54. Rosalina
54
Rosalina
O ne moment the giant wolf and a hoard of goblins are standing across from me and the next, there is nothing but the winter wind and the rush of the river.
That stupid icy bastard. I was going to save him .
I would have sunk to any depth if it meant giving him a chance. It was so strange. In the space of a single breath, sinking beneath the ice went from my biggest fear to nothing. Because I realized my real biggest fear was happening right before me. With every strike the goblins made against Keldarion, with every drop of his blood that spilled upon the ice, I knew no other fear could compare.
I keep cursing his stupid name as I put my thorn crown back on and hobble to the broken ice. I slow as I approach. It’s still coming apart in great chunks. But this isn’t a lake. It’s a river; anything that fell in is being carried downstream where the ice is too thick to break out from.
I don’t have much time.
The moon is bright, and shadows sweep fast beneath the ice. The goblins. Kel.
I take off in a run, ignoring the blinding pain in my leg. I need to get to him. Nothing else matters. The river narrows ahead, and more briars close in around the edge.
Something slams up beneath my feet, a hand flat against the ice—an ashen-faced goblin, eyes wide, bubbles rising out of its nose as it drowns. It sinks as another drifts passed, then another. A swirl of goblin bodies dances below the frozen depths.
Up ahead, the river is dammed with a thick cluster of briars. The bodies have piled up beneath the ice or slammed against the brambles frozen within the water. A kaleidoscope of goblins swirl beneath my feet, desperately pounding at the solid surface.
“Kel!” I scream. “Kel!”
Running from one end to the other, I see nothing but dark, rotten shapes. I slam down to my knees, trying to see deeper. Nothing.
He has to be here.
He has to be.
I fall against the ice, feeling nothing but cold beneath my skin. Why would he do that? Why would he throw himself in?
The river is dammed. He should be here. Tears of rage and sorrow drip from my eyes, yet I can’t accept he’s gone.
He’s not gone.
Something sparks inside me. He is here. I raise my head, feeling my heart stutter. Something tugs in my chest, my whole body shaking like I’ve been electrocuted.
As if I’m being pulled, I jump to my feet. It feels like there’s an arrow exploding from my heart, guiding me. I rush to the edge of the river and crawl beneath a cluster of a low-hanging briars.
Quickly, I swipe away the top layer of frost and see white fur pressed against the ice.
“Kel!” I grab the crown of thorns off my head. It twists in my hands and smoke rises from beneath my palms. The crown changes, lengthening into an enchanting purple sword.
“Creepy but great,” I say and plunge the thorn sword into the frozen river. The ice cracks, a hideous groaning sound. I spring up, taking my sword with me. The hole widens, ice chips floating away. The white wolf’s body rises to the surface, along with a couple bobbing goblins. All dead.
But he’s not. I know he’s not.
I fall to my belly and crawl close to the edge, then I reach out and grip his fur. Fuck, he’s heavy. “Kel,” I cry.
My arm brushes against the biting cold water and I hook my fingers around a tuft. With a grunt, he crashes against the edge. I need to get his face out of the water.
Carefully, I position myself on the rim and sit up. I grip his fur with both hands and pull . He doesn’t even budge. I lose my hold and fall back, cold water splashing over me.
“No, no, no,” I say, crawling back and grabbing his fur. I can do this. I have to. I scream, the muscles in my arms straining, but he doesn’t move any more than before. My grasp loosens on the silky fur and he splashes back down.
I try again, soaking my whole front body in the water, trying to hook around a paw or his middle. He’s not moving. And I’m running out of time.
Desperate feral cries escape me, and I try again only to fall back with momentum, smacking my head hard on the ice. I roll over and, with a hopeless cry, curl into a ball.
I can’t lift him out. He’s too big. I’m just a weak human who doesn’t belong here.
And he’ll die for me.
He’ll die for nothing.
I shake with sobs and the cold feels like it’s slithered into every part of me.
Something soft lands on me, more velvety than snow, and I reach up to brush it off. I blink as it comes into focus. A black rose petal. Another one lands on my arm. The briars above me have bloomed a single beautiful black rose.
The briar patch is a rosebush.
Slowly, I stand up and reach for the rose, and the thorny stems curve toward me.
Just like when they wrapped around my body when I’d fallen off the cliff the first time the goblins attacked.
How they created the ladder down from the dungeon.
And helped me save the enchanted roses in High Tower.
The cage they created for the goblins when I was trying to run away.
What if Caspian isn’t the only one who can control them?
As the briar with the black rose lowers, I reach out and grasp it, feeling a connection shock through me. My consciousness springs out into the web of surrounding briars.
And into the web I pour my anger, my frustration, my desperation, and my love. I will save him.
The branches shudder and begin to move. They reach down into the water, carefully wrapping around the giant wolf and lifting him…
My heart stutters in my chest, and I grip the stem tighter, feeling my connection loosen. Not yet.
The briars lower the white wolf to the side of the river. I gasp out, dropping my hold on the black rosebush. My legs shake. I feel like I’ve been running for a thousand years…
I collapse, vision blurring. But I can’t stop now. Just a little more strength. Slowly, I crawl over the ice. My fingers sift through fresh soft snow on the riverbank.
Almost there…
I touch cold, wet fur. Keldarion shudders beneath me. He shudders .
He’s alive. With great effort, he raises to his paws and coughs up water. His blue eyes peer down at me.
I throw my arms around his neck, finally feeling that insistent tug slacken, having brought me right where I belong.