Her fingers tremble in my hand, and I realize I haven’t let go. But she hasn’t let me go, either. Her skin is more calloused than Rosalina’s, hand smaller than Farron's, and yet … I can’t deny there is something comforting about having someone to hold in this moment. Having a connection to one person in a place so dangerous. “Your father is from the Summer Realm, right? All children of Summer share a connection to the sea.” Slowly, I draw both our hands into the fountain. “Can you feel it?”
She grimaces. “Feels like water.”
The fountain is cold, mountain water. It’s not Summer, with the salt and cresting waves. But every moment we hesitate, Fare gets further and further away. I can’t lose him.
Rosie wouldn’t have any trouble seeing the similarity between salt and fresh water. No, she shifts effortlessly between all of us. She appeared just as at home here in Spring as she did in the Autumn Realm. But I can’t keep thinking about Rosalina. I need to focus on Wrenley.
“Magic flows through all of the Enchanted Vale, as do rivers and lakes and seas. You are connected to it.”
She shakes her head, a look of sadness in her eyes. “Not like that.”
“Try thinking of a memory around water. Do the Golden Acolytes have any hymns about a lake?” Her glare has me chuckling softly. “Humor me, Wren.”
“My brother taught me to swim,” she whispers. “The river was so cold I used to spit and snarl every time he brought me to the edge. But once I got in, I always had fun. He’d throw colorful stones and make me dive to get them.”
“My brothers taught me to swim, too,” I say. “Though their idea of fun was tossing me in the surf and seeing how long it took me to come to the surface. Joke was on them. I could hold my breath under water a whole minute longer than Damocles.”
It’s so rare to think of Damocles and Decimus like that. To have a memory that isn’t tainted by blood. Even though there’s no magic within me, there’s a tiny part that sparks, thinking of those waves, the beach and sand.
Keeping my eyes closed, I swirl our hands in the water. “Feel it flow between your fingers. Mold it in your mind, let it take shape. Then, Wrenley, let it go.”
A huge geyser of water explodes from the fountain, covering us and the nearby citizens in its wave. Screams and disorder erupt.
“You did it!” I cry, hoping my voice is lost in the uproar.
There’s a smile on Wrenley’s face, one I’ve never seen on her before, but for some reason it’s familiar. A laugh bubbles out of her. “I can’t believe I did that. How did I do that?”
“Judging by the size of that wave, there’s more than a little magic in you.”
Her wet hair falls across her brow, and there’s such a look of bewildered joy on her face, I almost hate to interrupt it in any way. Unfortunately, her smile doesn’t fit in with the dazed look most Spring citizens bear.
“Come on,” I grip her arm, helping her stand. “Let’s find Farron.”
The crowd is in chaos. Fae shriek as the water breaks their hypnosis. Goblins and soldiers attempt to intervene.
I see Fare in the crowd and snag his arm. Unfortunately, he escaped the water and is still dazed as fuck.
“This way!” Wrenley waves to me from an alley, and I drag Fare toward her.
In the brief safety of the shadows, I spin him around, heart clenching. “Baby, you fucking idiot. You were curious and got too close to those flowers, huh? Damn you.” I kiss him. But it’s like kissing a statue.
“That’s not going to work.” Wrenley tears the flower from her hair in half and shoves it under his nose.
Farron takes a huge gasp, then blinks his large eyes. “D-Day? What’s—”
“I thought I smelled High Prince.”
We whirl to see two goblins at the entrance to the alley, armed with short swords and shields.
Farron immediately steps in front of me, flames dancing on his fingertips.
“Your magic will only draw more,” Wrenley says. “We have to run.”
“They’ve got us backed into a corner, sweetheart,” I say. No magic, no swords. I’m just thinking of how I can convince the gobbos to engage with me in a fistfight when something whooshes in front of my face.
A crossbow bolt lodges in the head of the first goblin. The second only has time to look up before a bolt strikes him through the eye.
Tilla is hunched on a rooftop, crossbow in hand, dark hair blowing wildly in the wind. She quickly slings it over her shoulder, then throws a rope down at us. “This way.”
Farron scales the wall first, and I gesture for Wrenley to go next.
“I don’t know if I can.” Her fingers shake as she touches the rope, glancing nervously at the dead goblins, their black blood seeping into the cobblestone. “I’m not brave like you.”
“What are you talking about?” I touch her shoulder. “You saved me and Keldarion. Plus, you worked for Kairyn. If that’s not brave, I don’t know what is. Now link your hands around my neck. I’ll pull you up.”
She nods determinedly, and we quickly scale the wall.
“Tilla!” I open my arms for a hug. “Never thought I’d be happy to see you.”
Her lip curls into a sneer and she sidesteps. “Can’t say I’ve yet to feel the same, Summer Prince. Follow me.”
We jump from rooftop to rooftop, quick as shadows. From up here it’s easy to see just how bad Florendel is. Goblins, Spring guards, and members of the Queen’s Army patrol every corner. Fae wander in a daze, and those that don’t are carted away.
Tilla silently motions toward a rock wall along the base of the mountain at the edge of the city. When she presses her palm against the stone, the rock shimmers. She passes through.
An illusion.
We enter to a wave of thick heat, dark red walls, and on to a narrow bridge overlooking the Draconhold Forge.
There are no workers, and no store of swords or metal like last time we were here. “A little on the empty side,” I say lowly.
Tilla looks over her shoulder. “Kairyn’s forces stormed the place immediately after Ezryn’s banishment. They took everything: the weapons, the metal. Killed anyone who tried to stop them.”
A growl rumbles in my chest. We pass over the bridge and into another narrow tunnel.
“I’ve been trying to help those who were unaffected escape the city,” Tilla continues. “And help free those that are. Water and that white flower are the only ways to do it. Either clear the pollen from the airways or neutralize it. We’re gathering in the mountain tunnels.”
“Where will you go?” Wrenley asks.
“I don’t know. The idea of abandoning my city kills me, but there’s no way to fight this.”
Farron and I exchange a glance. Go to Castletree. That should be the answer. Why else did the Queen make it so large and vast? Why else create a road from each capital to the castle? But now those roads are overrun with briars and goblins. And even if the people were to make it there, what would they find? Thorny halls and cursed nights? The new High Prince?
We have failed our people.
We have failed our people so greatly.
“Send them to Summer,” I say quickly. “I’ll help you guide them.”
Tilla gives me an almost pitying expression. “There’s something you need to see.”
She guides us around another corner until I feel a trickle of fresh air. There’s a small, curved opening in the rock.