He stays silent for a moment, reminding me of Ezryn. Then he says: “Waiting for someone else to save you is a hopeless endeavor. The Queen is renowned as loving and just. She would not want us to sit in denial. A truly selfless ruler would want a new power to rise and shepherd the Vale as she had done before.”
It’s strange to see him speaking like this, quietly and with such thought. So different from my first impression of him when he confronted Ezryn. And yet…
I see it in his clenched fists, the heave of his heavily armored chest. A storm brews beneath the surface.
“My name is Rosalina O’Connell,” I say, straightening. “I’m … friends with your brother.”
“Oh, I know who you are, Lady O’Connell.” Kairyn turns and walks toward the door. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“Everyone?” I say more to myself.
Kairyn stands in the doorway. “My brother is a great many things, but a connoisseur of the arts he is not. It would be my honor to show you the monastery’s other masterpieces.”
Slowly, I step toward him. Looking down the hall, there’s no sign of Ez or Farron. But they know I’m here.
Kairyn is Ezryn’s family—maybe I can help soothe whatever resentment lies between them. We need allies more than ever.
“I’d be delighted,” I say.
Kairyn sweeps a huge hand behind my back and shivers run down my spine.
He leads me up a staircase and into a grand hall filled with tables, desks, and resplendently carved pillars. “This is the study chamber, a place for contemplation, meditation, and scholarly pursuits. It is also home to one of my favorite pieces of art.”
He directs me past a row of bow-necked acolytes and into a hallway capped by a beautiful arched window. Golden light from outside filters in onto a tapestry.
I drift over to it, eyes searching the threads. It goes from ceiling to floor, depicting an epic scene.
Stretching across the top are colorful, nebulous clouds. In the very middle, blooms a glowing rosebush.
I point up. “What is that?”
Kairyn’s voice echoes in the hallway. “The Above, of course. The first realm. A place that now only exists in memory … or so they say.”
My eyes drift lower to the very bottom. In a perfect parallel, it depicts caverns and dark mist. “That is the Below, I suppose.”
Kairyn quirks his head at me. “You do not recognize such sacred art. It must be true then.”
“Hmm?”
He takes a heavy step, his shape blocking out the light of the window. My heart pounds; he’s the only thing I can see, towering over me, his body silhouetted by the light. He reaches out a massive, gloved hand, and I shrink back—
But he only gently touches the point of my ear. “It’s true. You were not fae-born. Or you were and…”
I give a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I wish I could tell you the whole story, but I don’t even know it.”
“The Princes of Castletree have truly kept their little treasure to themselves.”
My voice finds strength: “The princes and I make the best decisions we can for Castletree.”
“Our dying hope,” he murmurs. “Twenty-five years they’ve been searching to heal the source of all magic, and still nothing. Some people may think they hoard the magic for themselves.”
“Some people would be wrong,” I growl.
“Rumor has it more problems plague our dear princes. Their home rots, goblins run wild, and some say they’ve even caught sight of a horrible monster running through the brambles. A beast in the Briar.”
Now, it’s my turn to steady myself, to be like Ezryn and think before I speak. “I find the scariest beasts aren’t the ones with teeth and claws, but the ones that hide behind a smile.”
We hold each other’s gazes—his that terrible dark void beneath the protruding metal brow—before he chuckles, deep and haunting.
“I happen to love things that scare me, Lady O’Connell.” He turns to the tapestry. “As you are a new-born fae and my brother has not seen fit to educate you, let me. I have often taught the youngest acolytes of our history.”
I shift back to the art, keeping Kairyn visible in my peripheral.
“At the dawning of time, there was only the Realm Above, a place of ethereal beauty. And it owed its radiance to the Gardens of Ithilias, a celestial rosebush that bathed the realm in its divine light.”
He sweeps his hand up toward the top image. A celestial rosebush … My heart thuds with anticipation.
“The fae lived here in peace and serenity. And yet, not all were happy to be bathed in the light. A fae woman coveted a land of her own. So, she stole a precious flower from the rosebush and, with its magic, forged the Realm Below.”
My eyes catch on the scene underneath the nebulous clouds: a fae woman is sewn into the threads, her eyes glinting even in the fabric. Her black hair flows behind her as she pulls a rose from its stem.
“In her new realm, the woman used the stolen rose to breed creations of her own, monsters crafted of the darkened soil of her realm.”
“The goblins,” I whisper.
“And the like.” It almost sounds like there’s a smile behind Kairyn’s lips, and I realize I must appear captivated.
Because I am.
“The fae woman who stole the rose,” I breathe. “What was her name?”
Kairyn’s fists clench. “Sira, Queen of the Below.”
I’ve heard the name. Farron’s words drift back to me from months ago: Someone even Caspian is afraid of.
Kairyn continues: “For her treachery in stealing the rose, Sira was banished from the Realm Above. In retaliation, she waged war upon those who had wronged her, unleashing her creations onto the celestial city. Despite their courage, the fae of the Realm Above knew not the ways of war. Sira destroyed the rosebush, and the Realm Above was lost.”
I can’t help it; my fingers drift over the images Kairyn depicts: the rosebush throttled by darkness, the clouds caving in on themselves. “That can’t be the end.”
“It wasn’t.” Kairyn reaches out and takes my hand in his, directing me to a new image. One of an ethereal fae drenched in light. Four roses float around her head. “A brave fae named Aurelia sensed the impending doom and severed four flowers from the rosebush before its demise.”
“Aurelia,” I whisper. “The Queen.”
“From the ashes of devastation, she crafted a new world and grew a grand castle, a tree imbued with the fallen magic of the Realm Above.” His voice lowers. “A twisted throne of power.”
I trace the edges of the brilliant tree, my heart blooming like its branches. “Castletree.” Home.
Kairyn’s movements are slow, languishing, as he leads me across the tapestry to the next image: a fabric version of the mosaic I saw earlier. “From the plucked roses, she created four realms, and bequeathed them to her four most loyal servants. She named them princes and princesses, forever binding the magic of these realms to hers. The self-proclaimed Queen of the Enchanted Vale sat upon her throne with vengeance in her heart.”
I turn to Kairyn. “What do you mean, vengeance?”
“The war was far from over, Lady O’Connell. Aurelia had lost her first home and suddenly had dominion over not one realm, but five. And she intended to make Sira pay for what she had taken.”