30. Keldarion
30
Keldarion
S ometimes I wonder why I keep Perth Quellos as vizier of the Winter Realm when listening to his voice is like shoving my brain through melting snow.
I hold my body rigid, legs crossed, leaning on a pillar in the entrance hall. It’s the only room of Castletree Quellos is allowed in. I won’t bring him into the sitting room or the dining hall. And I certainly won’t bring him into the Winter Wing.
He’s lucky he’s even allowed in the castle at all.
“Are you listening to me, Keldarion?” the vizier says, enunciating every syllable. Torchlight shines off his bald head, and his glassy eyes seem to stare straight through me.
No, I’m not listening. My mind keeps reeling back to a week ago. Fucking Caspian. He’s always delighted in torturing me. But to involve Rosalina—
“Keldarion?” Quellos snaps.
“Goblins ravaging the cities. Minor rebellions. Knights deserting from the army. Why do you bother coming when you bring no new tidings?” I bite out.
Quellos holds me in a cold glare. He’s known me since I was a boy. He advised my father. Gods, the man is ancient. Yet, he still hasn’t figured me out, and it drives him insane. “Keldarion. You are Prince of the Winter Realm. Your people need you to come home.”
I touch the snowflake necklace that falls across my chest. My simple white shirt has a wide V, and I wear tight leather pants with dirty boots. I don’t want Quellos to get the idea I’ll dress up for him. “We’ve been over this before. If Castletree falls to the thorns, it’s not just the Winter Realm that’s doomed. It’s everything.”
Quellos licks his blue lips, stained from consumption of tamen, the seeds of a berry that only grows around Frostfang, the capital of the Winter Realm. Tamen is highly commoditized for its ability to maintain alertness and focus—and for being highly addictive. “I understand the thorns are a threat. But perhaps you need outside assistance. If I were to station here to study this phenomenon—”
“You’re needed in the Winter Realm,” I growl.
I should never have started bringing Quellos inside the castle at all. But it was better that than return to my realm, the way the others sporadically do to check on the ruling of their homelands. I haven’t been back since the curse.
I probably won’t ever go back.
He’s getting frustrated with me. Every visit it’s worse. Every visit he gets more insistent I return.
Goblins pouring into the cities… Angry citizens seeking an end to my princedom.
Nothing a beast can do.
With a sigh, I knead the bridge of my nose. “The rule is yours, Quellos. You are both vizier and steward of the Winter Realm. Figure out a solution to these problems.”
A tick twitches in Quellos’s jaw. “I am not Prince of the Winter Realm. I hold none of the ancient magic. And only you can wield the Queen’s sword.”
“And I must stop the thorns—”
“But you’re not stopping them!” Quellos roars. He’s never spoken to me like that.
And if anyone else did, they would have their throat in my jaws right now.
Breath comes ragged from the vizier’s throat, and he gestures to the clumps of purple thorns breaking through the cracks in the stone. “Look around, Keldarion. Every time I visit, it’s worse. Castletree’s magic is fading. Your magic is fading. Either do your job,” he takes a deep breath, “or pass the rule onto someone who will.”
Shame floods through me. Shame and anger and betrayal. Quellos already knows so many of my evils. If he knew about the curse too… No, he must never know.
I turn his words against him. Straightening to my full height, I tilt my head to take in the vizier. “So, you’ve finally gotten the balls to ask for the throne.”
Quellos puts both his hands into his wide sleeves. “Some people are meant to rule, my Prince. Others are not.” He stands and walks over to the large door that exits the castle. “And every day you spend figuring out which one you are, the more your people suffer.”
“I’m the only one who can stop the Prince of Thorns,” I growl.
Quellos gives me a half-lidded gaze. “Or is he the only one who can stop you?”
The word comes out a rabid snarl: “Leave.”
“I’m on my way out,” he says calmly. “Oh, is this a new servant?”
Rosalina stands at the bottom of the stairs, a tray of cookies and tea in her hands. She yelps when she catches my eye and nearly drops the tray. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s just, I heard voices, and I had too much food to myself, and I thought Kel might want some. Keldarion, I mean. Prince of Winter. Winter Prince. Um, I’m going to go—” She turns on her heel.
“Wait,” Quellos says. “A human, are you?”
“Yes,” she squeaks. “I’m Rosalina O’Connell.”
“Interesting. I never knew you to take humans into your service, Keldarion,” Quellos muses.
Ice crackles beneath my boots and I step between them. “You were on your way out.”
“Yes. Yes, I was,” Quellos says. “Good meeting you, Rosalina. Perhaps we’ll see one another in the future.” He pulls open the door.
A blast of cold air hits me. Not the cold like my chambers, where his briars have affected everything, even my own magic. No, this wind carries the smells of wood smoke and roasted chestnuts. A hint of pine and spruce from Buttercup Forest mingles with the earthy smell of the snow-covered ground. The sharp bite of an icy chill lingers in the air after the door slams shut behind him.
It smells like home.
