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He already had black hair and no horns, and pointed a finger at her. “I’ll glamour you.”
“And if your magic slips, I’ll look ridiculous.”
Even as she said that, her dress was changing into a dark green velvet dress, with black embroidery in its sleeves, and a high neck. It wasn’t fancy or flashy, but simple and elegant.
River looked at her with his fake green eyes. “If my magic fails, we might have bigger problems. That way we can go right away.” He lifted a hand—gloved, at least. “I know what you’re going to say: that I don’t really look like your brother. I don’t think they will notice it.”
Probably not, even if River still looked very much like himself, despite the long, straight black hair, brown skin, and bright green eyes. Plus he was too pretty, not that Fel was ugly. It was odd to even try to describe it. But there was a bigger problem.
“Won’t they find it strange if we show up like that? Without carriages? Right after getting the message from the mirror?”
“Your excuse will be that you’re a deathbringer. You’ll need to say it. Remember that the glamour still doesn’t let me lie. I’m the same truthful River.”
Naia rolled her eyes. “So open and honest.”
She had meant it as a joke, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he looked down, before reaching out his hand to hers.
It felt so sudden. So many things could go wrong.
River raised his eyebrows. “Changed your mind?”
“What’s the plan?” She didn’t expect him to know much more than she did. It was more like voicing her thought aloud.
He tilted his head. “We observe.”
“Everyone will be observing, won’t they? Afraid of making the first move.”
“It seems that Wolfmark has already made the first move.” River put a gloved hand on his chin. “The question is whether Ironhold knows it.”
Who would be foolish enough to tell them? Out of the nine other kings, eight in fact, considering Frostlake had already been taken, there could be one bold and stupid enough thinking this would grant them favors. “They probably know. They might have spies.” Naia frowned. “This could be a trap.”
River shrugged. “Not necessarily. We don’t know if they are openly conspiring against Ironhold. I… don’t know. But it’s better to go and find out, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” In reality, Naia was shocked that he wasn’t admonishing her that going to this meeting could be dangerous, wasn’t even warning her. But then, he had told her he wanted to change, and he knew as well as she did that they would need to act if they wanted to defy Ironhold and defeat Cynon. Telling her that it was dangerous would be a waste of time.
Naia took his hand—and soon found herself in a dark place, seeing bright circles in the distance. Most of them looked as if they were made from a brilliant substance, like gold stars, while a few of them, far away, looked more like fire. Then, far away, she saw an upright circle that was black, like a door leading into a tunnel with dark smoke. No, a pit, as if a person would fall into it if they got too close.
She looked away as she felt goosebumps, but pointed at it with her free hand. “What’s that?”
“What?”
“The black one.”
“I don’t know all the circles, Naia.”
He didn’t sound worried or impressed. Perhaps circles like these were common. She’d need to ask him all about it, ask and learn and eventually be able to move in the hollow by herself.
They walked to a circle close to them, with faded light, and then it was as if that environment of the hollow was peeled back to reveal the entrance to a majestic castle made of grey granite, bordering a plateau. Its entrance had a golden door ten times her height. It was iron, she felt its force and weight, even if the finish was plated in gold. Many lamps and torches illuminated the grounds. Four guards came at them at once, pointing their swords.
“State your purpose.”
“We’re coming from Umbraar. To the impromptu gathering,” River said.
The man widened his eyes. “How did you…”
“Deathbringers,” someone muttered.
Naia then remembered she had to do the talking, and said, “I’m princess Irinaia Umbraar, and this is my brother Isofel.” Lying so obviously felt strange, and perhaps it was an impression, but she felt a prickle in her throat.
