Page 69 of Frozen Hearts and Death Magic

“Yes,” Leah said between gritted teeth.

The woman turned to her grandson. “Venard.” Leah flinched, wondering what they were going to subject her to, but the woman said, “Release her.”

He stopped holding her. Leah hoped that didn’t mean she was about to face something worse.

The woman then had a broad smile. “I’m sure we’ll be best friends, and I’m glad you’re going to be part of our family. I want you to look out the window, girl. This is a sight you’ll never forget.”

Leah did look out, especially because it meant a break from facing the two horrible people in the carriage. What she saw surprised her.

* * *

The sun was settingwhen Fel got to the fort, darkness settling in, and it felt so appropriate. This time, the journey back to his kingdom hadn’t felt lonely and plagued with worry. There was nothing for him to worry about anymore. And yet emptiness failed to numb him, as his heart cracked like the ice on the lake. That lake from a pointless dream.

His solace was that his father and sister were alive and safe, or at least as safe as Naia could be where she was. Safe. Fel feared that this was the calm before the storm, his heart filled with an eerie worry that everything was about to fall apart, that his kingdom would be in danger.

But at least that gave him a purpose, a goal. Perhaps he was breaking down inside, but he had to stand tall and prepare for whatever threat would come their way. He got to the fort, then left his horse in the stable.

Fel hadn’t been here much in the last year. His father didn’t want Naia there, afraid that some young man would take advantage of her, and Fel didn’t want to leave her behind. In retrospect, he should have questioned his father more, insisted that Naia come. Keeping her isolated hadn’t worked out that well, had it?

He rushed to the armory, where they now had carpenters working alongside smiths. A gigantic wooden catapult stood outside, by the courtyard where their soldiers trained. A small courtyard, as they had few soldiers, and he hoped they didn’t have to change that.

Silvan, their weapons master, greeted him with a smile. He was about his father’s age and had been working with them for more than twenty years now.

“Isofel! You grace us with your visit.”

Fel shook his head and pointed to the weapon. “All wood?”

“Yes. A piece of art, isn’t it?”

Maybe. No. Something was wrong. He could feel magic in that catapult calling to him. And there was only one kind of magic that could do that. He felt what was calling him, then pulled them out of the wooden structure: five large iron nails. He made them fly toward Silvan, stopping them when they were a finger away from his face. The catapult collapsed.

Silvan didn’t dare step back, but his face was pale as he looked at Fel. “Your grace, it was just a few nails.”

Fel let the nails drop to the ground. “I was making a point. You use that against an ironbringer, they’ll use it against you.”

“But what if we fight the fae?”

“We do have iron weapons as well, don’t we? But we need to make sure we can face Ironhold, if anything happens.”

“Would they send their royalty here?”

“We can’t bet that they won’t.”

“Hey, there,” someone said behind Fel. “One of these days you’ll kill someone by accident.”

He turned and saw Ariel, or rather, Arry, their general’s son, and the only person Fel considered a friend.

Fel smiled then shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll kill someone on purpose.” He kept thinking about that Ironhold prince taking Leah’s arm, and his imagination made it all end in blood and violence. And he wished he could forget that.

“So now Ironhold is the enemy?” his friend asked.

“Haven’t they always been?”

Arry nodded, then bit his lip. “Where’s Naia?”

Poor guy. His eyes always sparkled when he mentioned her. Could he have been an appropriate match for her? Could things have been different if she had come here more often?

“Home,” Fel lied.

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