45. Farron
45
Farron
“W e’re almost there,” I say.
We walked just outside of the keep to a grove of trees. Rosalina is quiet, and I’m grateful for her patience with me.
She’s too patient. You took too long, Farron. I close my eyes at the thought. It wasn’t jealousy that spurred me earlier in the library, at least not in the traditional sense. Rosalina’s affections for the other princes are both understandable and comforting—though she laments their rejections. Instead, I’m filled with anger at myself.
How often have I been in her presence, aching to hold her, to press my lips against hers and whisper my longing? Every moment we’ve spent together burns in my mind, all the different times I could have let her know she is not just a companion to me, but the absolute focus of my affections.
But instead, I’ve hesitated. Restrained myself.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. “To Coppershire’s first library.”
“Oh!” Rosalina flutters with excitement. “Where is it?”
“It was treated as a sacred space built right outside Keep Oakheart. You might have seen it from your room, though after the fire, a grove of trees was planted around it to hide the remains from view.”
We slip between the tightly knit trees into an opening drenched in cool sunlight.
“Welcome to the Great Scriptorium of Alder,” I say. “Or what’s left of it.”
The remnants of a once grand structure lay in the clearing before us. Fire has reduced the building’s outer walls to charred rubble, leaving only a few pillars and arches standing. The roof has collapsed entirely, now a warped mass of wooden beams and ash. Through the twisted trees, I can just see the towers of the keep, including the balcony connected to our chamber.
Despite the destruction, I can still make out the remains of intricate carvings on the surviving pillars. Fragments of once-beautiful stained-glass windows litter the ground. The treasures held here—the books and pages—have long turned to ash.
Carefully, Rosalina steps toward the wreckage. She looks out of place, too much beauty for such devastation.
I don’t know why my mother never ordered the removal of these ruins. Maybe she wants it to remain as a reminder to me.
A massive alder tree stands in the middle of the rubble, its trunk a stout pillar that stretches up to the blue sky. The tree’s canopy is ablaze with fiery hues, the leaves transformed into a tapestry of golds, oranges, and reds that shimmer in the sunlight.
I hold Rosalina’s hand and walk into the burned remains. I can practically see it take shape around me: the old entranceway so familiar, the smell of books and ink a sanctuary in itself.
My boots crack over the burnt rubble. “I used to spend every moment here. If only you could have seen it, Rosie. The ceiling stretched so tall, it seemed to blend in with the sky. The bookstacks moved, and you only had to change your thoughts to find the proper shelves in front of you. This place was home to writers and visionaries, philosophers and strategists.”
Rosalina touches what may once have been the leather cover of a tome. Her fingers come away black. “There was more knowledge here than at Castletree?”
“Yes.” I spin, images coming to life: gold-plated shelves, political debates, the grinding gears of a printing press. “But it held more than history or spells. Much of our culture was recorded here, and of civilizations long past. Tales of the world Above, a place so old only the Queen knew of it.”
Rosalina blinks up at the sky. Her hand stretches upward. “The world Above…”
My eyes rest on the huge alder tree. “And the Scriptorium was home to many rare grimoires.”
“What’s a grimoire?”
“A book of spells. But not the usual kind that we write on parchment and share with one another. The spells recorded in a grimoire are… more advanced.”
She grabs my arm. “The spell you were looking for. Could it be in one of those?”
“Possibly,” I say. “But if it did, it’s more than likely nothing but ash now.”
“Farron, how did the library burn down?”
My chest clenches, and I can’t meet her gaze. Everyone in Autumn knows this story. The other princes know. But to tell Rosalina…
But she takes my chin in her hand and guides me to look back at her. The softest smile caresses her face.
“It’s my fault,” I say. “I let the library burn to the ground.”
Rosalina opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off before she can say anything. “I told you my mother was the High Princess before me. She’d grown tired of the role and decided to pass the title on. She asked if I was ready. I said yes, not because I wanted it or because I thought I would be a good leader, but because I didn’t want to disappoint her.”
I shake my head and move deeper into the rubble. “I hated the responsibility, the pressure. Everyone always needed me to fix something. How could I fix the realm when I couldn’t even tell my mother the truth?” I throw my head back, staring into the sun until my eyes burn.
Rosalina stays silent but hovers close.
“Things only got worse during the War of Thorns. I was High Prince in a time of war.” I grab Rosalina’s hand and squeeze. “It is hard to describe the horrors that were unleashed by the Below. Of the choices that had to be made.”
“I can’t imagine,” she whispers. “What did you do?”
I laugh joylessly. “What did I do? I hid. Every day, I held up in the scriptorium and let my mother make the hard decisions. The ones that cost some lives to save others. But she had passed her magic onto me, and without Autumn’s Blessing, the realm became harder and harder to hold.”
