44. Ezryn
44
Ezryn
I t’s like a dream.
I sit on a throne in the grand ballroom of the Winter Realm, a place I haven’t been in over twenty-five years. We’re surrounded by people dancing, eating, flirting, merrymaking. Sunlight gleams off huge ice sculptures of swans and polar bears. Every time I turn my head, some courtier vies for my attention.
Yes, it’s like a dream. A fucking nightmare.
“Gods, Ezryn, do you have a metal rod up your ass too? Relax,” Dayton croons, leaning forward to look at me from his throne. Easy for him to say. Relaxing is all he does. “I know you’re more comfortable with goblins and beasts than fae, but at least put some effort in. Our girl pulled this off.”
Our girl .
She’s not my anything. She’s not even my prisoner. She’s a passing houseguest who has beguiled Farron, charmed Dayton, and… done something to Keldarion. I’m the only one with enough wits to know I should keep my distance.
Admittedly, I’m impressed by what Rosalina has accomplished in the few months she’s been at the castle. Not only unearthing new understanding of the mating bond through her research, but also initiating an event in the Winter Realm—a place that badly needs some joy. It’s beyond impressive. And even more than those combined… She convinced Keldarion to attend.
I hadn’t been able to convince Keldarion to take a damn bath in twenty years.
But she’s not mine .
“She’s quite stubborn once she sets her mind to something,” I say begrudgingly to Dayton.
“You’ve got that right.” He adjusts the collar of the long, turquoise tunic he wears. It goes over one shoulder, revealing half of his bare chest, in the traditional style of the Summer Realm. He looks more put together than I’ve seen him in decades.
I suppose the same could be said for me. As is the way for royalty in the Spring Realm, I keep my face hidden behind my helm. But I’ve exchanged my usual armor—scratched and filthy as it is—for something lighter and more ceremonial. Metal plates of darkest green line a black tunic of fine fabric; I wear pants of the same, with only metal tassets for protection. It’s still far more practical than anything the other three are wearing, but I feel exposed. On display.
I can’t believe I’m at a party. Something I never thought I would see again. Not that I was in any hurry to be surrounded by these people: they hover around us like flies above a carcass. The princes rarely make an appearance anymore; we’re a commodity for gossip and speculation. And being in the Winter Realm, Keldarion bears the brunt of it.
Thankfully, the Winter Realm’s vizier, Perth Quellos, has staved off the hungry horde for now by positioning us in four thrones on a dais at the front of the ballroom, bordered by guards. Keldarion’s throne is grandest, of course, not only because we’re in his realm, but because Winter was chosen as the Sworn Protector by the Queen hundreds of years ago.
Does anyone else notice Keldarion isn’t wielding the sword?
Even through the tinted visor of my helm, the glint of ice is everywhere. Icicles hang from tables full of snow yams and roasted chestnuts; Kel’s royal ass rests on a frozen throne; and ice frosts the windows letting in the brilliant sunlight. Although I’m sure many of the guests wonder why a grand ball is being held in the middle of the day, none of them question us. That’s one surprise they’re not prepared for.
A grand staircase with a brilliant sapphire carpet lays at the end of the ballroom, where guests are introduced. All the most lovely and eligible fae of the Winter Realm are here. There’s an excited fever in the air, but something else as well. I can see it in the eyes of the courtiers, of the guards, of the merchants in attendance. They’re looking at Keldarion not with hope in their eyes, but accusation: Why have you left us? When are you coming back? Don’t you know we’re struggling?
Though his face is as stoic as ever, I know Keldarion’s one well-intentioned comment away from ripping off his fae flesh and running out of here, teeth and fangs bared.
Thank the stars this madcap idea of Rosalina’s is beginning in another realm. I can’t imagine being surrounded by my own citizens. Having them stare at me with that same questioning gaze. Having my brother’s eyes on my every movement. Seeing Father barely able to lift himself from the throne to give it back to me.
Perhaps it will all be worth it. Perhaps one of these lovely diamonds, twirling before me with their long looks and hungry expressions, will be my mate. We will seal the mating bond and the nightmare I’ve been trapped in for twenty-five years will be over.
I nearly bark a laugh. There are no fairytale endings for monsters.
“Introducing Lady Ingrid Whitley of Westfrost!” the herald cries as yet another fae woman strides down the stairs. I barely glance at her.
