She barks a laugh. “No, no. He’s a character in a great legend. There have been thousands of stories written about him and Queen Guinevere.”
Rosalina and her books. Since her time at Castletree, I’ve heard about all her favorite characters. “Tell me of this Sir Lancelot and his Queen.”
Rosalina leans against the trunk of a tree. “Lancelot was renowned as one of the bravest and most gallant knights who ever served great King Arthur. Yet, he had a passionate streak, a fiery temper that he had to repress on behalf of his honor.”
“Hmm, sounds like an interesting fellow.” I brace a hand beside her head. “And who was this Queen Guinevere?”
“She was a beautiful maiden. So beautiful that Lancelot fell madly in love with her upon first sight. And she loved him back.” Rose blinks her huge brown eyes at me. “Their love was such that they forsook all honor, all commitments, to be with one another.”
“Why could they just not love each other?” I breathe.
“Because,” Rosalina whispers, “she belonged to his best friend. And he had a duty to his people, to the throne.”
“Oh.” Something shifts in my chest, like coals smoldering, fighting for life against the ash. “What happened to them?”
Rosalina’s eyes drift down, staring into nothing. “Lancelot is consumed by guilt and remorse and disappears from Guinevere’s life in a self-imposed exile.”
“What of the Queen?”
“She is nearly burned at the stake,” Rosalina whispers, “for choosing to love a man who could never belong to her.”
The music and chatter of the party fill the air, but it feels like there’s nothing but emptiness around me. “Such is the fate for foolish dreamers.”
“It’s just a story,” Rosalina says, and I hear the pitch in her voice, an attempt at merriness.
I force myself to emulate her tone. “Look, there’s Dayton. You should give him a dance.”
“Right.” She nods and starts to head out before turning back to me. “There are thousands of versions of that story, Ez. Maybe one day I’ll write my own. One where Lancelot and Guinevere end up together.”
“I will be the first to read it.”
She smiles, then drifts away from me, petals in a breeze.
I sigh and collapse my weight against the trunk. I need a moment to collect my thoughts—
“You’ve hardly left her side all night and here I was, thinking my big brother would seek me out.” Kairyn disengages from the shadows as if he is merely an extension of them.
“I hate parties,” I growl.
“I know.”
We look at each other in silence; the whole thing is so ridiculous, I nearly laugh.
“A sword at a party?” Kairyn muses, looking at Windscythe on my back.
“Trust me. I’ve been to enough parties now to know it’s always best to be prepared.”
Kairyn’s gaze leaves mine and searches the clearing before landing on Rosalina. “You care for that fae.”
“She is mate to the High Prince of Autumn,” I say quickly. “I swore to Farron I would protect her with my life.”
“No.” Kairyn seems wrong in this place, his armor absorbing the light instead of reflecting it. “It’s more than that. She is … precious to you.”
“It matters not.”
“Tell me,” Kairyn says, “do you think she will still smile so sweetly at you when she learns the truth?”
Ice floods my veins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But how could you tell her, when you’ve never admitted it to me?”
A growl rumbles in my throat, and I grab his arm firmly. “We will not speak of this here. And I will not speak of this with you.”
Kairyn shakes his head. “Typical. You are more than willing to look into the future of Spring with me, but will never look to the past. Tell me, did you even deigned to pay your respects to Mother yet?”
When I don’t answer, my brother melds back into the dark edges of the party. I am left dancing with the fireflies.
43
Rosalina
Though this is the fourth fae party I’ve attended, each one feels like the first time. The realms are all so unique and wondrous.
“Hey, silly.” Dayton smirks at me. “You’ve got petals on your face.”
His rough hand rubs at my cheek, and I can’t help but wrap my fingers around his wrist. In the gentle glow of the stars, his hair looks like burnished gold, topped by a crown of flowers.
“It was a cake with edible flowers! How cool is that?”
“Very cool, Rosie.” He doesn’t take his hand away. “Are you done eating your cake so we can dance?”
The prickling sensation of being watched travels over me, and I scan the party. Hovering beside a lily pond is the acolyte from the temple. She’s not dressed in her robes, instead wearing a blue gown that falls above her ankles. Pink daisies cover the gauzy fabric of her dress, and a matching crown adorns her short, brown hair.
Wrenley. Dayton had told me her name. “You should ask her to dance.”
“I don’t feel like dancing.”
“You literally just asked if I was finished with my cake so we could dance.”
Dayton puts a hand behind his head, raising the hem of the nearly transparent shirt high enough that I can glimpse the toned muscles of his stomach. “Changed my mind.”
“Day…”
Farron has wandered off, but he wouldn’t be any help in this matter. I think he’s convinced himself Dayton will never find his mate and we’ll be able to keep him forever.
If only.
“Rose.”
I shake my head, and even though the words taste like ash in my mouth, I say, “Come on. You saved her from the river. She gave you a precious shell from her necklace that is similar to yours. You have to try.”
Dayton grinds his teeth and reaches for his sweet lavender wine. “Is that really what you want?”
Of course not. But I grip his arm hard enough to spill his wine. “We can’t be selfish. I can’t keep you. Summer needs this.”
His teal gaze locks on mine as he drains his drink and tosses the lily pad goblet into the water where it unfurls. He makes no move to leave.
“Fine. If you won’t talk to her, I will.”
Dayton shrugs as if he couldn’t care less.
“Think of your people, Day,” I whisper. “Of your little sister, Delphia. Wrenley might not be your mate, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
Twisting through the party, I make my way to the acolyte. “Pink or blue?”
She turns to me slowly, raising a brow. “Excuse me?”
“Which color is your favorite? Your dress would say both.”
“Oh,” she says, and her full lips curve into a smile. “Black.”
“Black?” I echo.
Wrenley’s smile grows further. “Yes. It is during the darkest night we can most clearly see the light of the Above. The light of our blessed Queen.”
I almost catch an air of sarcasm to her words, but she’s an acolyte. Perhaps it’s a practiced phrase.
“We haven’t been properly introduced.” I hold out my hand. “I’m Rosalina.”
Wrenley looks down at my outstretched palm before delicately shaking it. “You helped with the goblins.”
“As much as I could. I’m glad you’re all right.”
She picks at one of the flowers on her dress. “The Summer Prince’s appearance was truly fate.”