Free The Hidden Princess by Katy Moran Page B

her. Had she really loved him, the Swan King? Would she forgive me? I stare at Iris. “Listen. Just say that I did kill the King, that I murdered my own father… Would that mean the bargain was broken? That the curse on my sister would just dissolve into nothing?”
    Iris nods, slowly. “In the moment of his death, your sister will be free of the curse. You could leave here and Connie would live. Think about it, Lissy. With the Swan King dead, the rest of us would be free to negotiate with the Fontevrault again.
He’s
the one keeping us down here – it’s their fear he’ll release the plague.”
    She’s right. In a twisted way, killing the Swan King really would solve everything. There will be no danger of the plague being released once he’s dead. It’s just that I can’t forget the change in him when I said,
Honour her memory with love
. As if, finally, he might be giving up on the idea of revenge. It would solve everything, but I’d be a murderer. Killing is always wrong, isn’t it?
Taking a life
.
    I lean over the skeleton, searching for what’s left of Miles’s other hand. My fingertips brush over damp bone and I can’t stop shivering, but now I’m touching something else – cold, smooth and hard. “It’s some kind of metal tube.” I sit back on my heels, lifting it up. All I can hear is the hollow clatter of tiny radial bones against the raw bedrock and Iris’s rapid, shallow breathing. It’s a rifle. I’m touching the barrel of a gun, and it’s heavy.
    “It’s a mortal weapon, isn’t it?” Iris whispers, her voice harsh – so desperate. “Can you use it, Lissy?”
    If Miles had a gun, he must also have come with ammunition. The gun’s too heavy for me to hold one-handed. I blow the globe of light away from my fingertips so that it hovers unaided in the air above his bones and take the rifle in both hands, running my fingers down the stained and rusted barrel till I find the safety catch beneath. I squeeze it, holding my breath. It doesn’t move, rusted solid.
    “It’s ruined.” And the truth is, I’m relieved. Because in that tiny second before Iris arrived in the White Hall, I’d got through to my father. I know I had. I am so sure of it. I could see the change in his eyes when I spoke of Larkspur’s mother.
Don’t honour her memory with blood. Honour it with love
.
    “There must be something you can do with it,” Iris hisses, her voice so brittle and tense I can tell she hasn’t got long. We can’t stay much longer.
    I sit back on my heels. “I’m sorry, Iris – but to actually kill one of the Hidden the iron has to enter your bloodstream, doesn’t it? This is a rifle, not a blade. It’s completely ruined – I can’t fire it, even if I could find any bullets.”
    Iris lets out a sigh. “I’m afraid, Lissy. So afraid.”
    Me too. “We should get back to the White Hall. The last thing we need is for him to suspect us of treason. We’ve been gone long enough. You know how he is – he always notices everything.”
    I look up, away from the mortal remains of Miles – I’ve been squatting in the same position for too long, and I reach back to lean on one hand. My palm rests against cold metal, and I freeze.
Iron. More iron
. Miles wasn’t just carrying his rifle but something else, too. I shift my weight and my fingers slowly close around the small, blunt-ended iron shape lying amongst the damp shingle. It’s mine now. Turning, I uncurl my fingers and show Iris the knife, the pitted, corroded blade – just a dull glimmer in my silver light.
    “I’m afraid to use it, Iris. It’s wrong. Killing is wrong, no matter what he’s done – what he
wants
to do. What he’s guilty of.”
    “I’m afraid, too.” Iris looks up, fixing her gaze on me. “But I’m more afraid about that little mortal girl in the waters of the Gateway. What if he uses her to get out, and the Fontevrault come searching for the Hidden, hunting the Swan King? They’re mortal – the iron