51. Ezryn
Ezryn
Grief riots through my mate bond, a colossal torrent of it, enough to steal the breath from my lungs and bring tears to my eyes.
But it’s an echo, not belonging to Rosalina herself but to one of her mates.
A mate of my mate is in terrible pain.
We haven’t found Kel, Rosalina, or Caspian. Cas’s palace was empty, his bedroom devoid of any clues, no sign of the rose. But I remember the direction Dayton, Farron, and the twins were headed when we left them.
George and I tear out of the palace grounds and into the main artery of Cryptgarden.
The city, thick with strange mist that hangs over the black cobblestone, glows in jewel tones from the gems embedded in the buildings.
The place seems to have deteriorated from when I last walked these streets.
There are piles of rubble, and gleaming graffiti shines in back alleys.
There’s no sign of goblins, underfae, or any of Sira’s other servants, but even if there were, I wouldn’t hide. I’d cut them down right here in the street if they dared try to prevent me from getting to my family.
George keeps pace with my sprint, and I’m once again impressed by his fortitude. Though he can’t feel the sorrow piercing through the bond, I think he senses it in me.
Shapes appear in the distance, moving fast toward us. I touch my token, materializing the Hammer of Hope. “Get behind me—” I begin, readying an attack.
But it’s not goblins or ogres or trolls barrelling our way. It’s all manner of creatures, none known to be inhabitants of the Below. Many I’ve only glimpsed in the wild or heard about in legend. Dire spiders, gryphons, white elk, queen’s winter foxes, firebirds, all in a stampede.
I grab George tight to my side, and we go still, letting the herd charge past. I glimpse a pink-haired woman, clad only in a dirty blanket, running amid the animals. Her large, webbed ears denote her as a siren.
She skids to a halt before me. “Don’t try to stop us from leaving.”
“I would not dare.” I recognize her from Caspian’s revelry day celebration, which feels like ages ago. Another prisoner of the Below. My hammer dematerializes from my grip. “Please, tell me have you seen a party of four fae? Three men of Autumn, one of Summer?”
She tilts her head, observing me for a moment before deciding I can be trusted. “They’re at the menagerie. Very south of town. Keep following this street, then take a left when you see the cliffside.”
“Are they safe?”
“They were when we departed.”
I don’t have time to ask how she met them or where she’s going. Snatching George’s vest, I yank him behind me. “Come on.”
We bolt through the animals, leaving them to their mission and them leaving us to ours.
My lungs burn and my legs are on fire by the time we cross into the southern quarter.
I don’t know if I’ve ever run so fast. George is red-faced and wheezing, about ten steps back now.
I suck in a deep breath and nearly vomit.
The scent of death sits heavy on the air, thick and cloying.
George is not so lucky, heaving over the cobblestones.
I give him under a minute to collect himself, then we’re off again, heading straight into the fog of death. A broken sign hangs before us: MENAGERIE.
Dozens of corpses, days old by the smell, litter the ground, all clad in the golden armor of Autumn. My feet slow as I scan the narrow pass between two rock walls, lined with cages. At the very back, I catch sight of someone pacing.
Dayton.
He looks sickly, eyes hollow and struggling to focus, face a pale sheet. Behind him, one of the twins—Dom, must be, as a hand axe dangles from his belt—sits on the ground, arms around his legs, shaking and crying.
And Farron is curled over the thin body of a boy, who, if the world were fair, would never have known the taste of war.
“Oh no,” George breathes. “Not the lad.”
My chest echoes with anguish, Farron’s sorrow passing into me like an unwanted visitor. No, I’ve got enough of my own grief. Keep this. Keep it.
A pained sob escapes Dom as George falls to his knees and wraps him in his arms. Dom clutches at George, burying his face in his chest.
I’m struck still, staring at Farron.
Something is different. Something about the echo in my chest.
I charge over to Dayton, grab his jaw, stare him in the eye, then look him up and down.
“Ez, stop,” Dayton says, his voice cracking.
“What happened?”
“We were surrounded by Green Flame soldiers. Ones Farron changed himself. Billy…” His words shatter into a gasp.
“How did the soldiers pass on?” I say lowly.
Dayton squeezes his eyes shut. “I think Farron let it go.”
It.
The Green Flame.
I grab Dayton’s tunic and pull it up, burrowing my gaze into the skin of Dayton’s stomach, right where the arrow wound was.