“Introducing Sir Kristoff Dederic of Silverwick!”
“Introducing Lady Gretchen Foxglove of Annestron!”
Farron, sitting on the throne between Kel and Dayton, sits forward and looks at each of us. “Anyone feel anything yet?”
“Nothing but the ache for a strong drink,” Dayton says, barely glancing at the fae making their way down the staircase. They’re some of the most beautiful and stately in the entire Winter Realm.
I feel nothing.
My locket sits heavy on my chest, hidden by my tunic, and I unconsciously place a hand over it. It’s usually safely beneath my armor. It’s a small wooden square engraved with Spring’s ancient runes. Opening it would allow me freedom from this place, my way home through the mirror.
“We have to keep trying,” Farron says. “For Rosie.”
Keldarion stays as statuesque as ever.
A strange, melancholy feeling falls over me as I stare at the three princes. I was mere acquaintances with Dayton and Farron before the curse, but after twenty-five years sharing the same suffering, we now have a brotherhood unlike any that could be borne by blood.
Keldarion’s parents had been dear to my own, and so I’d grown up with him. I’d thought our friendship transcended brotherhood. We were comrades-in-arms, confidants. Even after the War of Thorns, when he’d been betrayed by the one he loved the most and everyone abandoned him, I stayed.
Then the Enchantress laid us with the curse.
And no amount of friendship could stop the ice from covering Keldarion’s heart.
“Introducing Lady Aurelia Mastiff of the Balsam Wood!”
“How many more introductions must we suffer through?” Dayton sighs. I notice, like myself, my brothers have taken no interest in the parade of fae men and women.
My legs bounce up and down. I’m not used to sitting for so long, let alone being stared at like a piece of meat for the carving. Despite the Winter Realm’s rebellions, the growing number of goblin attacks in all realms, or the fading Castletree, there’s obviously one thing that’s more important: the fact that all four fae princes are sitting right here, and they’re all eligible.
“I need a break,” I say and stand. “There’s no point to even being here—”
“Introducing Lady Rosalina O’Connell of Orca Cove!”
A vision shimmers down the stairs: a long navy dress of rich velvet adorned with sparkling gems. The long sleeves are trimmed with blue lace, and the bodice cuts low over her full chest. An incredible tangle of diamonds collar her neck, and I can’t imagine what sins Marigold pulled to apprehend this outfit. Her dark hair falls in gentle waves over one shoulder, and her face is done up with paint: dark lips and sparkling blue shadow around her light brown eyes.
A strange flutter shudders through my chest, and I feel the urge to shelter behind my throne. She’s heading toward us, a bright smile on her face. Her eyes dart from one side of the thrones to the other, from Kel in his royal blue regalia, a crown of ice and bone upon his head; to Farron with gold dust shimmering on his cheeks; to Dayton with his legs spread wide and hands on his knees; to…
Is she looking at me?
Is that soft smile for me?
I need to sit. The rest of them are sitting. I step back, but stumble over my own boots, catching my armored heel on the edge of the throne. I fall, reaching for nothing, and land with a clatter on my ass.
“Ezryn!” she cries.
As quick as I fell, I right myself, straightening my helmet and trying to lean against the throne as if I’d meant to do that all along.
“Are you alright?” Rosalina asks, picking up her skirts and surging toward us. Immediately, two guards step into her path.
“Let her through,” Keldarion’s voice booms.
The guards hesitate for a moment, then step out of her way. Rosalina gives them a little satisfied smirk and the most pathetic curtsey I’ve ever seen before walking up to us. The others stand to greet her.
“Wow,” she says. “You four look amazing.”
We look at each other and it’s as if we’re thinking the same thing: It’s you who looks amazing.
Of course, Dayton is the one who steps forward, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her toward him. “And you look positively ravishing. A Winter queen in the flesh. Don’t you think, Kel?”
Kel hasn’t blinked since Rosalina first appeared at the top of the steps. His ice-blue eyes are wide, and his nostrils flare as he inhales deeply.
“You’re beautiful, Rosalina,” Farron says, and she smiles warmly at him. Her warmest smiles are always saved for Farron. And why not? His wolf may be the most monstrous of us four, but there’s no doubt his heart is the purest. If only one of us could break this damned curse, he’s the one I’d hope for above all else. The one who most deserves a second chance.