Rosalina’s face scrunches up. “I understand what it’s like to be afraid. To be unable to act even though your whole being is screaming at you to do something, anything . I’m… still working on it.”
“Rosalina,” I say softly and stroke the smooth skin where her scar used to be, “you willingly became a prisoner to the fae to save your father. You are no coward.”
Something twists in her expression, but she shakes her head and looks back at me. “The library…”
“There was an assault on Coppershire by an army of goblins and other creatures created in the Below. They weren’t looking for terms of surrender; it was a pillage, plain and simple.” I can see and hear it all in my mind’s eye: the screams, the fire, the dark shapes scrambling through the night.
“My mother rallied the forces, but it wasn’t enough. She needed the magic of Autumn’s Blessing.” The words tear up my throat. “She needed me.”
“Where were you, Farron?” Rosalina whispers.
“I was here!” All energy drains from me, and I sink into the charcoal. “When I saw the assault, I ran. My mother needed me on the front lines to protect the people, but I fled to the one place I always thought was safe. But the thing about being High Prince is you’ve always got the magic with you. And those creatures can smell it like a stink. They knew I was hiding.” Shards of ashen wood crush beneath my fingers. “So they tried to smoke me out.”
“Oh,” Rosalina whispers. She drifts to her knees to sit beside me. “They set fire to the library.”
“Every text with irreplaceable knowledge, every map of lands now lost, every piece of precious artwork… Gone.”
“But you survived. And you are most important of all.” She grabs my shoulders, then looks around. “How did you endure the fire?”
I stand on shaky legs and walk over to the huge alder tree. Leaves whisper in the wind, carrying a magic I know only I can feel. The tree is untouched by any damage, its roots anchoring deep in the ground, stretching out amongst the ruins.
There is an image carved into the trunk, the outline of the ram’s head: a symbol of the royal family. I place my palm over it, and golden light floods through the etching.
The trunk shimmers, fading away to reveal a luminescent doorway.
Rosalina gasps and I grab her hand, pulling her with me inside the tree. We step into a dimly lit room, cramped with old shelves and even older books.
“A secret library?” Rosalina asks.
“The Queen planted the alder tree when she first created Autumn. It’s enchanted so that only the royal family can enter. It’s protected by a very ancient warding spell, so the fire didn’t affect it. I stayed in here for hours, but I could hear the fire blazing, the walls collapsing around me. The goblins, laughing.”
Rosalina stares at a space between the stacks. Could she know that’s where I’d curled into a ball, hands pressed to my ears, listening to my realm’s destruction but doing nothing to stop it? The memories keep flooding back, unwanted and unbidden. I try to push them away, but they propel at me, one after the other. Each feels like a weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating me. Coward, coward, coward.
My heart races faster, and I want nothing more than to get out of this cramped space, but my legs have forgotten how to work. I shuffle backward, smacking into a bookshelf. My eyes are wide but unseeing, and I think my lungs may burst from my chest—
“Farron, it’s okay. I’m here. We’re safe right now. Nothing like that’s going to happen again, alright?” Rosalina’s hands are on the side of my face, and she guides me down to a sitting position. “Let’s breathe together. Deep breath in, hold at the top, and out.”
I close my eyes and concentrate on her voice, letting her guide me. Finally, my heart feels like it’s not going to rip free from my chest, and I bat my eyes open.
She’s right in front of me, smiling softly.
“You’re still here. Even though you know the truth about me.”
“Oh, Farron,” she whispers. “You came for me when I was at my lowest. That’s what we do. We stay together.”
I lean against her chest. “Do you understand now why my mother doesn’t trust me? Why the people have no faith in me?” My voice wavers. “Why I won’t be able to stop this winter?”
She pulls me to my feet and puts her hands on her hips. “You’re not alone, Farron. You’ve got three other High Princes and one human to help you. Besides,” she spins around and stares up into the towering trunk, “think of this tree. It’s thriving in adversity, still growing amidst the destruction. You have the same resilience.” Her eyes sparkle with determination. “Bloom among the ashes.”
“I wish I had your optimism.”
She turns to the stacks. “What are all these books? They must have been important if they were kept within the tree.”
“After the fire, the most precious books kept at Keep Oakheart were moved in here for safekeeping. Family histories, diaries of ancient rulers, that sort of thing. But most of these books were kept hidden for good reason. Some knowledge should not be pursued, for the rewards are too uncertain.”
“You mean these are evil books?”
“Grimoires,” I correct, “filled with twisted and dark spells. Unfortunately, we will find no aid here.”