The one that killed him. I have to make myself think the words.
Killed him. Because I can’t forget and pretend that him standing here is anything less than otherworldly. But no wound materializes.
“I’m fine,” Dayton says.
My hands find the sides of his face, Spring’s blessing rising through me, pouring into him. I reach for the flow of his body, desperate to feel that he’s still here—
“Stop it. I’m fine.” Dayton tears out of my grip and steps away. Another pained sound escapes him. “I’m fine. Go to him, please, please, Ez. Farron…he’s the one who needs you.”
I stare at him for a few moments longer.
Then I turn to Farron. A thousand shards of broken glass all seem to pierce my chest at once.
This grief…this is my own. Because Billy looks like such a little thing, just a young boy who should be riding horses and chasing girls and looking forward to all the life he has to live.
And Farron should not have to grieve another loved one. Not Farron. Not he who has always been the kindest, the cleverest, the most caring of us beasts.
Staggering behind him, I fall to my knees, then wrap my arms around Farron, squeezing him so tight, as if I could leach the pain from him and bear it myself. I can’t help Billy. I can’t bring Farron’s mother back. But I can hold him and let his grief crash upon me, even if I can’t do anything else.
Farron crumples against me, clutching at my forearms. I squeeze him tighter. “What was any of it for?” he gasps. “What was it for?”
I don’t have the heart to tell him for nothing. Because I don’t have the heart to tell myself that. The death, the pain, the homes we’ve lost, the families torn apart… This war has to be for something.
Doesn’t it?
Doesn’t it?
A crack sounds in the stone nearby, and golden briars erupt through the ground. Rosalina steps out of them. She wears pitch-black traveling clothes and carries a leather satchel, and even shrouded in sorrow, she is as radiant as the sun.
My breath staggers looking at her. How many sleepless nights did I spend, dreaming of seeing her once more? Worrying if she was okay, what horrors she had to endure down here in the dark, alone? But as she takes in the scene, her spine stays rigid.
She is stronger than Spring steel.
The horror in her eyes shifts to concern as she clutches her chest and looks at Dayton. Does she feel it? Farron’s freedom from the Green Flame?
Does she fear what I fear?
She goes to him, touching him to make sure he’s real, just as I did, then glides toward Farron and I, kneeling at our side.
I want to hold her, to clutch her to me and never let go. The strength of her love caresses me as she holds my gaze.
But grief swallows us all.
I release Farron, allowing Rosalina to take him in her arms. They embrace, become one entity.
Another crack sounds, and purple briars split open the nearby cobblestones. Kel and Caspian step out, followed by a small goblin woman.
I stand, drawing my hammer from the token.
“Easy now,” Caspian says and puts a hand in front of the goblin. “This is Heidigog. She’s with us.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about,” I growl.
“He’s himself,” Kel says.
I take Caspian in, the clever gaze, the catlike grace to his movements, the way he hovers right at Kel’s side. He is himself.
My hammer disappears. I reach out, grab Caspian around the shoulders, and hug him. There’s too much pain in our world to let a moment of goodness pass by.
Caspian makes a purring sound in the back of his throat. “Missed you too, Metal Man.”
“How did you find us?”
“I felt Rosie’s briars travel here and followed those.”
Wave after wave of grief sweeps through our bonds as I fill Caspian and Kel in. I can only imagine what they’ve experienced since we all separated, but that will have to wait. Dayton wanders toward us, but he doesn’t talk, only paces and paws at his chest.
Dom has made his way beside Farron, and the two brothers hold each other, still curled over Billy. Rosalina and George embrace, then they walk over.
“The rose is in my bag,” Rosalina says. “I’ve got it.”
“It won’t be long before someone notices and Cryptgarden is swarmed,” Kel says. “We need to move now—”
George lets loose a cry. He clutches at his chest and falls to his knees. “Anya!”
“Papa!” Rosalina grabs his shoulders, steadying him. “What’s going on?”
George blinks rapidly. “Pain… She’s in pain. I saw her…moved from her cell. Sira’s taking her somewhere. Anya…”
“Where, Papa, where?”
“Two crystals…black as pitch but flashing with green. She’s strung between them…”
Rosalina gives a stricken expression. “I know where that is. Sira’s doing it now—taking all Mom’s power.”
