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River froze. That song was similar to one of the Ancient’s songs about a sweet child, a sweet child healing the wounds of a parent who had lost a loved one. It was often the case when mothers died in childbirth. This song celebrated joy and life, it was a way to deal with the pain.
His father had never sung this song to him. Nobody had, in fact, other than friends playing this lullaby as some sort of joke. A couple times, the servants had sung the song around him, but it had never been for him, with the feeling it required.
A lullaby many Ancients heard even if both parents were alive, a lullaby celebrating the mere existence of a child. Not River’s. His existence had never been celebrated, other than when his father had found out about his mindmelding. And yet River had rejected the only reason his father had ever loved him for. A silly lullaby. Something so simple, so common, except for those who had never had it sung to them. And then what did it matter now? All River had done was make absolutely sure that his father would never have the opportunity to sing anything to him.
“River,” Naia whispered in his ear.
Lady Celia stopped singing and looked around. “Hello? Did you come to take him? It’s not his turn yet, not his turn. Not my sweet grandson.”
Could it be that he was waiting for Cynon? That the vessel would be like that while waiting? Unless… River tried to think. Perhaps… Perhaps Cassius was just the sacrifice. But then who was the vessel? If there even was a vessel, if Cynon or whatever was real and was affecting Ironhold. As for the Ironhold crown prince, in this state, he was harmless.
River wondered if Naia would agree with him, wondered if it was worth it to simply walk away. No. This young man had done horrible things. Perhaps it wasn’t River’s place to decide who was worthy of living or dying, but he had no reason to feel bad about Cassius’ death. And then, what if the princewasthe vessel? Quite an empty vessel right now, but for how long? He held Naia’s hand tighter, hoping it would give him courage. And then there was the matter of how he was going to kill the prince. He could make Cassius kill himself, but that would mean using mindmelding in its most horrific form—all the while keeping a glamour on him and Naia.
The truth was that River was no murderer, and yet perhaps it was too late to realize it now, since he’d promised to get rid of the Ironhold prince. And then what got him was how he’d killed his father. How? He couldn’t even kill this horrific prince. It made… no sense. Not that he wanted to go back to that moment and figure what his thought process had been—if there even had been any thought.
As River struggled, trying to decide how to kill the prince, a dagger moved towards Cassius’ neck—and cut it right in the biggest vein. A fast, precise cut that should kill him immediately. Naia’s work.
Lady Celia let out a deafening wail, and River got to the hollow again, then to that abandoned deposit.
He stared at Naia. “I’m sorry. I should have—”
“It was easier for me.” Her voice was low, and her expression was serious, thoughtful. “Hopefully it will help.”
So she didn’t think Cassius had been the vessel either. If he wasn’t, then had all their conclusions been wrong? Or just some of them?
Then a thought hit him like a block of ice, freezing him all over. How could he not have seen it? Naia stared at him, eyes wide, so beautiful, as always, and the sight brought him pain, the horrible pain of losing her. River had to find a way to save her, a way to protect her, against impossible odds.
* * *
Naia couldn’t believeshe’d killed someone—and in cold blood. Cassius probably deserved even worse than that, perhaps deserved to live for many years and suffer, and yet killing felt horrible.
Now she stood in this strange deposit in the Iron Citadel, wondering where to go from here, wondering what to do now, when River sucked in a breath and stared at her in horror.
“River?”
“I…” He frowned. “Part of me… still…” He closed his eyes, then exhaled, looked at her, and said, “I know what to do.” His tone had become confident all of a sudden.
Naia should be relieved, but the memory of the last time he’d been that confident made her tense. “What?”
He smirked. “We’ll go down to the belly of this monster. They have earth from Mount Prime there.”
“Mount Prime…” It was connected to the Ancient City. “Does it have Ancient magic?”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “You’ll see.”
Naia wasn’t sure what he was about to do. Perhaps he had found a solution for his people? For a second, she wished she could slip away on her own and run far from this dreadful castle, far from River.
Far from River? Her own mind was telling her strange things, and then there was the memory of Cassius’s blood, now mixing with King Spring’s blood in her mind. Could she even be upset that River was a cold-blooded murderer, when she was also one?
They slipped briefly into the hollow, then reappeared in a room that felt gigantic, even if she could not see much. There was so much iron that its smell overwhelmed her senses. Iron on the walls, floor, even the high ceiling. It was strange that she could almostseethe place with her metal magic. Perhaps she should light a flame in her hand to illuminate that room, but somehow it didn’t feel safe or wise.
His hand still held hers, so she pulled him closer and whispered, “What are you planning?”
“We’re getting there.” He spoke clearly, in a normal voice, unafraid of being overheard.
“I don’t like this,” she said.
“I know.”