“What the heck? Where did he go?” Rosalina chirps. “That did not look like the Briar out there.”
“Do you know that was a private political meeting you were eavesdropping on?”
“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” Her face flushes an exquisite pink. “I was trying to be friendly and bring you a cookie.”
My boots thud heavy on the ice that forms with each step as I close the distance between us. She holds my gaze. I stop right before her, her tray the only thing between us.
I’m reminded of what she looked like when I pinned her against the castle walls. Small and frightened, a deer mouse to my wolf. Had she known? Known she was safer with me, her captor, than that monster of thorns? The thought of his hands caressing her pale skin—
“Keldarion,” she whispers, “why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?”
Slowly, I reach down to her tray, grab a cookie, and bite it. “Thank you, Rosalina.”
She releases what seems like a long-held breath. “So…”
“So?”
“Are you going to explain where that creepy blue-lipped man went?”
A smile catches at the corner of my mouth. “That blue-lipped man was my royal vizier, and he was going home to the Winter Realm.”
“You have to show me how that works,” she says.
I suppose it couldn’t hurt to explain, figuring I don’t want her to accidentally end up somewhere she shouldn’t be. “Why don’t you tell me what you think?”
She raises a dark brow and sets her tray down on the side table beside a dusty old clock and a candelabra. She hunches over, her fingers running along the door frame. Her chestnut hair cascades down her body like a waterfall, framing the curves of her bosom. Marigold has her in high-waisted pants today, and they cling tightly to her long, full legs. I take in a steadying breath as another image fills my mind.
The nerve of Caspian to send that fae, to compare her even slightly to Rosalina. He’s taunting me. And there’s nothing I can do about it, not without him getting more suspicious.
I turn away. Thoughts of him only cause my heart to rage. This moment is for Rosalina. I’ll give her another minute to figure out the door before I show her its secrets.
The nostalgic scent of nutmeg, cinnamon, and ripe apples fills the entrance hall. Golden leaves float around Rosalina. I’m at her within the moment, yanking her hard against my body. I catch the glimpse of a dirt path and overgrown autumn trees before I slam the door.
“How did you open that?” I snarl, whirling her around to face me.
“The door handle,” she says, then pushes against my chest to free herself. I let her go.
Rosalina gestures to the door. “I pushed in the handle and this little dial appeared. It had a snowflake on it. Then I moved it. I saw a rose, a tulip, a shell, and I stopped on this leaf. And it opened to…” She spins to me, eyes wide with excitement. “Was that the Autumn Realm? How is that possible?”
“The Fae Queen built this castle to be accessible from every realm. The castle physically dwells within the Briar, but it magically appears in all four realms,” I explain, looking down at the intricate rose-plated dial above the door handle. It’s usually hidden. She shouldn’t have been able to realize the magic just like that. “The door opens outside of the castle in each realm, but the castle exteriors are mere shells. There is only one interior to Castletree.”
“They all lead here, to the Briar,” she muses.
“Indeed. Although, each realm has its own royal keep, where the family of the High Ruler typically resides.”
“Family,” Rosalina echoes, and I hear the pain in her voice. Now she’s thinking of her father, the trespasser. “Is your family—”
“My father was a better High Prince than I could ever dream to be, and my mother a gracious and charitable ruler.”
“Kel,” she whispers. “Where are your parents now?”
“Victims of the Below,” I growl.
“I’m so sorry—”
I cut her off and place my palm on the door. A magic current still runs through it. “Before the curse, staff and visitors could freely pass into Castletree. But we’ve disallowed the use of these entrances. The only one permitted in this manner is Perth Quellos, my vizier.”
She studies me for a long moment, then crosses to the mirror that hangs beside the door. “And this?”
“Do you ever stop with the questions?”
She flashes a smile that stutters my heart. “You live in an enchanted castle. There’s lots to be curious about.”
“The mirror is another relic of the Fae Queen. It can only be used by the princes.”
“To go wherever you please,” she says.
I raise a brow. “Good guess.”
She runs a finger along the elegant gold border. The mirror ripples like waves over water.
“As the thorns continue to suck the life from Castletree, the mirror’s magic fades as well,” I say lowly.
Rosalina drops her hand and turns to face me.
“And the rose symbol on the dial…” Her voice holds a strangely whimsical tone. “There was something about that emblem. If I could see it again—”
I yank her arm, pulling her closer to me. She stares up, confused for a moment at my action, waiting for me to speak.
“I don’t want to test the magic any more today.”
She gives a slow nod of understanding but doesn’t back away from me. In fact, she takes a step closer. “Kel, is it true you haven’t been back to the Winter Realm since the curse?”
“It is.”
Her smile gleams like a first snowfall. “Well, all my snooping has given me a wonderful idea for how to break the curse.”
Before I can say anything else, she waltzes away.
I sigh. Let her have hope. The way Farron has hope. The way Dayton and Ezryn cling to their shreds of it.
But I know the truth.
For me, there will never be a way to break this curse.