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“I don’t know my grandparents.” He was rather thinking about Ironhold, but it was true that he had never even heard about his dragon grandparents either.
“You don’t need to know them to appreciate your life, your form, your dragon magic, even if you don’t use it much. Your ability to fly. It’s who you are, the blood in your veins, and you honor it. I mean, we do, so I believe that’s how it should be done.”
“I’ll do that.”
Siniari nodded, swapped forms, then flew away. So much freedom in that one change, so much possibility. The thought of having human magic, a human body, and his dragon form at his fingertips—or claw tips—filled his heart with hope. He had to do this right, and he was going to do it.
That said, the first step was already proving hard. How was he going to be thankful to Ironhold? Celia was still alive, but he hadn’t even seen her, as she hadn’t taken part in the balls. She had been in Leah’s wedding, though, not that Fel could remember who was there, his mind blind with anger at that moment. Such stupid, foolish anger. He should have stopped that wedding and taken Leah with him. Funny how things in retrospect made so much sense, felt so clear.
A thought hit him: his love for his iron magic, his use of his metal hands, his ability to manipulate several pieces of metal at once, something that filled him with pride, joy, a sense of accomplishment. He had gotten that metal magic from the Ironhold family and it was part of who he was—at least part of who he was in his human form.
Fel closed his eyes, feeling grateful for the magic he had, and then stated again his name and his near ancestors, this time trying to put some appreciation and thankfulness in his words.
Again, silence was the only reply he got.
No, he could feel there was something about to happen, almost like a change in the air before a storm. His heart was thumping in his enormous chest when he saw a ring of fire appearing in the cave. Although it didn’t seem to lead anywhere, Fel decided to trust it, and jumped into it, truly hoping it was a dragon ring, or else he would hit his head on the wall.
He found himself not flying, but falling. He tried to flap his wings—but had none.
* * *
Naia looked at River,stunned at his openness. He sounded sincere and spoke candidly about his role in the invasion of Frostlake, where he had cast some illusions and helped convince witnesses that it had been the fae attacking them.
Ironhold hadn’t been careful. Instead, they had marched into the city and castle with their full forces, under the pretext that they were helping Frostlake fight the invaders. There had been many witnesses, but Ironhold was counting on creating fear and confusion. People generally tended to remain quiet rather than risking being deemed traitors.
Something still puzzled Naia. “Why Frostlake?”
“They had the princess, so they knew the kingdom would be theirs once they got rid of the king. It was an easy conquest.”
That was true. Still, she couldn’t quite believe he could have helped Ironhold do something so awful. “River, people died. The queen and kingdied. Couldn’t you have warned them?”
“I had a deal with King Harold. And to be honest, they would have done the same with or without me, except that they would kill many more witnesses. If anything, I saved lives.”
Did he really believe that? Or was that what he told himself?
“Really, Naia, there are other ways to create and perpetuate lies, and they are usually much worse than illusions.”
“Then why were they working with you? They must be well aware you’re their enemy. Why did they bother?”
“I can persuade people.” He looked away and shrugged. “It’s not something I like to do, but it’s what I did.”
“Was it worth it?”
He turned to her. “Being with Ironhold took me to Frostlake, where I saw you again.”
Naia rolled her eyes. “Of course. How else could you find me, having no idea where I lived…”
“I thought you had tried to kill me. I was hurt, confused. And wrong.” His voice was soft and she wanted to lean over, touch his hair, and kiss him, but she also needed to know what was happening.
“What happened yesterday?” she asked, still horrified at the image of River hurt.
“Long story.” He sighed. “As you know, I left my post to go to the Ancient City last night. Well, King Harold thought I had warned Umbraar or betrayed him somehow, which, as you know, wasn’t true.” He stared at her. “My deal with him wouldn’t have allowed me to do that. Still, he imprisoned me. That broke part of our agreement, which was actually good for me, meaning it also freed me. Plus, I was placed in a room with metal walls and metal magic, which obviously did not hold me. I escaped. For the first time, I was free to explore the castle and even enter areas where I had been forbidden before.”
There was something ominous about his tone, and Naia was sure she wasn’t going to like what he was saying.
He continued, “Deep down in the entrails of the Iron Citadel I found the king and queen, in a strange ritual. They were reviving their son, Cassius.”
That was strange. “He died?”
