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“No. I truly don’t know what to think, but I don’t want to see my brother used for a sinister scheme either. He wouldn’t want that. And then, I don’t know who was the person ordering this bath, I don’t know who you’ll meet in that room. If Cynon is an old, extremely powerful being, he won’t be fooled so easily. This could be a test and he could be prepared. Be careful.”
True. But then… “When the price for inaction is so high, why not be reckless?”
“Because you can still temper his power, you can still make sure the Ancients don’t fall into an abyss.”
“I can also absorb his magic. Didn’t you just say I was in a privileged position and should do something?”
“Do something if you can, don’t do it if you think you might fail.” Anelise then pulled her hand suddenly, as if the water had burned her.
That worried Naia. “What happened?”
“Iron magic. Got in the water.” She glanced at the guards, who weren’t even looking in their direction, then said, “Good luck. And count on me—whatever happens.” Sadness tainted her voice. Whatever happened, would there be a way to get River back? If it was really a matter of killing him, would Naia be able to follow through? She was alone in her decision, alone holding the responsibility of trying to find an answer.
Before leaving, Anelise turned. “Love is powerful too. Just so you know.”
Love. Could love undo the mess under which she was buried? Or was it the excuse she’d give to forfeit her duty?
27
Fire
After Naia dried herself, one of the fae guards gave her a dress. It was light purple, with embroidery so much finer and more delicate than anything she had ever seen or even imagined. True that she hadn’t seen much finery in her life, but none of the royalty dresses in the gathering could even come close to this. It was no wonder that the Ancients had traded with humans before it had all gone sour.
Naia put it on slowly, with no help from the guards, who could not touch her because of her ironbringing. The dress was laced in the front, and not complicated, which was helpful, but even then she struggled, as her fingers were trembling.
The part that was making her most worried was realizing that River—or Cynon—was taking her proposal seriously, making sure she had this bath with scented herbs and all. Unless he thought she usually stank, but then he wouldn’t agree with this, would he? Troublesome thoughts. Who was in control of River? If it was Cynon, he could think whatever he wanted. If it was River… Perhaps he just wanted to do this right or maybe give her time to think. Time. It was only increasing her worry and mortification, and she doubted she would be able to recreate their first kiss in that state.
Had desperation turned her mad? And then, would she be able to look into his eyes and tell him she had changed her mind? Perhaps she would need to do that, but then that would mean no kiss, no exchange of magic, and her plans would all go to waste. As if she even had any plan. No, she was sure that if she had access to his magic, she would be able to do something.
“Are you ready?” one of the guards asked.
“Yes.” A good thing she could still lie, even if it prickled a little, even if her voice was shaky.
“Follow us, then.”
Naia was startled. Somehow she had thought she would need to wait, that perhaps she would have more time. Crazy thought, considering how long she’d spent in that bath. She followed the two fae to a large bronze door. At least she would have easy access to a weapon if it came to it.
The guards opened it to reveal a room immersed in darkness, except for the light of about fifty candles, spread all over the place, in nooks on the marble floor. There was no bed, only a mattress on the floor as well, and a table with two chairs by a corner. River was sitting there.
Naia felt the door closing behind her and the fae leaving. She was alone with River. Alone with Cynon’s vessel—and in a room with a lot of metal and fire. What was she going to do?
Her stomach was about to somersault, and yet she noticed more metal in the room; swords and shields hanging on a wall. A thin silver tray with some fruit on it lay on the table. Who would agree to be alone with an ironbringer in a place like this? The answer was obvious: someone who didn’t think she was a threat.
Naia sat across from him, wondering if River was even there, if he had a plan, or if this was truly a suicidal idea. If dying was what he really wanted, if it was the only solution, she’d have no choice. Three candles were burning on the table, between them, while he looked down, resting his head on his hand. Was he exposing his neck for her?
“River?” She had to look into his eyes, had to find a clue, an idea.
His eyes met hers, so beautiful reflecting the flames in their own fiery color. He was beautiful, dressed all in black with a loose shirt that seemed to have some of that same fine embroidery.
He took a knife and fiddled with it. “So you truly want to amplify my magic?”
“Aren’t we allies?”
He chuckled and shook his head, then raised an eyebrow. “You know what that entails, I assume?”
“You talk of it as if it were something dreadful.”
He smiled. “Undress, then.”
