73. Ezryn
Ezryn
Isit at the long table in Castletree’s dining room, feeling strangely at ease.
There’s noise everywhere. Staff duck in and out, laughter bounces off the stone and wooden walls, feet tip-tap on the floor, and silverware clangs. The whole place is alight with motion, with warmth, with a kind of joy I haven’t felt since…
Well, since Rosalina arrived.
Though there was no grand announcement, it wasn’t long before the staff figured it out. Of course they did. Aurelia and Rosalina could be twins after all. And Aurelia emits such a presence, it’s like basking in the sun itself.
The Queen of the Vale has returned, and Castletree is alive with the ecstasy of it. Caspian’s thorns still hold up its structure. I can only imagine it will take a while before the queen’s magic has restored enough to heal Castletree.
Before me stretches out a feast fit for a coronation, even though it’s simply teatime. The chef, Oliviana, has summoned the full strength of the kitchens, and Marigold has pulled out the finest tableware.
It’s like a culinary map of the Enchanted Vale spread before us. There are maize cakes topped with salsa, served alongside stuffed blossoms filled with smoky beans and roasted peppers, some of my favorite dishes from Spring.
From the Summer Realm, traditional baked barley loaves brushed with oil and fig skewers drizzled with honey are plated on a terra-cotta platter. I can’t resist tearing off a chunk of a loaf, just for the warmth of it in my palm.
Autumn’s fare is richer, with oat pies and roasted root vegetables with blackened edges. The apple cakes are nearly gone.
A rich smell creeps up from Winter’s dishes, reminding me of my many childhood adventures spent in Frostfang with Keldarion. Dark rye, sharp cheese, and lingonberry preserves are all on the menu.
I even notice a row of ink-black mushroom tarts, a staple in the Below. It seems like Oliviana wanted all the realms to be represented. I’ll have to tell Marigold to save one for me. She always makes a separate plate that I can eat in private, when my helm is off.
Tearing my gaze away from the food, I look across the room.
Dayton’s pulled out a pair of wooden training swords and has somehow baited Kairyn into a sparring match.
Marigold dashes past them carrying a steaming dish the size of a small basin and shrieks, “Get those swords out of my dining room before I flay you with them!” Dayton grins and ducks as Kairyn swings at him.
Trailing after Marigold, her large feet flapping on the floor, is Heidigog.
Why am I not surprised Rosalina befriended the most peculiar of creatures?
It seems Marigold’s been tasked with taking the goblin under her wing.
Heidigog struggles to keep up, nearly tripping over her dress, a pink, floral puffball of fabric. Flavia’s handiwork, no doubt.
To my right, Keldarion, Farron, Astrid, and Eldor are locked in a card game.
Judging by the victorious smirk on Astrid’s face and the gleam in Keldarion’s eye, I’d wager they’re on the same team.
They’re not gloating, but I catch a few nods and nudges.
Meanwhile, Farron’s groaning into his cards, and Eldy looks ready to upend the table.
My heart swells seeing them all like this. It’s been so long since everyone’s been able to relax, to remember that there is goodness in the quiet moments. And it’s all thanks to Rosalina. She promised she would bring her mother home, and she did.
I peek over my shoulder to look at her: the Queen of the Enchanted Vale.
Aurelia leans against the wall, effortlessly graceful.
There are still dark circles under her eyes and a sallowness to her complexion, but it does not detract from her beauty.
At once natural and at home in this hall, there’s something also…
strange about her. A legend materialized from the words of a story.
She hasn’t been able to have a quiet moment since she arrived. Even now, she’s pinned in on both sides. On her right by George, who I don’t think has let go of her hand once. And on her left by Justus.
Dayton sent word to him about Aurelia’s return.
He’s the only soul outside the castle who knows.
Centuries ago, he went by the name Aeneas and traveled with Aurelia throughout the realms, finding the mythkarite that would one day form the divine weapons.
She named him the first high ruler of Summer.
When Aurelia is ready, we’ll let the realms know about her return. But until then, it felt right that Justus be informed. He’d shown up at the castle a day after we sent the letter. I guess he was eager to see his queen once again.
Now, Justus looks far more groomed than I’ve ever known him to be, his gray-white hair flowing over his shoulders, beard trimmed.
He wears the traditional garb of Summer, a sheet of pale fabric clasped over one shoulder, revealing his toned arms. I can only hope I maintain such form at his advanced age.
He leans toward Aurelia, a wine goblet in hand, his grin easy.
“I must confess, I wasn’t entirely sure you were real.
Dayton’s letter made it sound like a story told in a poem.