Kel grits his teeth. “We have the rose, and we’re all together. We can’t stay here—”
“And we can’t go.” Farron’s voice cuts the air. He rises and walks toward us, face a blank mask. I can feel the pain he’s hiding beneath it. “We need to finish what we started. Need to make this all mean something.”
I take a step back, looking at my family. Each one of us, broken, jagged shards that will cut one another if we’re not careful. But as George once told me, we still have a choice.
Now, to make the right one.
I turn to Rosalina. “You know where to find your mother?”
“Yes. And Papa can lead us there too. He feels her wherever she is.”
The weight of the words settles over me. We’ve all known about George’s connection with Anya, how he led Kel through the labyrinth…
But the pain he just felt in this moment—it was like how I can feel Rosalina’s pain.
They’re mates. The queen and a human. The magic of the world never ceases to amaze me.
And Sira will drain it all unless we do something.
Rosalina’s stern voice interrupts my thoughts. “We’ll send the rose to the surface and then end this once and for all.”
I take Rosalina’s bag from her and open it up. Within, there’s a domed glass jar and inside, a glassy rose, petals slick and reflective like oil.
I pick up the jar and carry it over to Dominic, squatting down beside him. He doesn’t look up.
“Dom?” I touch his shoulder. “There is no way we will ever take away the pain of losing Billagin or fill the hole in our lives where he once stood. But we need to finish what we started. The mission he believed in.”
Dom turns to me. His eyes are red and swollen, gaze faraway. How young he appears. A bird with only one wing, the other torn off, never again able to fly.
I place my palm on his cheek. “Billy needs us to finish this. So there’s something important you must do.” I hold out the glass jar. “Rosalina will send you to Castletree. You’re going to bring this to Marigold and tell her to keep it safe. Can you do it?”
He doesn’t say anything but shakes his head no.
I lower my helm to his forehead, breathing deeply so he can match his breaths to mine. “You can do this. This pain you bear means you’re fighting. You’re a fighter, Dom. And so was your brother. And what Billy was fighting for is worthwhile, I promise.”
Dom draws a raspy breath and takes the jar, clutching it tight to his chest. He nods once.
I squeeze his shoulder before slipping back to Rosalina’s side. “We can’t send him all alone,” she whispers.
“I’ll look after him!” a squeaky voice says. The goblin, Heidigog, tugs on Rosalina’s pants. “I used to work in the crèche, helping hatch the wee squeakers, keeping them all warm and wriggly. Besides, I always wanted a peek at Castletree.”
“You’ll like the bloomies there,” Rose says.
The goblin snorts a laugh. “You and your bloomies.”
And I thought Caspian would be the strangest alliance I would ever make. But Rosalina’s trust is good enough for me. I squat down, holding the goblin’s giant yellow stare. Or at least attempting to. Her pupils go in two different directions, but I think she’s looking at me.
“When you arrive, you’ll meet a woman named Marigold. Tell her Ezryn sent you. She needs to put the rose in the vault and prepare Billy for his journey home. And to look after Dom, please.”
“Message received, shiny pants!”
Farron embraces Dom one more time, then kisses Billy on the forehead. In a sweep of golden briars, Heidigog and the twins of Autumn are swept away to the world we hope to save.
George, Kel, Caspian, Farron, and Dayton drift toward the exit of the menagerie, staring up at the mountain upon which Caspian’s palace is built. Somewhere within, Aurelia is being prepared for the ultimate theft of power.
I move to join them when Rosalina pulls on my elbow. As I turn to her, she falls against me, burrowing her face in my stolen underfae armor. I wrap my arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I just need a moment to be weak.”
“No,” I murmur into her hair. “Don’t apologize. I’ve got you, now and forever. Your sadness doesn’t make you weak. You are the strongest person I know.”
She gazes up at me. Sadness and strength, wrapped together in radiance.
I remove the underfae helmet and let it fall to the ground with a clank.
She strokes a finger over my jaw, my cheek, then laces her hand through my hair.
Her breath is warm on my lips, a taste of the world above.
Gently at first, then with a ferocity I can’t contain, I sweep her in my arms and kiss her.
She may think she’s weak, but her touch gives me more strength than I could ever explain.
As much as I wish we could stay in this embrace, I pull away.
“Now,” I whisper in her ear, “we go make this mean something.”