Page 154 of Iron Hearts and Dragon Magic

This was very different from moving into the hollow with River. It wasn’t like picking a circle in that dark place, but more like whooshing from one place to another. She saw the Iron Citadel from above, ugly and artificial, brimming with metal magic and so much metal, like a perfume so strong that it felt like it burned the nose.

“It won’t be easy to find him and he’ll be quite protected,” her father said. “Are you sure you want to try this?”

She was. For the first time in her life, she realized she could do something, she could make a difference. Instead of resenting the burden, she welcomed the responsibility, welcomed the challenge. “I’m certain.”

Of course, her heart didn’t seem to share her opinion, as it was beating like crazy, perhaps thinking it could sway her from that decision. It couldn’t. She would risk everything to save Fel. She would risk everything to save River. There were no words to explain how much she’d risk to save them both.

30

The Other One

Naia stared at that horrific, artificial monument to Ironhold’s greed, the Iron Citadel. She had never imagined one day she’d float above it.

Her father looked down at the castle, his expression thoughtful. “You said King Harold has some… other creature controlling him. What kind of magic are we dealing with?”

“Dragon magic.”

Her father was silent for a few seconds, then asked, “What does it do?”

“I’m not sure. I think he’s more powerful than most dragons and to be honest, other than fire, I don’t really know much about dragon magic. And he also has ironbringing, of course.”

Her father grunted. “What I could do is make it dark once we find him and kill any guards protecting him. Do you think it can help you? Can you do what you need to do without seeing him?”

“I’ll have fire, but some darkness might be enough to distract him. Getting rid of any guards might be good too. Thanks.”

Rooms in the castle whooshed before her. Bedrooms, a throne room, meeting rooms. What kind of magic would Cynon have? If Naia reached out, could she sense it? She’d been close to him and knew the difference between regular River and River with Cynon. If only she could isolate, identify the difference…

“Upstairs,” she said. “Really up. I think.” It was a hunch, a guess, an idea that a dragon would miss the heights and not want to be buried deep within the castle.

“I’ll try the observatory,” her father whispered.

They came to the top of a tower. Suddenly everything went dark, as if the sun had disappeared for a moment. She’d glimpsed Harold standing there, with guards outside. In a second, she shut the iron doors, then shot him a blast of fire.

Tzaria’s words were about fire and then removing the blood, so she thought she had to use the fire first. It should also immobilize dragons.

King Harold, or rather, Cynon, turned around and laughed at her. “You think you can use my magic against me? Silly girl. Only the Iron Dragon can kill me.”

“Really? What a coincidence.” Naia focused. With so much iron in that castle, something as subtle as someone’s blood was easy to miss, but it was also life, magic. In this case, it had an odd, tainted feel to it. It was true that Naia, unlike her brother, couldn’t manipulate many different objects at a time, but she could sense his blood as one thing. In a swift motion, she removed it, then blasted him with fire again.

She then said, “I happen to be an iron dragon too.” Too bad that he couldn’t hear her, as his body was shriveling and burning as if it were made of thin wood. She kept burning it, wanting to end everything.

“Naia.” It was Fel’s voice.

“I just killed Harold. Where are you?”

“I was able to escape, and now I’m going to find his dragon form.”

“Good.”

He had to be quick to ensure Cynon’s ties to this world were cut. Meanwhile, she burned Harold until his body became ash. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to kill him if he was just a vessel, but his actions had led to Cynon being here. And then perhaps there was no way to defeat this evil without killing this king. She couldn’t believe she was feeling bad for Harold. True that he was also her uncle.

Naia sighed, then glanced at her father. He was alert, keeping an eye on the door, not at all fazed by the sight of blood and death.

“Do you think this is enough?” she asked.

He looked at the remains on the floor, mostly ashes. “There’s nothing left of him, but I don’t know if there’s some magical rule…”

Naia blasted more fire. “I’ll burn him more—just in case. Thankfully the floor here is granite. Imagine if it was wood.”

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