The Iron Thorn - Caitlin Kittredge [131]
“Tremaine said that no magic in the Thorn Land could break the curse,” I said. Which made me wonder what sort of thing had set it in the first place. I decided it was better not to think about. “They use stones and enchantments, but they don’t have this.” I set the helmet on the worktable with a crash. “They don’t live in the Iron Land. They don’t have our machines. Tremaine said my Weird could break the curse. My Weird.”
“Aoife,” Dean started, “what are you—”
“Machines,” I said as my idea took form, gained speed. Machines were my only true affinity, for as long as I could remember. The thing the Folk didn’t have, the thing only the Iron Land, my world, did. “Tremaine said nothing in Thorn could break the curse. What does Thorn not have?”
“Sense of humor?” Dean said.
“Engines,” I whispered. “It doesn’t have a power like the Engines.”
Of course, I could be wrong. Machines could have nothing to do with breaking the curse. But it was all I had, all I’d ever had. Just my mind and clever hands and an instinct for what made things work.
If I could repair a chronometer, I might be able to break a curse the same way.
“Aoife, I don’t like this,” Dean said. “What if it doesn’t work?”
I pulled the brass bell from my pocket and held it in my palm for a moment, feeling my pulse beat against it. If it didn’t work, I wouldn’t have any more mundane concerns like staying alive. That was certain. “Don’t worry,” I lied to Dean. “I know what I’m doing.”
When the world settled around me again, Tremaine was standing before me. We were in the same spot near the lily field, in the same night I’d left, or a different one. I was learning time held little meaning in the Thorn Land.
I didn’t wait for Tremaine’s invitation this time, merely grabbed hold of his cool, papery hand and stepped through the hexenring.
“Look at you, so spirited.” Tremaine straightened his collar and sleeves. “I take that to mean you have good news for me.”
“I’ve found your cursebreaker,” I lied, but I knew by now I could do it convincingly enough. Tremaine nodded encouragement.
“No need to build to it. Spit out your plan, child.”
My hands were trembling so violently I thought that I might break my fingers, but I curled up my fists and looked Tremaine in his fathomless, soulless eyes. “Before that, I need something from you. Right this moment.”
Tremaine’s lips twitched in irritation. “Very well. Say it.”
I exhaled, my breath steaming in the chill air. All at once, I didn’t want to know. But I pressed on. “Tell me about my brother.”
Tremaine looked away from me, sighing. “All the secrets of the Folk at your fingertips and you’re still harping about that boy.”
“Either you hold up your end of the bargain, or I’m going to walk,” I said. “And your queen will sleep forever, until the world rots away around her.” I folded my arms. “My brother. Where is he?”
“I told you, I find this new attitude of yours distasteful,” Tremaine said. “But the Folk keep their bargains.” He folded his arms, bracers clanking dully like coffin lids. “Your brother is dead, Aoife.”
My heart stopped. “No …” The word slid out past the wire that strung itself around my throat. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak except to blurt out, “That’s a lie.”
“He fell to the Proctors in Arkham Village,” Tremaine said, placing a hand on the back of my neck. “I sent him back, as I sent you, so that he might help me release my queen and the Summer Queen by consulting your father’s library. He was not as adept at evasion as you appear to be.”
“He can’t be.” I felt as if everything inside of me had frozen. Conrad. Dead. I thought of the last time I’d seen him. I’d never imagined it would truly be the end. “He can’t …,” I tried again. “Bethina said shadows took him away.…”
“The chambermaid? The blithering girl who can’t see the end of her own nose, who fears the sight of us so much that she makes up stories about ghosts in moonlight? You trust her word above mine?”
“Tell