13. Rosalina
13
Rosalina
“W e’re entering the Summer Wing,” Astrid says.
But I didn’t need her to tell me. A warm breeze drifts through my hair, and the air feels thicker. Flowers had lined the halls of the Spring Wing, with patches of grass and moss sprouting from the floor. Here, sand seeps out between the stone tiles, shifting beneath my boots. The walls gradually change to a light sandy clay, set with different colored shells. Blue nets and glass bobbles hang from the ceiling, and the tang of salt and sunshine wafts into my nose.
A castle with the magic of all four fae realms… I didn’t know there was one fae realm yesterday, never mind four of them. I have so many questions about this place.
I can’t help touching a wind chime hanging by a window, bark and seashells strung on twine. They ring delicately against the wood, a cheery sound that tingles down my spine. It’s beautiful.
“Almost there.” Astrid wipes a hand across her brow and sweat drips down her face.
“Are you alright?”
“Oh, yes, fine,” she grumbles. “I just don’t know why he has to keep it so bloody hot. But I’m from Winter, so what do I know?”
I give her a weak smile as she pushes on a heavy wooden door that leads to a narrow passage. Water drips from gray stone walls, and it’s even hotter than in the hall. Muggy, even. It feels like we’re going downward, perhaps beneath the castle itself. After about five minutes, the passage opens into an enormous cavern.
The floor shifts into soft white sand that leads to a turquoise pool. It’s a freaking enchanted grotto. Rock walls create a maze of bubbling pools, and beyond the misty haze, I spot a waterfall.
“Wow,” I gasp, pretty sure my jaw is on the floor. “How is this possible?”
“Castletree,” Astrid says. “The Fae Queen built it. It has the magic of all the fae realms. Within this hallowed castle, she crafted the most beautiful places from each region.”
“The Fae Queen,” I whisper. “Should I be worried about running into her too?”
“Oh no,” Astrid says. “The Fae Queen hasn’t been seen in the Enchanted Vale for five hundred years.”
“How can you rule a land when you haven’t been around for five centuries?”
“Well, she left a Sworn Protector of the Realms and—” Astrid slams her forehead. “I forgot your clean clothes. You get started, and I’ll run up and get them.”
“Get started?”
“Yes, you can bathe. Wait.” She turns to the expanse of the pool and calls out, “Hello! Is anyone there?” Her high-pitched voice echoes off the far rock cavern. “Okay, we’re all clear. You can leave your clothes over there and I’ll wash them.”
Her nose wrinkles and I’m pretty sure she’d rather burn them than wash them. Not my fault I was chased by goblins. But I follow her gaze to shelves built into the stone wall. They’re full of fluffy white towels, jars of different colored gels, and bars of soap.
I can’t help but let out a girlish squeal. I do want to get this goblin blood off my body.
“Use anything you like, and I’ll be back soon with your fresh clothes.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “I can run back with you.”
“No, no. Please. Get clean. I insist.”
A part of me thinks she’s a little grateful she won’t have to melt on this beach while she waits for me to bathe.
Astrid hesitates. “You’re not going to try to run again or anything, right?”
“I’m just going to wash. Promise.” I mean it. No way I’m chancing getting apprehended by the Tin Man on steroids again. And she was right about those goblins. When I make my next escape attempt—which I will—I’m going to be strategic about it.
Astrid gives me a grateful smile as she leaves, and I turn to inspect the stone shelf. There’s a small basket, and I fill it with a bar of soap that smells like cherries and a few mysterious vials of goopy cream. Hopefully one of them is shampoo.
I look around a couple times before I strip off my clothes. Astrid promised I was alone. I peel off my ripped scarf and my once white t-shirt, which is now a more gruesome brown tie-dye. My leggings are torn, and I never want to see these socks again.
I take my basket and pad across the soft sand into the water. It’s fucking glorious. The water is velvety soft, and warmth engulfs me as I let out a long sigh. The basket floats in the water and I drag it along, wading deeper.
Sand gives way to smooth rock. Judging by the color of the water, there are probably some parts where I won’t be able to touch at all.
I paddle my way to the waterfall in the back where I scrub every crevasse of my body with the cherry soap and dunk under the water. It leaves a salty taste on my lips. I massage the gel into my hair. It smells like a tropical cornucopia: pineapples, mangos, and coconuts.
Then I step under the waterfall, which seems to come from the ceiling itself, and let the water pound over me. When my scalp feels thoroughly rattled, I take the opportunity to paddle around the pool. I could stay here forever.
A splash sounds at the entrance of the hot springs. Astrid must have returned. A soft current of water shifts closer.
“Astrid?” I call out.
There’s no reply, and a strange prickle travels down my spine.
“Astrid?”
“I can be Astrid if you want, love,” a smooth, cocky male voice responds.
I let out a peep of alarm and push my basket in front of my chest as someone steps out from behind one of the rocks.
A man.
No, a fae.
A fae man is in the hot springs with me.