Chapter 5
Rosalina
Even the icy chill of the Winter Realm can’t chase the heat from my face. It’s been a few hours since I left Kel’s room, but I’m still seething. Storming out of the main building, I cross through the courtyard at the back of Keep Wolfhelm.
Kel makes me want to scream. What is it about him that infuriates me to no end? Let’s see. He’s stubborn. Pigheaded. Callous. Possessive. How could I even begin to explain Caspian is my mate when Kel is so convinced Cas is evil incarnate? How can he not see what I see?
He’s hurting, I think. He’s scared to love Cas again. Scared to love anyone again. Quickly, I push the thought away. I’m tired of being empathetic, of taking on everyone else’s problems. Let Kel sulk. Mate or not, he doesn’t control me.
And once the other princes arrive, I know I’ll have their support.
That thought, at least, sends a glimmer of warmth through my body. My heart swells. They’re close. I can feel my bonds, strong and radiant, right beside my heart. Even Dayton’s.
I don’t know what miracle brought him back to me, but whatever it is, I’ll forever be grateful.
I picture Dayton, Ez, and Farron arriving—reuniting with them all.
The five of us, back together again. It’s been so long.
I can imagine Dayton’s brilliant smile, the dark pools of Ezryn’s eyes, and the shimmer of copper in Farron’s auburn hair.
Kel crossing his arms and looking at me, up and down, a satisfied rumble in his chest—
“Ugh!” I kick a snowdrift. I can still be mad at him, even if I crave the feel of his body.
One of Wolfhelm’s staff members found me pacing the halls earlier, muttering curses about Kel under my breath, and offered me a room in the guests’ quarters.
It was stunning, complete with a fire already stoked, huge windows that look out over the walls to the horizon beyond, woven tapestries adorning the stone walls, and a plush four-poster bed.
It will do until Kel decides to throw me in a cell.
I sigh. Of course, I know Kel won’t actually do that.
He was probably the one who sent the lady-in-waiting to find me and offer me a room.
And most likely the one who made sure the wardrobe was stocked with dozens of beautiful dresses.
I pull the white fur cloak tighter around me and swish the skirts of my gossamer gown. Marigold and Astrid would love this.
My chest tightens. I can’t wait to go back to Castletree and see my friends. See home again.
But there’s someone I want to visit first.
I pass by glorious sculptures carved of ice: prancing deer, whales leaping out of foaming water, and dancing fae.
Just as my lady-in-waiting had said, a small building sits at the very back of the courtyard.
It’s square and made of stone, like most of the buildings here in Frostfang, though there are no windows.
I rap my knuckles on the wooden door, but there’s no answer.
Cracking it open, I step inside. It’s warm, even without a fireplace.
I feel heat radiating off the copper pipes that run along the walls and ceiling.
Metal and herbs scent the air; it’s a snow-dusted, sharp smell like the frozen pines outside.
Racks of delicate glass jars line one side of the room, filled with curious powders, fragments of Winter’s flora, and roots suspended in briny liquid.
I move deeper inside, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Wooden tables are cluttered with scrolls and mortars and pestles. There’s a sense of complete chaos, but of course there is.
This was once Perth Quellos’s laboratory after all.
But it has a new resident now, one who is sitting at the far end of the lab, bent over a workbench.
My father doesn’t look up, intent on whatever he’s crafting.
His fingers, always so steady, move with precision over crystalline pieces.
He mutters something under his breath, too low to catch.
The scene sends a feeling of warmth through me.
This was once a familiar sight, back in Orca Cove.
“You’re supposed to be resting in the medical ward,” I say, crossing my arms and smirking.
Papa looks up, startled. Then his face erupts into an enormous grin. “Rosalina!”
I rush into his arms, squeezing him so tight. I might hate Kel right now, but he kept his promise. He protected my father in the Below.
“I missed you, Papa!”
“I missed you too.” He pulls back and stares at me with a peaceful smile.
“Are you feeling okay?” I place a hand on his forehead. “Have you been woozy? Weak? Do you need water?” The lady-in-waiting informed me he’d been admitted to the medical ward and only woken up recently.
He takes my hand in his. “I’m alright, Rose. I’m not quite myself, but I’m alright. Awake at least! Keldarion, fine lad he is, has been a lot of help.”
I narrow my eyes. “Kel has been a lot of help?”
“His magic. It stops me from…getting lost.”
