67. Rosalina
67
Rosalina
W ind tears at the strands of my hair as Amalthea streaks across the fields outside of Coppershire. Hands shaking on the reins, I gulp down a breath, feeling the power of my mount beneath me. I’ve never taken a horse beyond a cantor before, but now I urge my steed forward, barely holding on.
I need to find him.
Normally, mornings in the Autumn Realm are filled with cool sunshine, painting the hills in orange and red. But dark clouds cover the sky, and a crack sounds in the distance.
After I changed into proper travel gear and quickly packed a bag of clothes for Farron, Dominic and Billagin snuck me and my horse out of Coppershire. They’ve returned to join my father in the remains of the burned library. Maybe, just maybe, they can find something amidst the wreckage.
Where is he? Farron’s wolf had torn off through the city and up the hills, but dawn has long spread over the Autumn Realm. I can only imagine him, naked and afraid, huddled into himself.
It doesn’t matter. It’s like I can feel it in my chest: the grief, the terror, the sadness. He’s alone out here, and I won’t stop until he’s in my arms.
A trail of burned grass leading up a hill alerts me that I’m on the right track, but it’s deeper than that. An invisible tether pulls me forward. This way, this way, this way, the wind seems to whisper, tugging at my braid. This way, this way, this way, the rhythm of my horse’s hooves says. This way, this way, this way, rings in every beat of my heart.
We crest the top of a hill when I see the ruined Shrine of Nymphia, the forest, and the graves of the fallen soldiers among the chrysanthemums. I pull to a stop. We were here two months ago when we first learned of the winter wraiths. My horse paces anxiously. A dark shadow creeps over my heart, weaving around that unseen string. Now, I can’t hear the heartsong guiding me forward. Now, the world seems to scream at me to stay away.
The clouds crack open, and rain trembles to the earth.
I blink the water out of my eyes, staring deep into the ruins. “Come on,” I urge Amalthea. “This way.”
But my mount will have none of it. She whinnies frantically and shuffles on the spot.
“Come on. To the ruins,” I say with more command this time, giving the reins a snap for good measure. My horse responds with a desperate bray.
“Fine then.” I slip off, pulling my pack with me. Somehow, I know I’ve found what I’m looking for.
As soon as I’m on the ground, Amalthea turns and sprints away from the ruins.
I shiver in the growing downpour. With only the wild realmlands surrounding me, I am truly alone.
Taking careful steps, I make my way over to Nymphia’s ancient shrine. A putrid smell wafts through the air, the stench of decay and molding earth. I gag and cover my mouth. It’s like I can taste it, an acrid metallic tang of blood and rot that clings to my tongue. What is that?
I step into the ruins, my travel boots sinking into the layer of water pooling on the stony ground. “Farron?” I whisper, but my voice has no power.
Then I hear it: deep, guttural breathing like the bellows of a roaring fire. My heart hammers against my ribs, and my mouth has gone dry. I tuck my body tight to a pillar and peek around.
And there he is. The beast of Autumn.
Farron.
My hands lurch to my lips to cover my scream. Because despite it being day, the fae man is nowhere in sight. There’s not even the usual brown wolf I’ve become accustomed to.
There is only a monster.
This wolf is a repulsive behemoth of death and decay. Matted fur the color of rusted iron bristles with each ragged breath. Rotten chunks of apple and pear tangle in its coat, their sickly scent mixing with the other stenches. Cobwebs stretch across the mass of his body, and I swear I see the skitter of bugs around his ears. Patches of molding leaves create a hideous tapestry over its face.
I swallow down vomit, my fingers gripping tightly into the stone so I don’t fall apart. Where is he? Where is Farron?
Maybe the grief was too much. Maybe it was his own self-loathing. Or maybe his rose has finally given up. But this monster is not my Farron.
I need to get out of here before it sees me. My calf throbs from a long-healed wound. I saw what it did to Dayton, and there is no one here to save me if the beast sets its sights on me. Slowly, I creep away from the pillar.
I’m nearly out of the ruins when something blue flashes in my peripheral. That invisible tether snaps taut in my chest, and I turn one last time to stare at the beast.
It’s staring back at me.
I stumble away. The eyes are deep amber, like smoldering embers in a fire, and they flicker with fierce intelligence.
The wolf prowls to its feet, revealing its true size. Farron’s form before had been but a dog compared to this creature; in fact, now it would overshadow even Kel’s giant wolf.
It lowers its head and bares its sharp fangs, the face of pure predatory evil. Its body shakes with a deep and primal hunger. I am paralyzed in its wake, unable to stop as it measures me against some wild and unknowable standard.
Maybe… Maybe he’s still in there.
“Farron,” I whisper. “It’s me.” My voice is barely audible over the pounding rain. Huge, hot clouds of breath shudder out of its maw.
It was a mistake to come here. I thought I could be brave. I thought I could save him.
But there’s nothing left to be saved.
I turn on my heel, water splashing up, and sprint from the ruins.
A howl sounds behind me, loud enough to send pebbles skittering over the stony ground. If I can get to the Emberwood, maybe I can hide among the trees.
The wolf’s thundering gait pounds in my ears, but I can’t turn around. I run across the grasslands, ribs aching with the force of my heart. My fear threatens to paralyze me, but I can’t let it. I have to keep running, keep moving, or I’ll die.
My legs burn, and I swear my lungs may burst before I reach the treeline. I dare a look back to see the great beast snarling down the hill, teeth shimmering with saliva.
Its fetid scent drags closer, and I throw myself into the forest, pushing bracken and bushes out of my way. With the storm clouds and the towering trees, the forest is dark, and branches pull at my braid and clothes.