“But maybe there’s something—”
My heart pounds in my chest, and I tug at the collar of my shirt. “Rosalina, I’ve already tampered with enough dark magic. If you do something wrong with one of these spells, it could make everything worse.”
Rosalina runs a finger down the spine of one of the books. “The goblins that attacked the library… Did Caspian send them?”
“Maybe. He’d betrayed Kel at that point and had fully joined the Below’s forces. But I think more likely it was Sira.”
“Sira?”
My throat tenses to even speak her name. “Yes. Someone even Caspian is afraid of.”
Before I can tell her more of the Queen of the Below, Rosalina leans against a shelf, her shoulders shaking. “Rosie? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been keeping a secret from everyone. I think I’m afraid of the answer.”
“What?”
Her brown eyes sparkle as she turns to me. “I can hear him in my head. Caspian. He talks inside of me.”
At first, I’m about to laugh. It’s an impossible notion. But the fear in her gaze stops me. She’s serious. “When did this begin?”
“At the Solstice Ball.”
Cold slithers through my body. I’ve read about telepathic conversations before. Read about them when we were researching… No. I shake my head, refusing to dwell on the thought. It must be another one of his tricks, another seed of his foul magic.
I knead the bridge of my nose, careful to keep my expression neutral. I don’t want to worry Rosalina until I’ve researched this myself. “There’s so much we don’t know, especially about the Below. I’m sure there’s some sort of reason for it. But… I wouldn’t tell Kel.”
“Caspian did something really terrible to him, didn’t he?”
I sigh. “You have no idea.”
A brightness returns to her voice, and she smiles, though I know it pains her. “Maybe one day he’ll trust me enough to tell me why.”
I take her hand and lead her out of the tree and into the bright sunlight. The trees rustle with ancient songs the fae no longer have the words for. “I hope so.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but at the dinner last month, it seemed like there was a history between the five of you. Almost like you were all once… friends.”
I touch the thorn choker around my neck. Though I hate the hideous thing, Caspian has been true to his word. It has controlled my beast each night and kept my loved ones safe. “We all learned the hard way that there can be no true friendship with someone from the Below. They’re not like us, Rose. They see the world as something to be conquered.”
Her gaze is faraway, staring down into the ash-covered dirt. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I get the feeling he’s really lonely.”
“Trust me. Even if Caspian wanted to abandon the Below, he couldn’t.” She opens her mouth to press me further, but I can’t stand to think of Caspian anymore, of his goblins raiding our villages, of his thorns draining Castletree. Draining me. Quickly, I say, “Hey, I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
I fish in my pocket and pull out the moonstone rose locket.
“Oh my gosh.” She snatches it from me, holding it up to the sun until it glitters like a prism. “You did it! You really fixed it.”
“I’m pretty good with my hands,” I mumble, face suddenly hot.
She passes it back and turns around, moving her braid aside. I trail it over her chest and take my time doing the clasp, savoring the beauty of her long neck, of the smell of roses each time she swishes her hair. “You know, this is the sigil of the Queen.”
“What?”
“This rose.” I dust my fingers over it. “How did your father come by it, anyway?”
“It belonged to my mother. She was an anthropologist, and he was an archeologist. They worked together on a bunch of different sites. I bet she found it on one of her expeditions.”
“It’s a strange miracle you can use it,” I say.
“Well, maybe there’s more to both of us than we give ourselves credit for.”
“I hope you’re right.”
We head away from the wreckage. I thought I’d feel lighter after telling her, but I’ve only reminded myself what a coward the Autumn Realm has for a ruler.
Rosalina looks over her shoulder. “You know, my father did several excavations recovering artifacts from burned sites. He might find something salvageable.”
“He’s more than welcome to look, but I’m afraid it’s a futile cause.” I close my eyes. “The spells that could have stopped this frost are lost.”
I blink open when I feel her soft touch against my cheek. “Fire may have destroyed the past, but it’s what will save our future. We only have to be brave enough to discover it.”
Light filters through the trees, creating pockets of brightness and shadow across her skin. She’s so beautiful. The way the sunlight flickers off her hair, her long dark lashes as she lowers her gaze. I’ve laid before her my most seared edges, and she hasn’t run. She only draws closer…
I wish I could tell her she’s right, that I’m not afraid anymore. I wish I could sweep her into my arms and kiss her. I want to know her in the way I know my favorite books, read her front to back and savor every sentence, learn every secret between the lines of her life. I wish I could discover all the ways to love someone with her.
But she is Kel’s mate, and my own bond is a tangled mess inside of me. We don’t have a future together.
And if we do, it’s only one that will end in heartbreak for the both of us.