The Circle

The Iron Woods didn't belong in the suburbs. It was a jagged, infected wound of nature that the developers of Oakhaven High hadn't managed to pave over. The trees were too close together, choking out the sunlight, and the creek bed always smelled of stagnation and wet metal.

Leo loved it.

It was 10:15 AM on a Tuesday. While the rest of the junior class was suffering through AP History, Leo was sliding down the muddy embankment, ruining his sneakers. He breathed in the damp air, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen just a fraction. He hated the school—the fluorescent lights, the linoleum, the crushing weight of being ordinary.

He reached the bottom of the ravine, intending to smoke a cigarette and stare at the water, but someone was already there.

Leo froze.

A girl was crouching in the mud near a cluster of ferns. She wasn't anyone Leo recognized from the hallways. She wore a vintage slip dress, the silk torn at the hem and stained with muck, and an oversized men's flannel shirt that hung off her shoulders. Her feet were bare, the toes digging into the dark earth.

She was arranging things.

Leo took a step closer, a twig snapping under his foot.

The girl didn't jump. She didn't scramble to hide whatever illicit activity she was up to. She just turned her head slowly, her neck craning at an angle that looked uncomfortable, bird-like.

"You're loud," she said. Her voice was high and chiming, like wind through broken glass.

"Sorry," Leo muttered. He looked down at what she was doing.

It was a circle. A perfect ring of broken beer bottle shards, glittering green and brown in the dappled light. Inside the ring, arranged in a star pattern, were three dead sparrows. Their bodies were stiff, eyes clouded over, but she had groomed their feathers so they looked like they were sleeping.

"Did you... kill those?" Leo asked, his stomach turning slightly.

"No, silly," she said, standing up. She was small, but her presence was immense. Her eyes were wide, set slightly too far apart, and unblinking. "The cars killed them. The Iron Beasts. I’m just preparing them for the journey home."

She stepped over the circle of glass and walked right up to Leo. She invaded his personal space effortlessly, tilting her head back to look him in the eye. She smelled like wet dirt, rot, and—jarringly—expensive jasmine perfume.

"I'm Iris," she said.

"Leo."

She reached out. Her hand was caked in mud, but her fingernails were painted a pristine, shimmering gold. She touched his cheek, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw.

"You smell like iron," she whispered, wrinkling her nose. "And sorrow. Heavy, dragging sorrow."

Leo should have pulled away. He should have called her a freak and walked back up the hill. But he didn't. Her touch was electric. It felt like she was reading the code of his DNA.

"I hate it here," Leo found himself admitting. He had never said it out loud before.

Iris smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was sharp, secretive. "Of course you do. You don't belong here. You're too... light." She tapped his chest. "You're a Changeling, aren't you? Left in the cradle while the human baby was taken away."

Leo’s heart hammered. It was a fantasy he’d entertained since he was six years old—the idea that his parents weren't his parents, that his real home was somewhere magical. Hearing a stranger say it felt like a key turning in a lock.

"How do you know?" he whispered.

"I'm a scout," Iris giggled, spinning away from him. "I find the lost princes. And I think I found one."

She stopped spinning and looked at him, her expression suddenly dead serious.

"The Ascension is tonight," she said. "Midnight. At the Old Water Tower. Come to me, and I’ll show you how to shed this heavy skin."

"The water tower? That place is condemned."

"Only by humans," Iris said. She winked, and for a second, the light caught her eyes in a way that made them look entirely black. "Don't be late, Prince Leo. The court hates to wait."