He shakes his head. “No, though I’m not surprised. You’ve always been the strongest of us all.”
“I wish there was a way I could get you all safely to Castletree,” I tell Astrid, Marigold, and Eldy. “There’s no way to know what will happen to us when we venture into Florendel. If something goes wrong, someone will need to warn the rest of the staff about what happened in Spring, and that Kairyn could show up at anytime.”
“Well, there is one thing I could try,” Eldy says. He closes his eyes, concentration turning inward. A spark of magic surges in the air, and suddenly, the man is replaced by a small wren.
“You can still do it?” I gasp.
“Yes, mistress,” the little bird peeps.
“Castletree is not far, as the crow flies,” Keldarion says. “He could make it before nightfall.”
I turn to Astrid and Marigold. “It will be safer there than here. There’s no one better to lead the staff than you two. Will you join him?”
Astrid grasps both my hands. “From the moment Prince Ezryn put me in your service, Princess Rosalina, I have known there is something special about you. You showed me kindness even when you had no reason to. You have fought bravely for us. Beyond it all, you have become my friend. I trust you.”
“Might as well try, girlie.” Marigold smirks. “I won’t have that birdbrain flying across the Briar with no one to watch his tail feathers.”
I close my eyes, concentrating on the feel of Astrid’s hands in mine. When I turned Eldy into a bird, it had been instinctual, a last-ditch effort at survival. But this is slower, more focused.
Magic rises in me like a tide, prickling along my skin. I let it fill me until there is no more room, then I open a stream from my fingers to Astrid, letting it flow from me to her.
Something shocks me, and I grip her hands tighter, like the bite of a snake.
There is already magic in her.
Powerful magic.
But it’s magic I know to my bone. Like being taught a brand-new language in a single second. This is my mother’s curse woven into her very being.
I understand it would be unwise to try to break it this way. Instead, I let my own magic pass through the cracks, settle in the empty spaces. Not a lot, just enough for one transformation of her own.
And once I find the spaces, it’s surprisingly easy. I see the shape of my mother’s magic, the artifacts of change.
This is just adding one more layer.
Sweat pools on my brow and upper lip. Almost there … I push one last flood of power into Astrid and feel a bright sparkle. Light flashes beyond my closed lids.
With a gasp, I open my eyes to see a pale white bird fluttering before me.
“You did it!” Astrid chirps happily.
My face lights up with a smile as I swiftly turn to Marigold. A strange sense of sadness fills me as I feel her curse still inside. A torment that could be no more if we had broken Ezryn’s curse.
Marigold’s change happens quicker, and soon she becomes a larger wren, flapping golden wings beside the other two.
“When you get to Castletree, instruct the staff to start fortifications,” I say. “Harvest whatever food you can from the gardens, board the windows, and begin sorting the weapons.”
“Of course, Princess,” Astrid says. “But why?”
Keldarion places an arm around my waist. “Rosalina is right. What Kairyn began cannot go unanswered. War is coming to the Enchanted Vale.”
101
Keldarion
“What in the seven realms is that?” I murmur, hunched behind Ezryn as he guides us through the secret mountain passage beneath Keep Hammergarden. Rosalina trails closely behind me, her bow a perfect fit for her hand. Princess.
But she wasn’t the first person to call herself that. What do you know about her, Cas?
“That is my brother’s project,” Ezryn whispers, drawing me from my thoughts.
A formidable airship stands silent and foreboding. Its dark wood exterior exudes an aura of menacing elegance. The smoky black sails, resembling the outstretched wings of a colossal bat, rest folded, casting a looming presence in the dimly lit chamber.
“Stick tight to the walls,” Ezryn commands. “Almost there.”
I know this cavernous path is one of the few ways into the keep without going through the city itself, but now I’m wishing we took our chances above ground. The cavern is swarming with goblins and Queen’s Army. Thankfully, they all seem focused on the ship, pulling ropes and loading crates into the hull.
I managed to escape the city originally by blending in with the dazed citizens, but there’s no way Ezryn will make it past any of the guards. Not only do his ears now mark him as the banished prince, but his eyes … There’s something alight within him that I don’t think he could quell if he wanted to.
We stay in the shadows and creep behind a line of rocks before Ezryn finds the hidden doorway. His agile fingers detect the right notch in the rock, and it opens, revealing a staircase.
It’s strange to see his expression as he works; it almost seems more emotionless than his helmet.
“We get my father and come back out this way. No distractions,” he orders.
Rose nods. “Right. Dayton and Farron are waiting.”
I take the first step on to the stairs, holding my hand back for Rosalina. Her touch gives me strength. As much as I would rather she be anywhere but here, I know there’s nowhere entirely safe in the Enchanted Vale.
Despite all my fighting, all my denial, I know the truth of it now.
We are safest when we are together.
Ezryn closes the door, and we proceed up the stairs. He looks strange, in the white and gold acolyte clothes, the flower behind his wounded ears. The same flower Rosalina and I wear to protect us. The stairs lead to a low ceiling with a hatch. I push it open and poke my head out to a dark room. Carefully, I lift myself up, then reach down for Rosalina. Her bow gives off a soft light.
“I’ve been here before,” she says, looking around. “The first time Ezryn confronted his brother, Dayton, Astrid, Marigold, Eldy, and I hid in here to watch. See? You can look out at the throne room here.” She pulls me over to a mesh covering, thin enough to see through.
Sure enough, the entire throne room spreads before us. It’s covered in plants: huge vases and pots filled with blooming red flowers and creeping green vines. At least there’s no one here, save for—
“My father,” Ezryn breathes.
Prince Thalionor sits in a wooden chair beside the throne. I stifle a jolt. We saw him only earlier today, and his health seemed grim, but now…
He wavers back and forth, fingers scratching along the metal helms that make up the throne. His armor is ill-fitting, the breastplate askew, one shoulder pauldron hanging off. It’s as if the old fae has increased in size. Long, greasy gray hair pokes out from beneath his helm. Yellow pus dribbles from beneath it as well, spilling over his gorget.
I keep my voice low, steady. “We must be careful. He’s surely being watched—”
Before the words have even left my mouth, Ezryn has torn open the door and sprinted into the throne room.