85. Rosalina
Rosalina
The world is not the same.
The Briar, once a labyrinth of thorns thick as tree trunks, now feels like walking between the bones of a skeleton. Caspian’s briars are withered. Rotten. Dead.
Castletree is gone. Not only was it my home, but it was the source of my magic. Wrenley’s magic. The princes’ magic.
All magic.
Now there’s simply a thin sensation in the air, the world around us matte and gray.
We are captured, all of us. Walking in a line, hands clasped with steel. The underfae army had been waiting for all those who escaped the collapsing castle. The staff, Justus, Kel, Ezryn, Dayton, Farron, Caspian. Mom and Wrenley. We march, manacles clanking.
I don’t know where Kairyn and Heidigog are. Probably somewhere amid the other legions of Sira’s possessed creations, their wills stolen.
Faustrius and his soldiers walk beside us, carrying heavy bows, spears, and swords. Their eyes differ from the rest of Sira’s army, still shining various shades of red, yellow, and green. So she hasn’t stolen their wills.
Where are they taking us? I have no idea. We’ve been marching for hours.
And I don’t have the strength to stop the voice that mutters: Who cares?
My father is dead.
I will never hear his boisterous laugh or listen to his crazy theories or watch him fall in love with his Annie all over again.
There isn’t even rage inside me. There’s just nothing at all.
Mom’s been screaming for hours. I think her voice must be close to going out, but it doesn’t stop. Brutal, guttural cries that can only be from the very darkest corners of her heart.
One of the underfae guards walked over to her about an hour ago, told her to be quiet. Without hesitating, she lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. The heart’s cry had become a battle roar, and I swear she was going to tear his throat out with her teeth until another guard pulled her off.
She’s gagged now, but I can still hear her screams through it.
The princes have all tried to catch my eye, but I can’t tell them what happened. I think I could still speak in their minds if I tried—the only bright magic left within me are my mate bonds—but I don’t have the words.
Instead, I walk with my sister. Wrenley drifts like a wraith beside me. My mind imagines us as twin ghosts floating through the briar husks.
I haven’t heard her speak since we were imprisoned, so when she whispers, “It doesn’t make sense,” I look around, sure it must have been a voice on the wind.
Her sapphire gaze burrows into me. I meet it. This is the only place I’ll find my father’s eyes now.
“That arrow was coming for me,” she spits. “We’d only just met. Why would he sacrifice himself for me? I don’t get it.”
I sigh, the answer so painfully obvious. I’m too numb to feel sympathy for her. “Because in that moment, he knew you. And that’s what family does.”
Wrenley slows her pace after that, and we fall out of step. I don’t look back at her.
The only comfort to me is the press of the roses against my chest, hidden by my white T-shirt. I’m still in my human clothes. Leggings. Boots. I look so much like I did when I first came to the Vale.
I wish I could say I felt different. I’d thought I’d changed.
But I’m still as weak as I was then.
Up ahead, Faustrius raises a hand, and we halt. The huge underfae, his slate-colored skin shiny with sweat, begins to walk the line, checking the faces of the prisoners. Kel yells at him as he passes by, but Faustrius ignores him.
A shadow stretches over me. I drag my gaze up until I’m face-to-face with the antlered warlord.
Once a fae of the Above who chose to become one of Sira’s monsters, he is as ancient as my mother.
I wonder if he ever knew her. Perhaps he does not recognize her as a human, thrashing and muzzled.
And I do not think she recognizes anything but her grief.
“So,” I say, my voice devoid of any emotion, “is your vengeance now sated, prince, pauper, king? Thrainn of Winter refused you a home. You’ve destroyed ours.”
He stares at me for a long time, the ribbons attached to his antlers swaying in the breeze. “No. It does not seem to me justice has been delivered.” He pulls out a large silver key, grabs my wrist, and unlocks my manacles.
“What are you doing?” I breathe.
“Quite the escape attempt you organized, out here in the Briar. Freeing your party without killing a single member of my guard. Most impressive.”
“Escape? We haven’t escaped—”
Faustrius silences me with a glare. “I have been complicit in the destruction of two worlds. One, I helped orchestrate. The other was forced upon me when my people were frozen, left to remain entrapped forever. My people deserve a place on the surface, and if that means upending the old order for a new one, so be it.” He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring.
“But I will not let Sira dictate which lives I take. That will be my own choice. And you and yours deserve to live.” He steps away from me and holds up a hand. “Let them go!”
Steel clangs as his soldiers wrest the manacles off each prisoner’s wrists.
My words are a breath. “Why free us?”
“You are their leader.” Faustrius reaches into his heavy black cape and pulls something out.
A stuffed, winged lion. Aeneas, the toy I leant to Aquila.
“If you treat your people with the kindness that you treated mine, then I wish you a chance at life.” He drags his gaze from me to Kel, to Caspian, and finally to Ezryn, Day, and Farron.
“Do not think this means your safety. There is nowhere in the Enchanted Vale that Sira won’t be able to find you.
She will hunt the six of you until you’re dead.
” He holds me still with a stare. “I’ll give you as much time as I can.
Find your people shelter. This is only the beginning. ”
With a snap of his cape, Faustrius turns.
I reach out and snag his arm. “Wait. Why do you follow her?”
He gazes at me, red eyes soft. “She promised me a new world. If I stop now, it will all have been for nothing.”
I stay rooted to the spot as Faustrius and his soldiers form a new line, marching back the way we came, leaving the people of Castletree adrift in the dying bones of the Briar.
His words rumble in my mind. It will all have been for nothing.
Farron’s grief from days before echoes behind it: What was it all for?
And my own question joins the fray.
If we don’t stop it, who does?