11. Rosalina
11
Rosalina
E verything is happening so fast, I barely have time to let loose a scream as Ezryn flings me to the ground and crouches his body over mine.
“Fuck!” Dayton snarls. “Farron!”
But it’s too late. The wolf rips its way out of the Autumn Prince. The massive beast lunges across the floor and tackles Lucas to the ground. Lucas releases an ear-shattering cry.
I stagger up, and bile rises in my throat. The wolf, brown fur embedded with rotten leaves and brittle twigs, has Lucas pinned beneath its claws. His chest is ripped open, flesh falling away like pages of a book. And he’s screaming, screaming, screaming as the wolf’s teeth clench upon his head—
Ezryn reaches into the neckline of his neon ski jacket and yanks out his necklace: a wooden square carved with floral designs. It clicks open into a locket, and he shines the light right beside Farron’s wolf. A shimmering portal erupts from the space. Ezryn turns to Dayton. “Deal with him. We’ll meet you out front of the castle.”
Dayton’s mouth is a thin line, eyes dark. He nods, and then his own skin melts away, replaced by the golden wolf. The beast lopes forward, snagging Farron by the loose skin around his neck.
I cover my ears, unable to take Lucas’s screaming or Farron’s howls. Ezryn still perches over me, holding Lucas’s knife toward Farron. Dayton yanks hard, and the Autumn wolf recoils from Lucas, his maw red and dripping.
“Go!” Ezryn cries.
The last I see is the brown wolf swiping with a bloodied claw before the two monstrous beasts shimmer out of sight.
I can’t think. There’s no time to revel in how my life has changed in minutes. Lucas is lying on the ground, his wails now a guttural sputter. With trembling hands, I crawl closer. His pooled blood splashes around my knees.
His insides are outside, eyes glassy and unseeing. Each breath sounds wet.
He’s dying , I think. I feel nothing, not sorrow or pity. Just a fact. Lucas is dying.
But I can save him.
I sense a presence behind me and look up to see Ezryn. Regardless of this strange outfit, he has the aura of a knight in shining armor. “Help me,” I breathe. “I owe him a life-debt. Please. Ez.”
For once, I’m glad I can’t see Ezryn’s face. By the way his body stills, I can only imagine his disapproval. And why not?
Lucas is a monster.
But Farron isn’t. If Lucas dies, Farron will never forgive himself for killing someone. I can’t let him live with that.
“Ezryn,” I whisper, “you can heal him.”
Ezryn snarls under his breath in a language I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he’s cursing me out. But he tugs off his gloves and places his hands straight inside the gaping wound. “I need something to staunch the bleeding. Hurry.”
I look around the hideous gift shop and jerk a couple of brightly colored Orca Cove hoodies off the racks and run them back to Ez.
A feeble green light shimmers around his hands as Ezryn holds the fabric to the ragged flesh.
Lucas’s blood seeps through my leggings as I kneel beside Ez. Ezryn came for me. They all did.
Well, not all of them. Tears spring anew to my eyes, and I hastily wipe them away.
I don’t want to distract him, but I can’t help myself. I reach out and touch his brightly colored jacket.
“What are you doing?” he murmurs.
“Making sure you’re real,” I whisper back.
He turns and looks at me. My throat clenches. His goggles are too darkly tinted to see his eyes, but I feel the intensity of his gaze.
He reaches out a hand, his fingertips shimmering with magic and blood, and touches my arm.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Making sure you’re real.”
“Rosalina? Rosalina!” a voice booms, and we both turn to the doorway. A man charges in, gasping for breath.
Immediately, Ezryn lunges for the knife, but I fling a hand to his chest. “That’s my father!”
“Oh.” Ezryn releases it and turns back to Lucas.
Blood runs down a gash on my father’s temple.
“Papa!” I rush to him. “Are you okay?”
“I may be old, but I can hold my own against a couple of thugs.” He practically puffs out his chest. Then his eyes leave mine. “My god, what happened here?” He’s not looking at Lucas dying on the floor or the large man in nineties ski wear with his hands literally inside Lucas’s body.
He’s staring at the shimmering portal.
“This is Ezryn. Remember I told you about him? He’s my… friend.” The word sounds odd, too intimate and distant all at once.
“Yes, yes, High Prince of Spring, how do you do?” Papa mumbles but walks closer to the portal, holding a hand up to it. It licks at the edges of his fingertips.
Ezryn doesn’t respond. The ripped skin on Lucas’s chest has knitted back together, but his breathing is shallow. The hoodies are wrapped like a tourniquet around his torso. Ezryn heaves him up over his shoulders. “My magic is weak in the human world,” he says. “I’ve stabilized him, but we’ll need to take him to Castletree if he’s to recover.”
I nod, not letting myself think too hard about what that means.
Ezryn strides to the portal and looks between my father and I. “Alright, O’Connells,” he says smoothly. “Let’s get you home.”