Forged by Malice (Beasts of the Briar, #3)

Nodding, I make my way across the Spring archives. Though they don’t hold quite the cozy charm of our library in the Autumn Wing of Castletree, they house many treasures. Books, records, and texts are all organized on metal shelves. High stone pillars lead up into the cavernous mountain side, and arched windows let in bright streams of light.

When we first entered, Farron had sniffed something along the lines of, “Books in a cave? The humidity!” But really, everything has been quite dry. Maybe it’s an enchantment.

Standing on tiptoes, I grab an old scroll we’d taken down a few days ago following another lead from my father. He’d sent: Can’t get the word ‘Aerantheis’ out of my head. Mean anything to you?

Turns out Aerantheis was an ancient city of Summer. Farron explained there’s a legend that it sunk to the bottom of the sea, but the Queen blessed the fae who lived there with tails so they could live in the ocean. Quite the origin for mermaids. Though the mystery still stands on how my father knew that name. Maybe Billy or Dom mentioned it to him.

Did you grab the ancient map? Not the new one, Farron says in my mind.

I have it, I send back. We’ve been getting good at chatting in each other’s minds. It’s easy to do this close, but we’ve also managed from opposite sides of Keep Hammergarden. Unfortunately, we haven’t quite figured out how to communicate when we’re in separate realms, but I’m sure that will come. When Farron and I work together, I feel like we can do anything.

I make it back to our long stone table, and his gaze slides down my body like a touch. I can’t help that the Spring dresses are so beautiful. Today, I’m dressed in an off-the-shoulder blouse with a billowing skirt, the hem embroidered with tiny flowers. My cheeks heat. Researching in a library reminds me of when we first met. He’s so gorgeous like this: vest, glasses, and floppy hair.

Farron straightens and clears his throat. “Ah yes, that’s the one.”

“I know it is,” I say, smirking.

We unroll the map, and he tracks his finger to the northern Autumn realmlands. “This must be where your father was. The ruin used to be a city called Calandorin.” Farron gets that determined look, then he taps the side of his nose. “You know, there was a legend about that place. I wonder if these stony archives will have it.”

He straightens and darts off into the stacks. While I wait, I take a seat next to another set of books. These texts are on mate bonds. One of the more fascinating is a collection of accounts trying to describe what it feels like to have a bond.

Mind speaking, a connection of the spirit, a sweeping fire that consumes body and soul. Like the other night. My mating frenzy. I’d explained to Farron in great detail how I felt like I was there with Kel, the mark on my neck … But I’d left out the other part. The visitor in my room.

Caspian had not been himself in that moment, and neither had I.

“Unfortunately, no luck. Not that I’m surprised. This is more of a tomb than a lib—” Farron rounds the corner. “Is everything all right?”

I breathe out a long sigh and tuck my hair behind my neck. “I’m fine. That’s too bad there’s nothing here about— What did you say the place was called?”

“Calandorin.”

Calandorin. The name sparks something at the back of my mind. Quickly, I scramble in my pack. My fingers clutch a smooth leather spine. “I’ve been meaning to show you this. I think I saw mention of that city in here.”

Farron hovers over me. “What is it?”

I thump the book on the table. Farron’s eyes widen. He runs a long finger over the letters. “This book is ancient. There’s a strange aura to it. Wherever did you find it?”

“I kind of stole it,” I admit. “From Caspian. He took it from your Scriptorium. Technically, it belongs to you.”

“I don’t think this kind of book belongs to anyone,” Farron murmurs.

I prepare myself for a deluge of questions, but my mate stares entranced, his touch tentative and curious over the leather binding.

“Let me show you,” I say and slowly open the book, flipping through the delicate pages until I find the image I was thinking of, a mountain etched in inky lines, spewing black smoke.

“Calandorin’s original location lay at the base of a volcano,” Farron says, reading the text. “One day it erupted without warning, and only the Queen was able to make it there in time. But she couldn’t find a way to get all the fae off the mountain before the lava reached them.”

My eyes drift back to the rubbing. “So, she changed them…”

“The Queen used her magic to transform them all to birds so they could safely fly down the mountain.”

“And that’s how birds were created. Like the mermaids?”

Farron flips the pages. “No, she changed them back. They built a new city and must have paid homage to her with the plaque your father found.”

“The magic of change,” I whisper. “Man to animal. Is there any other fae with that power?”

Farron shakes his head, auburn hair falling across his brow. “There are some fae who transform themselves, such as from fae to unicorn. Or mermaids can have legs for a time. But there’s no magic of transformation on others, such as Queen Aurelia had.”

“No,” I say, an idea hitting me like a stroke of lightning. “The Enchantress who cursed you … changed you from fae to beast.” My chest heaves with breath. “Could she be the Queen returned?”

Farron gets a faraway look. “The thought has crossed my mind before. And she would have just cause, for we four failed her realms. Sometimes people do horrible things to protect something they love.”

“But if the Enchantress was the Queen, why would she leave after?” I continue. “Castletree is sick. Why wouldn’t she help it or any of the realms? In all the stories about her, she’s always doing good.”

“Indeed. And how does this legend aid your father’s search?”

“I don’t know,” I say, turning back to Papa’s letter. “It’s a good story, but what does it have to do with my mother? Why does Papa think the type of bird is important?”

“Perhaps she was one of the citizens who was transformed into a bird?” Farron suggests.

“Maybe.” I stare at the rubbing of the Queen. There’s a tiny spiral around her throat. Is it a rose?

My hand unconsciously drifts to my necklace. Is it possible my mother had some connection to the ancient Queen? Maybe she didn’t find this necklace.

Maybe it was a gift.

“I’ll start a reply to your father, detailing what information we’ve learned.” Farron sits down at the table and pulls out a quill and ink. “Keep that book safe, Rosalina. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from it. But we should get back to our other research. Figure out more about this mating frenzy of yours.”

I tuck the book back into my bag. The thought of the wilde courtship turns my thoughts back to purple eyes and a leering smile. I smooth out invisible wrinkles in my skirt. “Farron, I need to tell you something. Something I’ve kept hidden because I’m ashamed and scared.”

Farron jumps up so fast, his quill falls and drops blotches of ink on the paper. He wraps his arms around me, and I realize I’m shaking. “It’s okay, Rosie. You can tell me anything, you know that.” He sits back in his chair, pulling me on to his lap.

“It’s about Caspian.”

Elizabeth Helen's books