“Leave Rosalina to me. Forget about her,” I growl. “Return to Spring.”
The Nightingale shakes out of my grip, something feral flashing in her gaze. “I’ll never forget this.”
16
Farron
Papers fly out of my fingers as I throw the useless scraps over my shoulder. I’ve read and reread these texts and accounts a thousand times now. And yet, I’m still no closer to understanding.
I heave in a breath and clutch one of the wooden shelves in the alder tree. This sacred, secret space is the resting place of Autumn’s Great Scriptorium of Alder, and it has been a sanctuary to me before. Today, it feels like a prison, a tomb of worthless information.
Guilt creeps through my mind. I lied to Rosalina, to all of them. I’d told everyone I was spending so much time in the Autumn Realm so I could help situate my father as the new steward. Truthfully, my father doesn’t need my help; he’d been assisting my mother run Autumn for decades. With the winter wraiths gone, our crops are once again thriving, the once displaced villagers back in their homes.
No, I’ve been in Autumn for a different reason. One I will not voice to Rosalina. She’s been through so much already. I can’t add another burden.
But I have to know the reason why Caspian is able to speak in her mind.
And if it’s for the reason I fear, then I must figure out how to break it.
I collapse to the ground, fingers digging into my hair. There’s nothing left. I’ve scoured everything in here; so much was lost to my beast and Caspian’s most recent betrayal last month.
I ripped his notebook, and he returned the act by forcing me to destroy centuries of sacred literature and bringing an army of goblins to slaughter innocent soldiers. If there ever had been good in Caspian, it has been torn out of him root by root until only his selfish heart remains.
Forcing in a shaky breath, I remind myself to be grateful for what is left within the alder tree. Before George O’Connell left on his expedition with my little brothers, he painstakingly reconstructed what he could from the wreckage. There’s no doubting where Rosalina gets her tenacious spirit.
“I must accept what is,” I whisper to myself, a phrase I’ve repeated over and over these last few weeks. There is nothing here that will explain why the Prince of Thorns can speak in my mate’s mind. Or at least, no information that contradicts my worst fear.
But I won’t stop. Rosalina’s just discovered an entirely new life: her faedom, her dormant magic. Her mate. Caspian destroys everything he touches. I won’t let him destroy her.
Though Kel won’t speak to me of his bargain, I’ve finally begun to understand him. Maybe it’s through the connecting bonds of our shared mate, but I feel it deep within my chest. Kel would die for Rosalina.
But more than that, he’d let everyone else die for her, too.
I put back the papers I discarded and tidy up the strewn-about texts. Perhaps I need to learn from Keldarion. The best way I can protect Rosie is to be with her.
I should return to Castletree.
As I make to leave the alder tree, I cast a glance to a pedestal pushed to the dark shadows. A faint green glow illuminates the space. I’ll come back for you. I think.
Perth’s crown was capable of reanimating the dead. If one could harness the Green Flame energy differently, could it halt death forever?
My chest tightens as I think of my mother, of her own lance cracking through her ribs. And the monster who did that to her escaped. Rage barrels past the grief, and I can almost feel the ghost of the wild beast thrashing to break out. But the beast is gone. Only I remain.
I step out into the chilly air. My elk Thrand and Rosalina’s horse Amalthea graze nearby on the new grass that has grown over what used to be ruins. I walk over and run a hand along Thrand’s flank. “One day, I’ll bring you home to Castletree. The briars will be gone, and grass will grow again. Streams of crystal-clear water will flow, and meadows of flowers will stretch over the hills.”
What did we even call the Briar before it became such? The Queen’s Realm, I remember. A place where all the wonder and magic of the Vale merged together.
But for now, the Briar is my home, and I must return to Castletree, to my mate.
A flutter sounds, and I look up to see a white bird flying toward me. A sea bird, a sandpiper. You don’t belong here.
But the bird is not a bird at all, with wings of paper and markings of ink. A message.
I pluck it from the sky and unravel the note.
Goblins. Spring steel.
Dayton and Rosalina are in trouble.
17
Rosalina
I keep right on Ezryn’s heel as he storms through the gates into Keep Hammergarden, nattering as fast as I can at him, catching him up on what conspired at Castletree. “—and that’s when we saw what they were wielding. Spring steel, Dayton called it. He immediately sent letters to Farron and Kel letting them know what happened, and then we came right here.”
“The goblins have long used crude imitations of our weapons,” Ezryn says. “For them to have stolen our own resources is unprecedented.”
I stare up at him, silent. I don’t think I even understand the gravity of what Dayton and I discovered. But a sense of comfort rushes through me, being here, being with Ezryn. He always bears his burdens alone.
Not anymore.
A fae man scrambles down the steps of the wall and stops in our path. He leans over, hands on his knees, panting. “Sire, must you always be leaping off buildings? You could twist an ankle, or more likely, dent our lovely cobblestone. Oh!” He notices me. “Why, hello there. Have we met before?”
I smile at the newcomer. He’s got a nervous jitter to him, but his eyes are kind. “I don’t think so. I’m Rosalina O’Connell.”
“This is Eldy, Keep Hammergarden’s majordomo,” Ezryn says. “And a good friend.”
“Rosalina O’Connell.” Eldy says my name like each syllable is special in its own way. “A pleasure to meet you. I wasn’t aware,” he looks between me and Ezryn, “the High Prince was currently courting anyone.”
“I’m not,” Ezryn says bluntly, and I flinch. The feel of him between my legs when we were in the Below floods through me: the dark shroud of his backward helm obscuring my vision until there was only his mouth and tongue. Call me old-fashioned, but bringing a lady to a private arboretum and eating her out like your own personal buffet kind of feels like courting.
“She’s High Prince Farron’s mate,” Ezryn continues.
And there it is. I know Ez and Day are thrilled for me and Farron; they’re the only ones I think who might love Farron as much as I do. But it’s just another reminder that their curses worsen, that they’re missing out on someone who could love and cherish them with every fiber of their being, who would see them for more than the beasts and the sins, but the wonderful, strong men that they are—
And that person isn’t me.