The wolf charges behind me, eyes wild with hunger. Brush flattens beneath its great weight, and it has no care for the bushes that snag its fur. It is made entirely of coiled muscle and sinew, and if I don’t think of something quick, I’ll be dead.
I dodge between trees, jumping over fallen logs and dipping under low-hanging branches. A scream pulls at the edges of my throat, but there’s no one to hear me. I need every precious breath. The wolf is close, too close, its rancid breath heating the back of my neck.
Never in my life have I ever run so fast: the forest is a kaleidoscope, trees whipping past, their leaves rustling in a chorus of warning.
My legs will tire. My lungs will give out.
He will keep hunting me until I am claimed.
The trees condense to a thicket ahead. Briars have sheltered me before; perhaps I can lose the beast in the dense underbrush. With a desperate cry, I fling myself into a small gap in the brambles. I belly crawl deep into the tangle of thorns, ignoring the pain as they scrape along my cheeks and hands.
A frustrated growl sounds as the wolf snaps at the entrance, its colossal shape hindered by the briars. It pulls out and stares at me with an intensity beyond any animal, as if to say, I will have you.
My whole body thuds with my rapid heartbeat. To my left, the brambles shake with thundering steps, and a powerful sniff sounds. It’s searching the thicket for a way in.
Tears and blood stream down my face. No, no. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was meant to find Farron. My Farron. Not this beast that has stolen his body and soul.
I clasp my knees and curl up. What else is left? The beast has taken Farron, and it will take me too. I’ll never find him, never see that sweet smile again or hear his laugh or spend another moment in his quiet company.
He’ll be lost forever in the dark, trapped inside the rage and desolation of the beast. He’ll never realize what he’s capable of. How there is strength in stillness. How peace is his power.
My body shakes, but it’s not from fear. It’s from anger. My hands grip the wet ground, and I stare up into the brambles, letting the rain that filters through splatter my face.
“Who are you to judge him?” I whisper into the void, speaking to the Enchantress wherever she may be. “How can you say his heart deserves this curse when you have not seen how he struggles each day to be worthy of his realm? When you have not heard the kindness in his voice when he speaks to his family, both his blood and his chosen? When you have not felt what it is to be loved by him?”
Now, my voice is not a whisper. I don’t care if the wolf hears. Let him. Let the whole damn realm hear me. I push to my hands and knees, eyes wide and focused.
That aching thing inside my chest reverberates like sparks cracking from a hearth. Farron. He’s here somewhere, and he’s alone and lost and scared.
I will show him that the fire burns within us. I will show myself.
I creep out from the brambles and stand up among the rain-drenched woods. The wolf digs at the end of the thicket but straightens as it sees me. It bares its maw in a vicious snarl.
That blue light from earlier flashes in my vision again. Moving with graceful fluidity, a shimmering will-o’-wisp dances through the air between us.
I realize why it’s here.
“I know you’re there, Farron,” I say. “I’ve come to find you. I will always find you. And I’m not frightened. You don’t have to be either.”
The wolf growls and snaps at the will-o’-wisp that flutters around its snout.
“You and I are alike, Fare. The world has always been too big for us, hasn’t it? Too loud. Too bright. But when we’re together, I can face the whole damned realm and everyone in it. Because you are my strength. You are my courage. I feel it here, within my chest.” I clutch at my heart, reveling in its steady beat. “My fire is within. I’ve always been afraid to see what happens when it burns. But I will light the whole world up for you.” I take a step toward him, chin held high. “I will light up for you.”
The beast lowers its head to the ground, stalking forward. Something flashes in its golden eyes. Eyes I know so well. Eyes that I love.
Blue light surrounds me. More will-o’-wisps. They paint my body with shimmering light. A single teardrop whispers down my face, but I’ve never felt stronger. “The fires of your heart cannot burn me, Farron. I have felt their warmth, and I would have them engulf me.”
The wolf lunges, and so do I. I wrap my arms around its massive neck, letting it tackle me to the ground. My face burrows into its fur. I barely notice the putrid scent or the sticky feel of rotten leaves on my fingertips. All I care about is that he’s in my arms.
“I love you, Farron,” I whisper. “I love you.”
At first, there is only the wolf’s guttural snarl, its hot breath on my skin, the pounding rain.
And then there is a spark.
It shudders through me, shifting and twisting, that invisible tether that’s been guiding me all morning. The wolf pulls back to stare at me, gaze wild but in a different way than before. More will-o’-wisps descend, now covering the wolf, too. A glow burns within my skin, calling to a kindred flame.
To the wolf’s flame.
Farron’s flame.
His body shimmers and shivers, the fur becoming flesh, claws to tender hands. All the while, the eyes remain the same. Magic ignites around us, and I can hear our hearts like a chorus: not separate, but a single entity, beating stronger than I’ve ever heard.
Farron’s fae body collapses against mine, still covered by the will-o’-wisps. Through their wavering blue flames, I see something that makes my heart take flight.
His body is healed, the wounds of the wolf faded away. And his mate bond… It’s not tangled anymore. It’s bright and beaming and beautiful. A glowing star.
I reach for him, and the will-o’-wisps disperse, their movements playful as they dance away into the forest. I clutch Farron’s face in my hands, staring at him with eyes that seem to see for the very first time.
Rain slicks his hair to his forehead, runs over his lips.
“You found me,” he finally says.
“No, Farron,” I say, “you found me.”
Farron, High Prince of Autumn and my mate, kisses me. A kiss born from the ashes.