Chapter 86
CHAPTER 86
Keldarion
G eorge lets out a heart’s cry.
I stagger up, barely able to see clearly through my blurred vision.
Did I believe we’d truly find her? I was willing to take George into the unknown, willing to risk my own life, but that was because I knew he would never stop until we’d searched every corner of the Vale. Had I actually thought we’d find Aurelia here?
Not Aurelia, not to George.
This is his Anya.
He nearly falls over his own feet as he runs toward the glowing green cage. “Anya,” he sobs.
She appears just as any other fae woman, her back against the glowing wall. Her features haven’t changed much from George’s memory, but she’s more beleaguered. I wonder if in the sunlight, her hair would still have the slight hint of red as it did when she sailed down the river near the stone triangles.
Though Anya appeared as a human to George, she now looks fae. But I know better. The Queen is the closest thing to godhood the Vale has ever seen. She created our homes, our way of life. She saved the last pieces of the Gardens of Ithilias.
She bore the Golden Rose.
I want to fall back to my knees before her, to prick my hands and make vows in blood. I want to beg for her forgiveness and to tell her I understand now why she cursed me.
I never once believed in any of the centuries of my life that I would have this opportunity. But George has been waiting every second of his.
Keldarion, the cursed High Prince, can wait and so too can Kel, Rosalina’s mate. My thoughts immediately turn to patrol, to guarding the single way in and out and observing for traps.
For this moment, I am here for George.
He stumbles forward, jaw trembling as if he’s forgotten any word except her name. “Anya … my Anya.”
The Queen slowly raises her head from her chest. Her shoulders are hunched forward, dirty feet splayed before her. She wears a white dress that seems clean enough, but dark circles rim her eyes.
“Anya!” George’s voice cracks, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Anya blinks at him. Her eyes seem faded, faraway. A soft smile graces her chapped lips. “Hello, darling.”
Her name claws out of his throat again, and George collapses to the ground before the translucent wall. He pounds on it with his fist, tries to tear it down. But we’re too early. Farron and Caspian haven’t destroyed the crystals yet.
Thank the seven realms , I think. If we had been too late, Sira would have imprisoned her some other way.
Anya’s face hardens as she looks at George. She blinks once. Twice. Then looks around, as if expecting to see someone else.
Who? Sira? Does she assume this is all a trick?
“Anya?” George says quietly.
“Get it away from me,” Anya snarls, voice harsh. “What is this?”
“It’s me, Annie. I’ve come for you,” George says.
“No, no, no.” Anya covers her ears and collapses in on herself. “Get it away from me!”
I take in a shaky breath. She’s been here for twenty-five years. Who knows what sort of things Sira’s done to her in that time?
“Show her who you are, George,” I call to him.
George’s eyes widen. Despite the wrinkles on his face and his graying hair, there’s a boyish fear about him now. “How?”
I tap my heart. “You know how.”
George looks down, hands scratching at the wall. At first, I think he’s going to stay there forever, the two of them so close, and yet so far away.
Then his voice rings out, low and quivering: “I will love you across the ages.”
Anya looks up.
“I will love you in the desert, under a blazing sun, or in the deepest depths of the jungle. I will love you when the rain pours down and we’re covered in mud, or when the night is so dark, the only light beams from your heart. No time nor distance nor magic can break my love for you.”
A beat of silence echoes in the chamber before a guttural sob tears from her lips. “George!” She crawls forward, pressing her hand to his through the wall.
They stare at each other, their hands seeming to connect despite the barrier. Shock and love play across their features. My own heart swells, and I can’t help but walk closer. If only Rosalina could witness this.
I imprint the image in my mind, taking note of every detail: the tremble of George’s hands pressed to Anya’s, the burst of color returning to her ashen face. The weight of their love rushes against me, and I understand now why it is so easy for Rosalina to love.
“What are you doing here?” Anya breathes.
A smile breaks across George’s face. “We’re here to rescue you.”
Anya’s body stills. She scrambles away from George. “No. No, no, you can’t rescue me.”
I take one last look at the entrance of the chamber then walk up behind George. For the first time, Anya seems to register me. “You?” she whispers.
I kneel down and bow my head. “My Queen.”
She points at George. “Get him out of here. Now.”
“We have a plan. My name is Keldarion, son of Erivor and—”
“And Runa, yes, yes. I know who you are, High Prince.” A look of horror crosses her face. “Your curse is not broken.”
“Well, you can fix that when we get you out,” I grunt.
“Oh, no, no, no.” Anya tugs at her hair. Her wild gaze falls to me. “Why are you trying to save me after what I did to you?”
“Because I am madly in love with your daughter, and she needs her mother.”
A look of utter anguish cuts across her face.
“We have a plan,” George assures. “Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.”
I try to keep my voice as steady as possible. “Farron, the High Prince of Autumn, and Caspian, the Prince of the Below, are working together to break your bonds—”
She lurches forward, hands reaching for me. They smack against the barrier. “Cas has decided to turn against Sira?”
Cas? “For today.”
She blinks her eyes and smiles, giving a small laugh that reminds me of Rosalina. “I can’t believe it.”
“Your daughter can make the impossible happen,” I say. “And that’s what we’re going to do. We’re getting you out of here, my Queen.”
George seems unable to say anything more. He just stares at her with stars in his eyes, a look of complete contentment on his face.
A single tear runs down Anya’s cheek. “Oh, my George.” Then she turns to me. “You are my daughter’s mate. You know this.”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“Then, you will do anything for her. Is that correct?”
“Of course,” I growl.
She stands, exuding all the grace and majesty of her title despite her prison garb. “Then you will take my husband and leave this place at once.”
“No, Anya!” George stands. “This cage will be destroyed any minute. We’ll escape together—”
“No, we will not,” she says harshly. Then she sighs, and her whole body softens. “I can’t leave here. If I do … Rosalina will take my place.”