Page 26 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

When their father got back from his walk outside, he was tense, fidgety, and touched his wedding rings often, reminding Naia of the way he’d been in the carriage. Could it be that the gathering brought him some painful memories?

Naia didn’t want to bother him, didn’t want to disobey him, but perhaps this was an opportunity to learn something. “Did you meet her at a gathering?”

“Yes.” His voice was dry. “Wait, who?”

“Who? Mother, of course.”

He frowned. “She’s never been to a gathering.”

“Then why—”

“Let’s go.” Her father got up. “We’ve stayed long enough to be polite.”

Naia didn’t mind leaving early. In fact, she was relieved to get out of that tortuous place, but his behavior was odd. Regardless, she stood up and followed him, and so did Fel, who was still in good spirits despite not being able to talk or dance with Leah, and Naia knew he wanted to. Her brother had been discreet and avoided looking at the Frostlake princess, but the yearning was still clear in his eyes.

They climbed two sets of stairs to the guest wing. A servant approached her father, but he waved her away, grumpy and annoyed. Naia had a room for herself, beside Fel’s, and was relieved to enter it and finally be alone with her thoughts and worries. The room could be barred from the inside, with an iron latch, but also a wooden locking bar. Her father had requested that their rooms could be locked from the inside with something other than iron. Perhaps it was an exaggeration, but Naia wouldn’t feel safe if her door was locked in a way that even she could open easily. Sure, there were guards in the hall, and she doubted any ironbringer would try anything, but still… After the episode with the watersnake, being careful couldn’t hurt.

The room was humongous, with a four-poster bed covered with ornate engravings. It also had a fireplace, but it hadn’t been lit, as the temperature was comfortable in the castle thanks to the dome surrounding the city. This was so much more sophisticated than her room at home. Naia was starting to realize that there was a huge difference between her family and the other royals. She knew she was supposed to ignore them, that their opinion didn’t matter, but it didn’t feel good to be excluded. Then there were Fel’s words: we’ve only heard one side.

What if her father was the horrible person there? But it didn’t make sense. As a deathbringer, he was extremely powerful, and yet, he never used his magic, never threatened anyone. He cared deeply for his subjects. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t offended the other families somehow. Or maybe it was still because of her mother, because of that unwanted marriage. And it felt horrible knowing that these royal families wished she and Fel didn’t exist. Well, that made them horrible and should quench the flames of her doubts about her father.

Naia wanted to lie down and rest, except that first she had to get rid of that purple froufrou she was wearing. She reached out to open the back of her dress, but it was harder than she’d predicted, as the back didn’t have buttons, but rather hooks and eyes, quite tight. Going out in the hall and asking for a servant would be the peak of humiliation, considering her father had dismissed them. Well, she could try to use her ironbringing. It would be tedious, but maybe she should look at it as an opportunity to exercise her magic. Fel had gotten amazing after doing tons and tons of tedious, dull tasks; she could do the same—except that it would be incredibly boring.

Unless Naia used her fire, which burned other things, but not her. Perhaps she should incinerate that purple thing. Right. Then she’d probably torch the castle with it, and she was pretty sure that wouldn’t be a good act of diplomacy.

Where was her mind going? She took a deep breath and sat on the bed. What she most wanted was to find out whether she’d truly seen River. She could still recall the taste of his lips, even after a year. But it was nonsense. If he was alive, he’d obviously forgotten their kiss. And even if he hadn’t forgotten it, what could happen?

Naia shook her head and lit a flame on the palm of her hand, then moved it to the other palm. She loved the ticklish sensation of the fire, the buzz from the power flowing through her.

“River, where are you? Are you alive?” she whispered, then closed her hand and quenched her little flame. The candle went out as well, by coincidence, or perhaps also affected by her magic, leaving only silvery moonlight illuminating the room.

Then there was an odd smell of rain, not any rain, it was an exhilarating, specific smell… She got up, meaning to walk to the window, when something caught her eye beside the fireplace, a shadow that shouldn’t be there. Naia lit a flame in her hand again—and her heart jumped.

Someone stood by the fireplace. Not anyone—River.

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