AllFreeNovel
Share Us
While the Iron Citadel looked tall, it was also deep, very deep. The explanation for that depth was that it connected to a reserve of magnetite, which fed the castle’s metal magic. If there had ever been an impenetrable fortress against the fae, it was this. His thoughts moved to his sister, gone so early, in such a foolish quest. She would have noticed that the magic had not been gone before getting even close to this castle. He’d never doubted the story that she and her friends had tried to infiltrate it, but she wouldn’t have beenthatshortsighted. It was odd to recall Ciara, gone almost twenty years before, and yet, for him, it had been just months, months that had not been enough to ease the pain of her loss. An eternity wouldn’t ease that pain.
Ironhold was going to pay. The only issue was that he didn’t want it to affect Naia.
River took a deep breath. The nausea was subsiding, perhaps replaced by his worry, his anger. Or else those feelings were grounding him, giving him strength. Maybe that awful magic had not been meant as a barrier, maybe it was just that Ironhold’s ironbringing was somehow corrupted.
As a fae, being attuned to magic was both a blessing and a curse, and to make matters worse, River was a rare case, even more aware of different types of magic than most Ancients. Of course, recently he’d been oblivious to dragon magic, but there was probably a decent explanation for that.
River stepped away from the wall and realized he could stand without help. It had been just a scare. The invisibility glamour took some more effort than usual, but he managed it—and left the room. This was his chance to explore the entrails of this heinous castle, his chance to find the missing key to defeat this dreadful kingdom.
His first instinct was to go to the literal depths of this building, but he was also curious about the king, about what had brought him back here. River knew that one of the princes had been killed, had felt the stench of death when trying to save Isofel’s girl. Although he had no idea how she had escaped, he knew she was gone, last seen with Isofel.
The night River had saved her, he’d been magically tracking her, ready to sense any danger—as if there hadn’t been enough things for him to worry about. It had been the cost to keep Naia’s brother safe, the cost of having his word that he would announce he was dead.
What bothered River was how callous or at least unconcerned Ironhold was about Cassius’ death. Unless it had been his impression and the prince was in fact alive. It still had been an attack within Ironhold’s walls, and yet nothing in King Harold’s demeanor suggested a concerned or affronted father.
River, still invisible, went to their dining room, where some of the family sometimes had meals together. The king and queen hadn’t been there in weeks, as they’d been traveling across the land, visiting their “allies.” He sat on the chairs one by one to try to sense any residual magic, any residual energy. There wasn’t much that he could identify, until he took Lady Celia’s seat. There was anger there, or rather, fury, and then the memory reached him.
“Didn’t you say necromancers were harmless?” she asked someone.
“We thought so. But we’ll find her.”
“How?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion. “If we keep it a secret, if we can’t have a prize for her head, if not even our guards can know we’re looking for this girl, how are we ever going to find her?”
“Everyone needs to believe she’s still with us, still married to Venard. It will legitimize our grasp on Frostlake.”
“Who cares for a kingdom of ice, far from Fernick, far from everyone? I’d rather see that necromancer slut dead. We should never have gotten a bride that didn’t go through the trials. It’s just not the same, just not the same.”
“We’ll find her, mother.” So this was king Harold, his voice surprisingly pleasant. “She has nowhere to hide.”
“I want to see it. When she yells in pain, when she begs for mercy, I want to see it. Make her suffer.” The anger in her voice was chilling.
“I’ll arrange that.”
“What about Cassius? When can I see him?” Sadness now laced her voice.
“Soon. He’s recovering.”
“I have a right to see him. He’ll recover much more quickly if he hears my voice.”
“Soon. Sometimes waiting is worthwhile, and this is one of those times.”
The woman’s anger subsided, and so did River’s grasp on the memory. This was fresh, from that morning. It meant that they hadn’t told anyone that Princess Leandra had escaped and were probably using an impersonator to fool Frostlake. It also meant Cassius was alive, not dead, but there had to be something happening if they were not letting his grandmother see him. He couldn’t be seriously ill or hurt, or his father would be more concerned. What was it?
* * *
Perhaps now Naiawas going to finally find out what Ironhold was up to, after begging River for so long to tell her. She couldn’t think about him now, or the annoyance would show on her face.
Four circles appeared in the mirror, through which she saw the kings of Ironhold, Greenstone, and Wolfmark, and an old man in military garb, wearing Ironhold’s colors. That had to be someone speaking for Frostlake.
“Greetings, Umbraar,” King Harold, from Ironhold, said. “Where’s your king?”
“He’s fallen ill—like my brother.” Naia again felt something in her throat. If she had somehow acquired the inability to lie from River, she would be quite upset, and in deep trouble. No, this had to be nothing.
King Harold nodded. “And you tried to contact us?”
He probably wanted witnesses for their conversation. Naia was going to continue with her stupid lie. “I did. Something terrible has happened here. A fae attack.”
The flicker of surprise in the Ironhold king’s eyes was not subtle. “Fae? Like in Frostlake?”
