Page 75 of Realm of Nightmares
A river of blood.
“Shit,” Aran breathed. “How are we supposed to get across this?”
“I’m not sure.” Tiernan shook his head, disbelieving. “This wasn’t here last time.”
He stepped closer to the water’s edge, climbing up a small snowdrift. Removing one glove, he crouched to dip the tips of his fingers into the red rapids. The river was colder than he expected, more frigid than even the Cloudborn Sea. But what unhinged him the most was that it wasthick. A metallic stench wafted toward him, and his gut recoiled.
“It’s actual fucking blood.” Tiernan jerked back, wiping his hand roughly against the solid snow. The ground was stained crimson instantly.
“Seven hells.” Aran strode closer, inspecting the river of blood for himself.
“We should set up camp here for a few hours.” Tiernan backed up slightly, unnerved by the sight. He didn’t want to imagine the number of bodies it would take to create an entire river of blood. “Allow ourselves some time to rest and figure out how to get across it.”
Aran nodded, stepping away.
They didn’t have tents or any kind of protective covering. But they spread out their fireweave blankets and started a small fire to ward away the chill. They shared some rations—a few toughened strips of seasoned meat, some sugar-dusted berries courtesy of Brynn, and two chunks of bread. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep them nourished.
Flames licked the branches they’d snapped off a few of the surrounding trees. The ones littering the ground were too damp from the snow to ignite. It had taken nearly an hour to start, but finally the logs started burning and tiny tendrils of smoke curled into the air, snuffing out the pungent reek of the river.
“What were your travels like?” Tiernan asked, determined to keep some kind of conversation flowing between them so his mind wouldn’t wander back to the fact that they would likely attempt to cross a river of blood in the middle of the night.
“Far different than anything you’d find in Faeven.” Aran tore off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. “Some of them were more…wild. Others were remarkable. Sprawling cities with harbors housing boats of all shapes and sizes, carrying goods from other lands. Quite astonishing, really. I painted many of them.”
He reached for his flask of water.
“Your maps.” Tiernan nodded, considering the High Prince’s words. He’d left Faeven before, a number of times, but he’d never been to other realms like the ones Aran described. “And where you went for the siphoning tools, is that such a place?”
“Prava.” The emerald of Aran’s eyes seemed to warm, and he scooped up a handful of the berries. “Its capital is Starysa and they call it the Golden City because the rooftops are gilded. When the sun strikes the palace, it casts the entire city in a magnificent golden glow.”
“Sounds fascinating.” Tiernan imagined he’d like to travel to this Prava one day.
“They have vehicles there,” Aran continued, and Tiernan’s head snapped up. “With wheels that move of their own accord. All powered by some sort of magic, but they’re expeditiously faster than horseback. Perhaps not as quick as flying, but certainly less exhausting.”
Sitting back on his fireweave blanket, Tiernan propped his hands up behind him, mesmerized by such an invention.
“I might return there,” Aran said suddenly.
Tiernan’s brows shot up. “To Prava, you mean?”
Aran traced the leather stitching of his flask and didn’t meet Tiernan’s gaze. “Yes.”
“What of Autumn? And Maeve?”
She would be devastated to learn that Aran planned to leave. He’d witnessed the sorrow crush her every time the High Prince sailed away.
“I imagine my father will live many more years to come, and as for Maeve…” He looked up, his face a void of emotion. “She has you.”
“She’ll miss you fiercely,” Tiernan countered.
“Then I suppose you’ll have to bring her to visit.” Aran propped his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and folding his hands together. “Surprisingly enough, I miss the sea. The freedom of it, the ability to do as I please. My father, though I’m more than grateful for his return, has certain expectations. He always has, even when I was younger. But I long for the adventure of travel.”
He smiled then, his brows quirked in mock amusement. “Perhaps you exiling me was more of a blessing than a curse.”
The corner of Tiernan’s mouth lifted in response, but there was something else, something the High Prince neglected to say. “And?” he prodded.
Aran tucked a fallen strand of hair back from his face. “And there’s this female.”
He saw it almost immediately, the change in the High Prince’s expression. The shift. It was one he understood all too well. “You’re in love with her.”
