturity. Finally more than just a love triangle.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
on
The Iron Queen
“A full five stars to Julie Kagawa’s
The Iron Daughter.
If you love action, romance and watching how characters mature through heart-wrenching trials, you will love this story as much as I do.”
—
Mundie Moms
blog
“
The Iron King
surpasses the greater majority of dark fantasies, leaving a lot for readers to look forward to.… The romance is well done and adds to the mood of fantasy.”
—
TeenReads.com
“Meghan is a likeable heroine and her quest is fraught with danger and adventure.… Expect it to be popular with teens who liked Melissa Marr’s
Wicked Lovely.
”
—
School Library Journal
on
The Iron King
“Kagawa has done the seemingly impossible and written a vampire book…that feels fresh in an otherwise crowded genre. Mix[ing] paranormal and dystopian tropes to good effect, creating a world that will appeal across audiences.”
—
Kirkus Reviews
on
The Immortal Rules
“Kagawa wraps excellent writing and skillful plotting around a well-developed concept and engaging characters, resulting in a fresh and imaginative thrill-ride that deserves a wide audience.”
—
Publishers Weekly,
starred review, on
The Immortal Rules
Books by Julie Kagawa
from Harlequin TEEN
The Iron Fey series
(in reading order)
The Iron King
Winter’s Passage
(ebook)*
The Iron Daughter
The Iron Queen
Summer’s Crossing
(ebook)*
The Iron Knight
Iron’s Prophecy
(ebook)*
*Also available in print in
The Iron Legends
anthology
The Iron Fey—Call of the Forgotten series
The Lost Prince
and coming in 2013
The Traitor Son
Blood of Eden series
The Immortal Rules
and coming in 2013
The Eternity Cure
To Guro Ron, and all the “badges of courage” I received in class.
Contents
Part I
Chapter One
New Kid
My name is Ethan Chase.
And I doubt I’ll live to see my eighteenth birthday.
That’s not me being dramatic; it just is. I just wish I hadn’t pulled so many people into this mess. They shouldn’t have to suffer because of me. Especially…her. God, if I could take back anything in my life, I would never have shown her my world, the hidden world all around us. I
knew
better than to let her in. Once you see Them, they’ll never leave you alone. They’ll never let you go. Maybe if I’d been strong, she wouldn’t be here with me as our seconds tick away, waiting to die.
It all started the day I transferred to a new school. Again.
* * *
The alarm clock went off at 6:00 a.m., but I had been awake for an hour, getting ready for another day in my weird, screwed-up life. I wish I was one of those guys who roll out of bed, throw on a shirt and are ready to go, but sadly, my life isn’t that normal. For instance, today I’d filled the side pockets of my backpack with dried Saint-John’s-wort and stuffed a canister of salt in with my pens and notebook. I’d also driven three nails into the heels of the new boots Mom had bought me for the semester. I wore an iron cross on a chain beneath my shirt, and just last summer I’d gotten my ears pierced with metal studs. Originally, I’d gotten a lip ring and an eyebrow bar, too, but Dad had thrown a roof-shaking fit when I came home like that, and the studs were the only things I’d been allowed to keep.
Sighing, I spared a quick glance at myself in the mirror, making sure I looked as unapproachable as possible. Sometimes, I catch Mom looking at me sadly, as if she wonders where her little boy went. I used to have curly brown hair like Dad, until I took a pair of scissors and hacked it into jagged, uneven spikes. I used to have bright blue eyes like Mom and, apparently, like my sister. But over the years, my eyes have become darker, changing to a smoky-blue-gray—from constant glaring, Dad jokes. I never used to sleep with a knife under my mattress, salt around my windows, and a horseshoe over my door. I never used to be “brooding” and “hostile” and “impossible.” I used to smile more, and laugh. I rarely do any of that now.
I know Mom worries about me. Dad says it’s normal teenage rebellion, that I’m going through a “phase,” and that I’ll grow out of it. Sorry, Dad. But my life is far from normal. And I’m dealing with it the only way I know how.
“Ethan?” Mom’s voice drifted into the room from beyond the door, soft and hesitant. “It’s past six. Are you up?”
“I’m up.” I grabbed my backpack and swung it over my white shirt, which was inside out, the tag poking up from the collar. Another small quirk my parents have gotten used to. “I’ll be right out.”
Grabbing my keys, I left my room with that familiar sense of resignation and dread stealing over me.
Okay, then. Let’s get this day over with.
I have a weird family.
You’d never know it by looking at us. We seem perfectly normal; a nice American family living in a nice suburban neighborhood, with nice clean streets and nice neighbors on either side. Ten years ago we lived in the swamps, raising pigs. Ten years ago we were poor, backwater folk, and we were happy. That was before we moved into the city, before we joined civilization again. My dad didn’t like it at first; he’d spent his whole life as a farmer. It was hard for him to adjust, but he did, eventually. Mom finally convinced him that we needed to be closer to people, that
I
needed to be closer to people, that the constant isolation was bad for me. That was what she told Dad, of course, but I knew the real reason. She was afraid. She was afraid of Them, that They would take me away again, that I would be kidnapped by faeries and taken into the Nevernever.
Yeah, I told you, my family is weird. And that’s not even the worst of it.
Somewhere out there, I have a sister. A half sister I haven’t seen in years, and not because she’s busy or married or across the ocean in some other country.
No, it’s because she’s a queen. A faery queen, one of Them, and she can’t ever come home.
Tell me
that’s
not messed up.
Of course, I can’t ever tell anyone. To normal humans, the fey world is hidden—glamoured and invisible. Most people wouldn’t see a goblin if it sauntered up and bit them on the nose. There are very few mortals cursed with the Sight, who can see faeries lurking in dark corners and under beds. Who know that the creepy feeling of being watched isn’t just their imagination, and that the noises in the cellar or the attic aren’t really the house settling.
Lucky me. I happen to be one of them.
My parents worry, of course, Mom especially. People already think I’m weird, dangerous, maybe a little crazy. Seeing faeries everywhere will do that to you. Because if the fey
know
you can see them, they tend to make your life a living hell. Last year, I was kicked out of school for setting fire to the library. What could I tell them? I was innocent because I was trying to escape a redcap motley that followed me in from the street? And that wasn’t the first time the fey had gotten me into trouble. I was the “bad kid,” the one the teachers spoke about in hushed voices, the quiet, dangerous kid whom everyone expected would end up on the evening news for some awful, shocking crime. Sometimes, it was infuriating. I didn’t really care what they thought of me, but it was hard on Mom, so I tried to be good, futile as it was.
