Meghan Chase has a secret destiny—one she could never have imagined…
Something has always felt slightly off in Meghan’s life, ever since her father disappeared before her eyes when she was six. She has never quite fit in at school… or at home.
When a dark stranger begins watching her from afar, and her prankster best friend becomes strangely protective of her, Meghan senses that everything she’s known is about to change.
But she could never have guessed the truth—that she is the daughter of a mythical faery king and is a pawn in a deadly war. Now Meghan will learn just how far she’ll go to save someone she cares about, to stop a mysterious evil no faery creature dare face… and to find love with a young prince who might rather see her dead than let her touch his icy heart.
Meghan Chase believes she is just an ordinary teenager who lives with her mom, her step-dad and her half-brother. Her dad disappeared when she was 6, and she loves to death her little brother. However, on her 16th birthday her brother start acting weird. Soon she finds out Ethan’s been replaced by a changeling, a faery offspring that has been switched with a human child.
It happens that Meghan is part fey, and her brother’s been kidnapped by faeries. Her best friend also happens to be one of them, and he takes her to Nevernever, where she seeks for Ethan.
The Iron King is the first book of a series. I read it quite quick, but had to go back and get the feeling of the book again when I started reading the sequel. Some parts were just blurry in my mind. It’s an okay story, with interesting characters and a good narrative, just not too much memorable. I could see where the author got inspiration to a lot of things in this book, and some of it felt too much for me. Meghan is a smart girl who saved the narrative for me, if she were dumb as a lot of main characters we find out there this would had been a completely disaster.
My favorite quotes on this book are bellow.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be sixteen years old.
Sweet sixteen. It has a magical ring to it. Sixteen is supposed to be the age when girls become princesses and fall in love and go to dances and proms and such. Countless stories, songs, and poems have been written about this wonderful age, when a girl finds true love and the stars shine for her and the handsome prince carries her off into the sunset.
I didn’t think it would be that way for me.
Apprehension tickled my stomach. “Will it be very dangerous?”
“Oh, extremely,” Robbie said, walking up to Ethan’s bedroom door. “That’s what makes it fun. You can die in so many interesting ways—skewered on a glass sword, dragged underwater and eaten by a kelpie, turned into a spider or a rosebush for all time—” He looked back at me. “Well, are you coming or not?”
Mortals have perfected the art of not seeing what they don’t expect to be there.
“Is this perfectly clear?”
“Yes, my lady,” Tansy whispered.
Perfectly clear, bitch-queen, I echoed in my thoughts.
“I won’t turn into a pumpkin when midnight comes, will I?”
“If you annoy the wrong people, you might.”
“Technically, I was trying to kill Puck. You just happened to be there. But yes, if I’d had the shot, I would have taken it.”
“Doesn’t look like I have a choice, does it?”
“You keep saying that,” Grimalkin observed, “but there is always a choice.”
Because science is all about proving theories and understanding the universe. Science folds everything into neat, logical, well-explained packages. The fey are magical, capricious, illogical, and unexplainable. Science cannot prove the existence of faeries, so naturally, we do not exist. That type of nonbelief is fatal to faeries.
As cities grow and technology takes over the world, belief and imagination fade away, and so do we.
“I am a cat,” Grimalkin replied, as if that explained anything.
It was like color given emotion: orange passion, vermillion lust, crimson anger, blue sorrow, a swirling, hypnotic play of sensations in my mind.
I didn’t want Grimalkin promising this woman my firstborn child without my consent.
“Ladies and felines,” he started grandly, grasping the doorknob, “welcome to Tir Na Nog. Land of endless winter and shitloads of snow.”
“Over my dead body.” Puck smiled, as if this was a friendly conversation on the street, but I felt muscles coiling under his skin.
“That was part of the plan.”
“Don’t fight him. Someone could die.”
“Duels to the death tend to end that way.”
“All the more reason to leave now.”
“He just saved our lives!”
“Technically, he was saving his own life.”
“Oh, we’re playing nice now?” Puck remained seated, looking anything but compliant. “Shall we have tea first? Brew up a nice pot of kiss-my-ass?”
“How did he die?”
Grimalkin yawned. “Perhaps he ate something that disagreed with him.”
“No one touches her,” Ash said, his voice coated with frost. “Touch her, and I’ll freeze your testicles and put them in a jar. Understand?”
“You’ll only get one shot,” I murmured. Ash smiled without humor.
“Then I’ll have to make it count.”