14. Ezryn
Ezryn
“I’ve told you ten times now, Tilla. I don’t know how to fix an airship. If you need repairs, you’re going to have to ask Kairyn.”
Tilla levels me with a glare. At least I’m pretty sure it’s a glare. I know her well enough to sense the fury radiating from beneath her dark gray helm. As steward of Spring, she cannot take it off in front of anyone but her family.
We stand in the small storage room turned sleeping quarters at the back of Draconhold Forge.
This has been my, Kairyn’s, and George’s home for the last four weeks since we left the Winter Realm.
Our makeshift mattresses are filled with itchy straw, and the heat of the nearby hearths makes for sweltering days, but it’s not such a bad setup.
At night, when all the smiths have gone home, we creep out to work.
Draconhold is the only forge in all the seasonal realms with strong enough equipment for our needs.
Tilla’s the one person in Spring who knows we’re here.
Given her role as steward, she deserved to know everything that had transpired—the rose, the underfae, our new missions.
She visits often to keep me abreast of the efforts to rally Spring’s forces, but she’s not thrilled about my decision to stay hidden in Draconhold while we continue our work.
I understand, but this is what’s best for all the realms now.
George, Kairyn, and I stay out of sight during the day. At night, we creep out to visit the communal kitchen, where we find jugs of water, flatbread, and—if we’re lucky—half-filled carafes of coffee. Then, by moonlight, we work on rebuilding the rose.
The rose that Sira stole from the Gardens of Ithilias. The rose she used to create and control her monsters. The rose that, once rebuilt, we can use to bind their wills to our own. Then, even from afar, we can help Rosalina.
Rosalina. The mere feel of her name in my mind is enough to quicken my heart. What is she doing now? Is she safe? Hurt?
I squeeze my eyes shut, thankful Tilla cannot see the play of emotions beneath my helm. Rosalina held fast to her courage, and so must we.
“Are you listening to me, Ezryn?” Tilla snaps, and I realize I haven’t been. “I’d rather throw myself into the heat of a forge and let my armor melt around me than ask Kairyn—”
“Ask me what?”
My little brother walks in and leans against the doorframe. His giant form fills all the space, and the horns that jut from his brow are so large, they nearly skim the ceiling. He takes a bite of a mango with his sharp canines and flicks his bloodred gaze from Tilla to me.
His massive size, I’m used to. He was always taller and broader than me anyway. Even the horns, I’ve become accustomed to. But his eyes…
Though they swirl like the coals in a hearth, they’re softer than I expect. So much gentler to look at than the dark void of the helm he previously wore.
At Kairyn’s presence, Tilla leaps back and points her morning star at him.
“Are we still doing this?” he sighs and ambles to his too-small straw mattress before collapsing on it. “You are aware I’m currently unarmed?”
In fact, he hasn’t touched his weapon since we reached Draconhold. Our mother’s sword, the one he wielded to protect me in Frostfang, rests untouched in the corner of the room.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’d love to cave my chest plate in with those horns,” Tilla retorts.
Kairyn doesn’t respond; he rolls over and faces the wall.
I may be getting used to Kairyn’s appearance, but I know he’s not. Every time he catches his horns on a doorframe or accidentally knocks something over with his skin-colored tail, a great silence overcomes him. Not sadness or rage.
Shame.
I can’t blame Tilla for holding a grudge. Kairyn did take over our city, imprison her and all the other refugees fleeing Florendel, and force her to fight in his twisted games.
After Keldarion called down the stars and stopped the volcanic eruption from destroying all of Winter, it was long days before I left Frostfang.
During that time, I deliberated what to do with Kairyn.
Leave him to rot in Keep Wolfhelm’s prison?
Even I cannot say his acts are not deserving of such a sentence.
But Spring’s past has been filled with blood and pain and vengeance in the name of justice. If I don’t end it, then who?
So we began letting him have supervised time out of his cell.
He ended up following either me or Marigold around like a lost duckling.
It was George who took him under his wing, asking him to assist in the lab.
“He’s knowledgeable on these ancient metals and as skilled a blacksmith as I could ask for,” George told me.
“Besides, I hear he means a lot to my daughter. So he means a lot to me.”
George’s youngest daughter. The one who consumes Kairyn’s thoughts every time we sneak out of the forge to get some fresh air and he hears a bird call.
His mate, Wrenley.
I turn to look at my brother. Since being turned into an underfae, he has not donned a helm, nor does he wear any armor. Now, he wears only ragged trousers and a skintight, white undershirt streaked with oil and dirt. He must have been assisting George at the hearth.