‘She’s returned from the darkness, as radiant as the cosmos themselves.
Unchanged by time.’ That’s how he wrote it. Very dramatic, that boy.”
Aurelia lifts a brow. “And yet here I am. Unchanged by time…and as unimpressed by flattery as ever.”
Justus chuckles. “I was hoping to at least earn mild amusement.”
She sips from her own goblet, a twinkle in her brown eyes. “You’ll have to try harder than that, Aeneas.”
“Stars, I haven’t heard that name in a century.” He tilts his head toward her. “You remembered.”
“Hard to forget the first high ruler of Summer.”
George shifts beside her, arms crossed, trying not to scowl. “He’s not a high ruler anymore.”
“I never claimed to be,” Justus replies smoothly, his eyes never leaving Aurelia’s. “And yet she remembers me fondly.”
“Fondly?” George cuts in. “I doubt that’s the word she’d use.”
Aurelia turns, slow and deliberate, placing a hand on George’s arm. “Relax, love. We’re all friends here.”
Justus raises his glass. “Some of us are very old friends.”
George doesn’t answer, but the muscle in his jaw ticks.
Aurelia smiles sweetly between them. “You boys keep this up, and I’ll have to make you duel for me.”
“Is that an invitation?” Justus asks, giving a grin that reminds me of Dayton.
“I’m not sure either of you could handle it.” Aurelia waltzes off, hips swaying, to a new spot: right over Farron’s shoulder. She leans down and whispers in his ear: “Play your moonstone prince. It’ll kill the deck.”
Now Justus, George, and Farron all seem to be blushing messes.
I snort and shake my head, barely disguising a laugh. Justus can try all he likes, but he doesn’t stand a chance. Not when Aurelia gazes at George like he’s the stars, the moon, and the sun all wrapped up in one. That kind of devotion doesn’t unravel, not even with hundreds of years between them.
Caspian’s sitting beside me. I notice him watching the interaction as well, and he chuckles into his wine cup.
He looks relaxed, lounging, one leg crossed over the other, an arm draped over the chair next to him.
There’s a stillness to him, not brooding or braced for a fight.
Just…quiet. At peace, in a way I don’t know if I’ve ever seen before.
I feel the same thing in him that I feel in myself: that rare and fragile sense that, for a breath, we are allowed to just be.
His gaze remains on Aurelia, and he says lowly, only for me to hear, “With her home, it’s as if a great weight has been lifted off my briars. Like I can breathe properly for the first time in years.”
“You don’t have to keep Castletree standing anymore.”
He shakes his head. “She’s not at full strength yet. Until she recovers…” He trails off, but I can hear the unspoken words. Until that day, it’s still on me.
“You’re not alone,” I say softly.
His violet gaze pierces through my helm, but he doesn’t fight me. He nods. We fall back into our easy quiet.
But because it’s Caspian and it’s me, I need to ask, “What do you think Sira’s doing now?”
His expression darkens. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, she hasn’t given up. She’s not out of tricks, not by a long shot.”
The air around us feels colder for a beat. I glance toward the doorway, half expecting to see someone appear.
“Rosalina’s due to return soon,” I say, more to myself than him. “Perhaps your sister will be with her.”
“I don’t think my little Birdy will ever fly home.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “There’s no way everything in my life can be perfect.”
I search his face, the sadness tucked behind those words. A laugh rings out across the room. Kairyn’s on the floor now, pinned by Dayton, who’s grinning like he’s won a war. Kairyn kicks him off but accepts Dayton’s hand up, then demands a rematch.
A smile forms beneath my helm as I watch them. “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” I say. “Maybe it can be messy. And that’s okay.” I pause. “Maybe it’s better.”
Caspian lifts a brow, then smiles. “I suppose you’re right—”
Something shifts.
Kairyn, mid-swing with his wooden sword, goes still. Not tired or winded. Still. Like a statue frozen, head cocked at an unnatural angle, breath held.
Heidigog drops the platter she was holding. It crashes to the floor with a clang. Carrots scatter. A bowl rolls and spins, spins, spins…then stops.
Silence.
Then I see their eyes.
Kairyn’s first. Flooded with darkness, black as pitch. It spills across the whites of his eyes like ink dropped in water, swallowing everything.
Heidigog’s too. Her little hands curl into claws at her sides, her pink dress bouncing up and down as she shakes.
I rise from my chair slowly, finger trailing up toward my token, heart pounding even as my voice stays calm. “Kairyn, what’s going on?”
They move. Stiff, jerking movements, like puppets on invisible strings.
And then they attack.