I turn back to Farron, wipe crumbs off his cheek, and give him a quick kiss. “Come on, Autumn Prince. We’ve got a party to go to.”
But his hands tighten on my waist, and the kiss deepens until my whole body melts beneath his touch. “First, Princess of Autumn, it would be a shame to waste this perfectly cleared table,” Farron whispers against my neck, before throwing me on it.
40
Caspian
Birdy is cackling. When I was a child, I thought cackling was something only described in fairytales, like witches brewing a cauldron they threatened to put naughty children into. That was until I met my sister. Though I suppose she’s like a witch now, hunched over in her lair, brewing …
“Always playing with your potions,” I say, leaning against the entrance to her chamber. “Planning on poisoning your dear brother again?”
Those of the Vale always say the citizens of the Below have a fascination with the realms above, but my little sister takes that to an extreme. And why wouldn’t she? A little girl growing up down here. When she was younger, I felt guilty and brought her back the odd thing from time to time. She’s like a crow. It matters not to her if the item is from the human or the fae world, if it’s shiny, Birdy covets it.
Now, she lives in one of Cryptgarden’s highest towers and has filled it with trinkets. In every nook and cranny, there are brightly colored bottles and chalices teetering precariously on ledges, and the floor is a million shades of spilled and splattered colors.
Currently, she’s curled over a stone table staring intently at the blue bubbling concoction.
“You should have seen it, Cas,” she says without looking up. “The potion I made the other day … It was incredible.”
“Hmm.” I stroll in. Her messy desk is a disaster waiting to happen. Containers filled with all sorts of—I wrinkle my nose—ingredients, I suppose she’d call them. Herbs, insects, crystals, water with messy labels depicting different stages of the moon, as well as a variety of flowers, shells, and an assortment of blue blobs bouncing against a glass jar. Now, those were tedious to catch for her.
“Took me ages to get it right, but I finally got it! Worked like a charm.” She rubs her nose, smearing soot across her face.
She’s not wearing her Nightingale armor. Instead, her hair is pulled back, and she’s dressed in an oversized tunic and leggings.
“Let me guess.” I smile. “A love potion for that armored owl of yours? I told you before, he’s enamored. You don’t need it.”
She blows a tuft of hair out of her eyes. “No. And besides, love potions don’t exist. But what I made was the next best thing.”
There’s a snapping of heels, the brush of long robes. I straighten, breath catching in my throat, and recognize the same stiffening in Birdy.
Sira storms into the room without knocking. “Would you like to explain why the High Prince of Spring is back on the throne and those other miserable princes are with him?”
Birdy’s lip trembles, the smile from a moment ago completely gone.
My mother seems to notice me for the first time. “What are you doing here? They’ve neglected to defend Castletree. Take it now!”
I give a long sigh. “Do you really think they would have all left Castletree without several wards in place?” They’d left a few, but like their magic, their wards are weak. Maybe enough to stop a few wayward goblins. Not enough to stop me.
Birdy bows her head. “Presently, I’m in talks with Prince Kai—”
Sira grabs a potion from my sister’s desk and smashes it against Birdy’s face.
To her credit, the Nightingale barely flinches. She stands perfectly still as the blood and sticky blue liquid trickles down her cheek.
Sira snatches Birdy’s chin with one hand. Shadows flicker around the tips of her fingers. “I thought I could mold you into something worthy, but it seems I was wrong. I do not tolerate failure.”
Birdy’s lip trembles. She blinks rapidly. Dammit, she knows better than to cry in front of our mother.
Leaning on the table, I examine my nails. “I suppose I could help her, Mother. Not much to do while I wait for my magic to siphon their wards.”
Sira pushes my sister away and turns to the door. “Do not disappoint me again, my children.”
As her footsteps fade down the hall, I pluck a pair of tweezers from the countertop. “Sit down, Birdy. You’ve got glass in your cheek.”
41
Keldarion
The water is a milky blue, steam rising from the surface and curling at the rocky roof. This cave is one of the few comforts allowed to the Deep Guard of Voidseal Bridge. Located a few hours’ march from our base, it’s a popular destination for mandatory rest days. I hadn’t wanted to accompany the host of soldiers heading this way, but my uncle had insisted, eventually convincing me by stating, “If your sword doesn’t kill the creatures of the Below, by the seven realms, Kel, your smell will.”
These secluded caverns contain large pools of natural hot springs, though they lack the salty air of the one in Castletree. But up here, any warmth is luxurious. All modesty is stripped away, and fae men and women bathe alongside each other. I’ve found my own space, secluded in a stony alcove. From here, I can still see the mouth of the cavern, where snow falls from a gray sky.
Large white bubbles float past me, carrying a sweet scent. The smell of roses. A deep warmth blooms in my chest.
Whirling, I tread through the water, following the floating bubbles. Then I see a figure, her back to me, hands massaging bubbles through her hair. How is she here?
She’s out of the view from the rest of the company. I tread faster, then grasp her arm. “Rosalina?”
Magic sparkles between us, a humming in my ears, and I have the strange sensation of pulling something over a vast distance. Of pulling her.
Rosalina spins, blinking wildly, and wraps her arms over her chest. Her gaze settles on me, and she lowers her arms. The water comes up to her collarbone, anyway. “Kel?”
“How are you here?” I growl.
She tilts her head, looking adorable with her hair piled in bubbles. A grin spreads across her face as she looks around. “Whoa, where are you? A snowy hot spring? This is so cool.”
“Did our bond bring you here?” I wonder. It’s nothing I’ve heard of before, but like in the dream, she feels very much here and present with me.
“I think so,” Rosalina says. “I was in the bath, getting ready for a Spring jubilee tonight, but then I felt … Well, I felt you.”
Memories of the last time we were together flood back to me, how desperately I’d craved her, how in that moment I’d have done anything to claim her. I can’t let that happen again.
“You should go,” I growl.
“This place is magical,” she sighs, wading about. Her long neck tilts up to stare at the large, cavernous ceiling.
She glides around the rocky corner. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”