Dayton’s chest is smeared with blood. Ez and Kel fight side by side, holding the monster back, trying to rescue Farron and Caspian. And Kairyn has not risen since Caspian struck him.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I clutch my fingers into the soft earth. Where is my power? The power of the golden roses? It saved us against Lucas, it saved Dayton in Castletree, and it can save us now.
It would be great if I knew how to summon it. Every time, it’s felt like exploding from within. The cries of the princes and horrible sounds of the monster fade away as I dig deeper and deeper and deeper. I grit my teeth, ignoring the call to the thorns on my wrist. There is another power within me. One that allows me to make briars of my own. To make the golden roses. If I keep reaching…
Darkness engulfs the grove, then the entire world. A darkness so immense it blocks out the stars and the light of the moon. It spirals inward, condensing into the shape of a woman.
Long, black hair drips down her back like spilled ink, and she wears a dress of night, tipped with spiked metal shoulder plates. Her beauty is like a moonlit graveyard, unsettling in its etherealness. There’s no color on her pale cheeks, though jewels crest all the way up her long, pointed ears. Upon her head lies a dark crown with seven spikes.
My blood turns to ice and I go completely still, afraid to even breathe. She doesn’t look my way. Instead, she walks toward the monster. Ez, Kel, and Day have all stilled their attacks, stepping backward. I see, in the careful movements, they’re trying to make their way toward me.
“Sira,” Dayton mouths.
Sira.
So, this is the Queen of the Below.
She tilts her head, regarding the situation with a look of benevolence. And when her gaze passes over me, I feel very much how a little mouse must feel when the shadow of a great owl flies above.
“Honestly, Caspian,” she says, voice dripping with disappointment, “how embarrassing this must be for you, my darling baby boy.”
Fear flashes on his face, more vibrant than when he’d stared at the monster. It’s gone in a moment, replaced with a stony expression hidden by black-rimmed lips and eyes.
The rat monster lunges for her, but she sticks her arm into its mouth, as casually as one might slip a hand beneath an ocean wave.
The creature stills instantly, then convulses. Farron and Caspian wave back and forth in its tail.
Keldarion grabs me tight around the waist, his necklace in his hand. “The moment we get Farron, we retreat to Castletree.”
Dayton has moved to the creature’s other side, close to Farron, and I see Ezryn make his way toward his brother.
Sira’s attention is only on the monster, but I have no doubt she knows exactly where each of us is. The plants forming the creature’s legs ripple before disintegrating into black rot. Darkness sweeps the rest of its body in an instant, and the entire frame of the monster dissolves into a shadowy puddle.
Caspian and Farron fall to the ground. Sira shakes her arm, covered to the forearm in rot, and waves her other hand. A trail of shadows wraps around her arm before dissipating, leaving her skin clear.
She grimaces at Caspian, who sits up, gasping for air. “Take us to the Tower of Nether Reach.” Her gaze lands on me. “The High Princes and their lady, too.”
Dayton lunges for Farron. Kel tilts the mirror of his necklace, catching the moonlight, an iridescent glimmer before he shoves me forward.
But he’s not faster than the thorns. They wrap around my legs, covering my body, and drag us under. With the last of my freedom, I urge one of my briars to wrap around Kel’s sword and hurl it into the lake.
Then we are swept into darkness.
Down to the Below.
Part Four
Everlasting Vow
58
Rosalina
We’re in the Below. I know it in the way I know my own name or that the sky is blue.
But this sky is not blue. There’s nothing above us but a gray, murky mist. A tight coil of thorns wraps around my body, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping me upright. Kel, Ezryn, Day, and Farron are all bound as well, and we form a circle around … Caspian.
The Prince of Thorns kneels, heaving up black rot. Standing above him is her. Sira. Queen of the Below.
My thoughts turn to Kairyn, left alone at the lake. He saved Ezryn. But there’s no one who can save us down here.
Breath rattles in my chest as I struggle to get my bearings. A circular platform extends around us, surrounded by seven spiked pillars. As I peer down, I realize how high we are, surrounded by a land of darkness and shadow. In the distance, a lavender glow flickers like a distant candle, casting an eerie light upon the grim landscape. Cryptgarden, perhaps. I remember walking through the city on Caspian’s birthday, looking up at the tower on which we now stand.
The Tower of Nether Reach.
“No,” Farron whispers, eyes wide and shining. “My magic … I can’t reach it down here.”
“We’re too far from Castletree,” Dayton mumbles. “It’s too weak.”
I feel for my own magic. It’s distant, like an echo of what once was. But the thorns imprisoning us … They feel vibrant, close. I can still use them, I know it.
Taking a steadying breath, I hone in on my control of the thorns, making sure I can grasp the ones around me. It takes me a bit longer to connect with the briars snaring my princes, but once I take control, perhaps I can get us home.
“So careless.” Sira walks around Caspian, though it would be more accurate to say glides, as if she does not need to step at all. “What were you thinking, releasing that thing?”
Caspian sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “The High Princes took out the Dreadknights and goblins. I was desperate.”
“Risking your sister’s forces instead of your own.” Sira tsks. “I cannot decide if you are idiotic or brilliant.”
“Oh, Mother.” Caspian stands. The fluidity to his movements has returned. “You know, I always have a plan.”
Mother? The Queen of the Below … She’s Caspian’s mother. She raised him. He truly is born of darkness.
“And you can help with your sister’s plan. Take their tokens,” Sira says.
“As you wish, Mother,” Caspian says lowly. He walks over to the princes one by one, ripping off their necklaces. The snowflake from Kel, the wooden rectangle from Ezryn, the golden leaf from Farron, chains snapping.
“W-wait,” Dayton begs as Caspian stands in front of him. “It’s just one of the shells. Don’t rip the whole thing. They’re important—”
“For stars’ sake,” Caspian grumbles, tapping his foot impatiently, but releases Dayton’s hands from the thorns long enough for the Summer Prince to carefully untie his necklace and remove only the shell that is the token of the Queen.
“And her? What does she bear?” Sira asks, taking a step toward me. “Such a troubling little flower.”