The thought is not as troubling as it should be.
“A quarter of your workers away,” I whisper. “That seems high. Is there a holiday I don’t know about?”
Tilla shakes her head. “If only it were so. A strange illness seems to be passing through the city. Fever and hallucinations. Saw one bugger drop his hammer and start swatting at the air. Nearly threw himself off the bridge before we caught him.”
“Was he all right?” I ask.
“Physically, but the gal who walked him home said he just stared straight ahead as if—”
“As if all his wits had been snatched?”
“Yes.” She narrows her eyes. “How did you know?”
“A man at the market said Malice Spirits would come steal my wits if I didn’t put this fish on my mantel.”
“Hmm.” Tilla crosses her arms. “Hopefully the healers get to it. We’re busier than ever here. Seems like the Below is belching out more and more monsters lately, and there’s no finer weapon or armor to defend yourself than what comes from Spring.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I say.
“And you’ve been practicing with a bow, I assume?” She nods at the red marks along my arm. This morning, Dayton had insisted I practice without my thorn bow. And that, of course, had led to the string hitting my arm numerous times.
“Still learning. Ezryn ensures that I know which weapons in Castletree’s armory were forged in Spring. They’re always the best. He told me all about this place.”
Tilla gazes at me. “I’ve heard about you. The Lady of Castletree. I thought you were human, but it appears that rumor was wrong. And is it true, you are mate to two High Princes?”
I flush, but don’t feel defensive. Instead, Tilla’s curiosity strikes me as genuine. “I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself sooner. I’m Rosalina O’Connell. And yes, Farron and … and Keldarion are my mates.”
“That look on your face when you say his name tells me he hasn’t changed at all. I’m sure you’ve heard about me and him?”
“Only a little,” I admit. “Something about frogs in a bed?”
She snorts and bends before a large chest by her anvil. “Honestly, I should thank the thorny bastard for his interference. Kel leaving me on our wedding day was the best thing that ever happened to me. Our marriage would have been my family’s dream. Once it was over, I realized I could find my own.”
My stomach clenches. They almost got married?
Tilla stands and crosses her arms. “No reason to get your brow in a knot. He never loved me.”
Kel had a great love, Dayton said once. And it wasn’t Tilla. But then who?
I shake my head. “Well, he told me being my mate is utter torment.”
Tilla meets my gaze and then we both burst out laughing. “He truly has not changed.”
A great deal of huffing sounds behind us as Dayton and Farron drag the gold up the hill, red dust billowing behind them. “Now, what’s so funny?” Farron wheezes.
“Talking about how terrible Keldarion is,” I answer.
“Oh, can I join in?” Dayton smirks, dropping his end of the bucket, leaving Farron to scramble to hold it up. “Did I ever tell you about the time he turned my hot springs into a frozen pond? Just because he was in a pissy mood—”
“You two haven’t changed either.” Tilla sighs, then narrows her gaze at Farron, who has dragged the bucket the last bit by himself. “Maybe you look … older.”
He gives a sheepish grin. “We should get going.” He and Dayton start to walk toward the exit.
I turn to Tilla. “Thank you for your help today. I’m happy to have made your acquaintance.”
She grabs my arm. “In Spring, you are often gifted your first piece of armor for an act of selflessness. I heard what you did in Autumn. Now, having met you myself, I can see you are deserving of the steel of Spring.”
In her hand, she reveals a metal bracer overtop a woven leather piece, meant to tie around the wrist. The metal itself is silver and smooth, with the edges gilded in a floral pattern.
“It’s nothing fancy,” Tilla says, expertly tying it around my wrist. “But it’ll last you a lifetime and stop those pesky welts on your arm.”
“Thank you.” I hold it up, the metal catching the red fire of the forge. My own armor from the Spring Realm. “How can I ever thank you?”
“You don’t need to—”
I pluck the white flower from the fish trinket Dayton bought me and put it on her anvil. “It’s no Spring steel, but it’s all I have right now.”
Tilla picks up the flower and gives it a sniff. “I have a feeling there are great things ahead of you, Rosalina O’Connell. And besides, you’re mated to one of the iciest bastards in the realm. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”
27
Keldarion
The mechanical lift stutters down into the darkness. I stand in my fae form beside my uncle, neither of us speaking. My heart pounds with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. I’m dressed in the heavy fabrics made specifically for the Deep Guard, which blocks out most of the cold.
I’m familiar with Cryptgarden, but the rest of the Below, I’ve only heard about in stories. Irahn’s stories … and Caspian’s.
Memories threaten to take over my mind: the feeling of nimble fingers pushing hair away from my brow, the teasing whisper. The dark hides things even a Winter prince should fear.
Gears grind and chains clink in a discordant symphony. Thankfully, Irahn begins to speak, tearing me from my thoughts. “This is a lost world, boy. In the Badlands, the elements conspire to torment both our body and soul. But it is nothing compared to the chasm. Only in our unity can we survive. Each step we take, each blow we strike, is a testament to our resolve to the realm.”
“It would be my honor to serve among the brave men and women of the Deep Guard,” I respond.
Irahn laughs, a sound as hard and grating as the gears. “Things like honor and glory have no place in the chasm. Chasing after honor will only bring you death.”
Torches flicker by as we descend. Deep Guard fae walk along wooden parapets, carrying swords, spears, bows, and knives. They’re armed to the teeth.
A strange sensation lifts through the pit of my stomach as we plunge deeper. I instinctively grasp the cold railing, seeking an anchor. Every level that goes by is marked by a jolt, a brief pause, before the descent resumes. The temperature seems to drop with each passing moment.
We shudder past a cave opening, and a roar sounds from within. I turn to my uncle, eyebrows raised. He shrugs. “One of the guards assigned to this level will handle it.”
“And what level are we going to?”
Irahn grimaces. “We’re going beyond where there are levels.”
I roll my shoulders and feel for the Blessing of Winter. A deadly sharp ice blade grows in my hand. Just in case.