When it was decided that George and I would travel to Florendel to complete the forging of the rose, it was he who suggested Kairyn accompany us. “I need an assistant. And he needs a friend.”
The O’Connells and their relentless compassion.
George, as he tends to be, was right about Kairyn’s skills.
With his years of research at Queen’s Reach Monastery and a near obsession with the ancient world, Kairyn has an array of knowledge about mythkarite, an ore that comes from the Above, responsible for the creation of the divine weapons.
It is like magic turned stone. When Kel created the star shower, he called down an entire boulder laced with the stuff.
We extracted the rare ore and brought it here, but even the fires of Draconhold were not hot enough to melt the raw mythkarite.
I suppose we should thank Faustrius, the zealot leading the underfae.
If he hadn’t poisoned Mount Rhuvenmark with fire from the hearth of the Above, the volcano would never have erupted.
And the lava would never have landed on the boulder, creating a perfect pool of liquid mythkarite.
Not a lot, but just enough for us to repair the rose.
Thoughts of Faustrius and his underfae have me peering out the door into the smithy. George sits at a workbench, hunched over, sweat dripping down his brow as he works. The steel container of mythkarite and the shards of the rose lie before him. It’s almost complete now.
I breathe a sigh of relief, seeing him at ease in his work. Given the attempt on his life, I’m nervous to let him out of my sight.
Tilla lets loose an angry exhale, the reverberation of the helm making her sound like an angry bull.
I turn back to her, refocusing my attention.
Right. She’d come tonight to tell me of an engine issue with one of the ships in the air fleet.
Spring has requisitioned the ships once used by the Green Rule.
“Look, Tilla, I don’t know what else to tell you. Kairyn’s the one who oversaw the creation of all the airships. He could help—”
“I will never accept help from that traitor,” she snarls, then faces Kairyn. I can practically see lightning bolts surging out of her glare into his back. “You’ve always been a shit, and you’ll always be a shit.”
“Be fair,” he sighs and rolls over to peer at her through his dark lashes. “The last few years, sure, but I wasn’t always a shit.”
I lift my helm slightly so I can knead the bridge of my nose, hoping to stave off a headache, and wonder if it’s too late to switch places with Dayton. I’d much rather be in Hadria, working with Delphie and Nori. Wrangling two teenage girls would be far preferable to this.
Tilla groans and hooks her morning star back to her belt.
“Look, Ez, I don’t even want to be dealing with this.
I told you I’d be your steward until you found a new high ruler.
Well, you’ve got a helm and a blessing and a whole realm in need of some hope.
Instead, you’re hiding away in here. You’ve got to deal with this! ”
I lay a hand against the doorframe and stare out at the halls of Draconhold. I never imagined coming back to my beautiful city like a rat, sneaking around at night, stealing bits of food, and hiding from the light of day. But then again, I never imagined coming back to Florendel at all.
I was banished. How can I face my people after letting them down so completely?
My gaze shifts to Kairyn, twirling his half-eaten mango in his hands. And if I cannot fathom standing before my citizens, how could Kairyn? He who betrayed them and everything Spring stands for?
Tilla puts a hand on my shoulder, urging me to look at her.
Her voice softens. “Ezryn, I served your mother loyally. And when she made you high prince, I truly believed we could be in no better hands. I still believe that. You and Kel and Dayton and Fare may be idiots, but you’re good idiots.
” I hear a kind smile in her voice. “But you’re living my dream right now.
Working with magic ore to craft an ancient weapon?
That’s my passion! Instead, I’m living your dream.
Rallying the people of Spring under a common cause.
One of the main reasons I never wanted to marry Kel was because I didn’t want the life of a royal. Now you’re forcing me into it.”
“You’re right,” I murmur. “It’s not fair. I’m sorry.”
“Spring needs you, Ezryn.”
“I’ll think about it—”
Tilla slugs my arm hard, and I regret not wearing my full suit of armor. “Well, think fast, because I’m tired and I miss my forge. And I need my damn ship fixed.”
I rub my bicep, already seeing a bruise. “Okay, okay. Kairyn will meet you in the dockyard tomorrow night—”
“I’m not meeting him alone,” she cries, then crosses her arms. “He’s likely to strangle me with that weird tail of his.”
We both turn to Kairyn, who’s sitting up. He gives an intentionally creepy grin and flicks his tail.
I gesture out the door. “We can’t both go. It’s not safe to leave George alone.”
“Well, good thing a new bodyguard just arrived.”
The voice fills the small storage room with warm bravado. I shift to the sound, and my chest beams with brightness.
Standing in the doorway, skin bronzed from the sun and with a giant smile on his face, is my brother by choice, Dayton.