“Your realm is absolutely stunning,” she says to Keldarion. “I feel like I’m in some sort of winter wonderland. Like Kris Kringle’s going to come around the corner at any second.”
Kel surges forward and snatches her forearm. “Who is this Kris Kringle you speak of?”
Farron clears his throat. “It’s a legend from the human realm, Kel. A mysterious entity who watches children while they sleep and breaks into people’s homes at night.”
“Oh. A legend.” Kel steps back. “Do not fret, Rosalina. There are no evil beings here.”
Rosalina looks between Farron and Kel and then doubles over laughing. “Oh my god. You guys can never visit the human realm in December. You’d beat up the mall Santa!”
Again, the four of us exchange confused looks. Rosalina catches her breath and wipes a tear from her eye. She puts a hand on Kel’s shoulder. “You are too funny.”
I swear I see Kel’s soul shoot out of his body. And now it’s our turn to laugh.
“What?” she cries.
“I think that’s the first time anyone has ever referred to Kel as funny,” Dayton wheezes.
“Unless you count his hair,” I say dryly.
And now we’re all laughing again. Even Kel gives a traitor’s smile.
But out of the corner of my visor, I catch the crowd. Young fae gather together, whispering behind their hands. They’re all staring at… Rosalina.
But of course, they are. A human woman dressed as a fae. Allowed entry to the royal dais to greet the four most powerful males in the Enchanted Vale. They see us talking with her, laughing with her, touching her…
I could train my senses to listen to them, but I don’t want to know what they’re saying. Our business with Rosalina is none of theirs.
As I’m turning my attention from the crowd, one gaze gives me pause. Perth Quellos, the vizier, stands in a sunbeam beneath a window, a white-knuckle grip on his glass. The way he’s looking between Keldarion and Rosalina sends the wolf inside me snarling. There’s always been something about Quellos that makes me uneasy… But Keldarion trusts him.
But I trust myself more.
“Sooo, how’s the plan going?” Rosalina gives an exaggerated wink and tears me from my thoughts. “Any stirring of special feelings?”
“Just a little indigestion.” Dayton shrugs.
Rosalina furrows her brow and taps her foot on the floor. “I’ve been watching you from outside the doors most of the party. You four have been sheltered up here like a gaggle of old maids. You have to get out there and touch people.” She clears her throat. “In a totally consensual, non-creepy way. Find someone and dance!”
Dayton gives a roguish grin and shrugs. “Aye aye, boss.” He drifts over to the nearest cluster of women and immediately has them in a giggling fit. In a smooth movement, he grabs one’s hand and twirls her onto the dance floor.
Rosalina claps her hands. “Okay, you’re next!” She grabs Farron’s shoulder.
“I think I need another drink first. Or actually, I need to use the little fae’s room—” he squeaks, but he’s no match for her. She shoves him into the fray, and he’s immediately swept up by a chesty older woman.
“Ezryn?” She smiles up at me.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I murmur, my voice reverberating through the helm. Another reason to thank the stars for this damned metal thing: I’d rather fight a thousand goblins than face this dance floor.
Mercifully, the crowd picks up that the princes are dancing, and a fae woman immediately pushes herself into my vicinity, saving me the embarrassment of having to find my own partner. I barely register her before I take her hand.
No sparks. No starlight.
Just the incessant pull toward the dais. I look back to see Kel and Rosalina doing as they always do—arguing. Of course, he’s refusing to even try.
I swirl my dance partner around.
“It’s a wonder to see you here, Prince Ezryn,” she mumbles. She might be beautiful. Or perhaps she’s hideous. I barely comprehend her. “Word has it you haven’t been spotted in the Spring Realm in quite some time.”
I grunt a response and turn her so I have a clear view of the dais.
I blink and run a hand over my visor in case my vision deceives me. No.
Kel has chosen a dance partner.
He walks past me, arm held aloft, clutching Rosalina’s hand.
It’s as if the entire ballroom takes a collective breath.
“What in the realms is Prince Keldarion doing with that human?” my partner sneers.
Kel sweeps Rosalina in his arms and the music slows, a passionate lilt filling the air. A small smile creeps over my lips. Inside, my chest eases for the first time all night.
“He’s dancing,” I murmur, “with our girl.”