The Iron King by Julie Kagawa

the mood for celebrating.
    With the utmost care, Robbie poured the champagne into the cup and walked back, being careful not to spill a single drop.
    “Here,” he said, giving it to me. The cup sparkled in his hand. “Drink this. Where do you keep the towels?”
    I took it suspiciously. “In the bathroom. Just don’t use Mom’s good white ones.” As Rob walked off, I peered into the tiny cup. There was barely enough for a swallow. It didn’t look like champagne to me. I was expecting something fizzy white or pink, sparkling in the glass. The liquid in the cupwas a deep, dark red, the color of blood. A fine mist writhed and danced on the surface.
    “What is this?”
    Robbie, returning from the bathroom with a white towel, rolled his eyes. “Do you have to question everything? It will help you forget the pain. Just drink it already.”
    I sniffed experimentally, expecting hints of roses or berries or some type of sweet scent mixed in with the alcohol.
    It smelled of nothing. Nothing at all.
    Oh, well. I raised the glass in a silent toast. “Happy birthday to me.”
    The wine filled my mouth, flooding my senses. It tasted of nothing, and everything. It tasted of twilight and mist, moonlight and frost, emptiness and longing. The room swayed, and I fell back against the couch, it was so strong. Reality blurred at the edges, wrapping me in a fuzzy haze. I felt sick and sleepy all at once.
    By the time my senses cleared, Robbie was tying a bandage around my leg. I didn’t remember him cleaning or dressing the wound. I felt numb and dazed, like a blanket had dropped over my thoughts, making it hard to concentrate.
    “There,” Robbie said, straightening up. “That’s done. At least your leg won’t fall off.” His eyes swept up to mine, anxious and assessing. “How’re you feeling, princess?”
    “Un,” I said intelligently, and tried to sweep the cobwebs from my brain. There was something I wasn’t remembering, something important. Why was Robbie binding my leg? Had I hurt myself somehow?
    I bolted upright.
    “Ethan bit me!” I exclaimed, indignant and furious all over again. I turned on Robbie. “And you…you said that wasn’t Ethan at all! What were you talking about? What’s going on?”
    “Relax, princess.” Robbie tossed the bloody towel onto the floor and plopped onto a footstool. He sighed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. My fault, I suppose. I shouldn’t have left you alone today.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You weren’t supposed to see this, any of this,” Robbie went on, to my utter confusion. He seemed to be talking more to himself than me. “Your Sight has always been strong, that was a given. Still, I didn’t expect them to go after your family, too. This changes things.”
    “Rob, if you don’t tell me what’s going on—”
    Robbie looked at me. His eyes gleamed, impish and feral. “Tell you? Are you sure?” His voice went soft and dangerous, and goose bumps crawled up my arms. “Once you start seeing things, you won’t be able to stop. People have gone mad with too much knowledge.” He sighed, and the menace dropped from his eyes. “I don’t want that to happen to you, princess. It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. I can make you forget all of this.”
    “Forget?”
    He nodded and held up the wine bottle. “This is mistwine. You just had a swallow. A cup will make everything go back to normal.” He balanced the bottle on two fingers, watching it sway back and forth. “One cup, and you’ll be normal again. Your brother’s behavior will not seem strange, and you won’t remember anything weird or scary. You know what they say—ignorance is bliss, right?”
    Despite my uneasiness, I felt a slow flame of anger burning my chest. “So, you want me to drink that…that stuff, and just forget about Ethan. Just forget about my only brother. That’s what you’re saying.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Well, when you put it like that…”
    The