“Getting lost?”
He taps a finger on his temple. “In here. Being back in the Vale is awakening countless memories long kept buried. I have a temptation to go wandering about them.”
“Papa,” I whisper, “what aren’t you telling me?”
Despite the gray in his hair, the lines on his face, there’s a youthfulness to his features. “Your mother was a determined woman. It seems Castletree and I are…connected.”
Breath rushes out of me. “The sicker Castletree gets…”
“The more I seem to, ah, have trouble existing! But it’s not a thing to worry yourself over. Keldarion looks after me.”
My voice shakes. “The weaker Mom gets, the worse off Castletree is.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t get her out, Rose.” He steadies himself on a chair. “It’s so much more complicated than we thought.”
“What happened down there? Why couldn’t you free her?”
Pain flickers across his features. “She made a bargain,” he rasps. “With Sira.”
“No. How could she? Why would she?”
“To tie my life to Castletree. So I wouldn’t die a mortal’s death. It’s impossible to break the bargain.”
“There’s always a way to break a bargain,” I say, the words coming out as a snarl. “What was it? The bargain?”
My father looks up at the sky, as if praying for strength to say the words. “If ever she were to love anyone more than me, that person would belong to Sira completely: mind, body, and soul.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “She traded her freedom for yours, Rosie.”
My legs feel weak, and I swear the lab is spinning. No, no, I won’t let anything break me. Not anymore.
I see now my mother is as naive as I was. She let compassion rule her, and look what became of her. Of the Vale.
“I’ll think of something” is all I can manage. “We won’t stop, Papa. Not until she’s free and Sira’s paid for what she’s done to our family.”
Papa tucks a curl behind my ear. “As brave as your mother.”
I feel like I might break down, but I’ve cried so many tears, there can’t be any left. I shake my head, gaze catching on the red crystalline shards on Papa’s workbench. “So what is this?”
Papa must be tired from all the sadness too, because he takes my bait, pulling his chair up to the workbench and motioning for me to look. “This is a rose from the Gardens of Ithilias.” His words are full of breathy wonder. “Grown in heaven itself.”
“The Gardens of Ithilias.” I remember Kairyn telling me about them back at Queen’s Reach Monastery. The source of all magic in the Vale. “How is it here?”
“Once thought lost, it was preserved in the tundra. From what I’ve heard, it’s been the cause of conflict between Winter and the Below for centuries.”
“This is the rose Sira stole,” I say, transfixed on the glittering pieces. “What does it do?”
“Well, I’ve just retrieved it from Keldarion and begun working on it.
But as far as my understanding goes, it’s a conduit for the strength of one’s will.
Sira used it to create monsters of her own or transform beings of this world into her twisted creatures.
With it, she could force them to obey her every whim.
But when it was lost, so too was her ability to create anything else.
Some monsters still choose to serve her out of some perverse sense of loyalty. ”
“Like her goblin army Below,” I say.
“Yes, but others run free. From what I hear, the Briar goblins attacking Autumn serve no master. They’re feral.”
“Or the harpies Ezryn faced in Summer.” My chest heaves, eyes darting over the broken pieces. It doesn’t look much like a rose anymore but a shattered mirror.
“Rose, listen to me. We cannot let this fall back into her hands. Who knows what kind of monster she would create with it? Or what she would do if she could rally all her demons that are running loose across the Vale.”
“Then why are we repairing it? Shouldn’t we be breaking it further and scattering the pieces across the four realms so she can never find them?”
Papa is quiet for a long moment, face solemn.
“It’s not only Sira who can use this. Whoever has the rose in their possession can pour their will within it and control whatever has been made from its magic.
” He holds my gaze. “Imagine the legions of Sira’s creations at our command.
We could call off the feral goblins in Autumn.
Order Sira’s own troops to attack her tower in the Below. ”
I turn away, concentrating on the long pipes running across the ceiling. It feels like there’s a rock in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know, Papa. It doesn’t seem right, to control the will of someone else. Even if they are goblins or other monsters. They didn’t ask to be made.”
“I agree with you. I don’t like it either. But what options do we have left? How can we afford to pass up any advantage we have when the fate of the Vale is at stake?” He grabs my wrist. “This isn’t about my life. You know as well as I do if Castletree falls, the realms fall with it.”
The rock only seems to get heavier. I squeeze my eyes shut and nod. No more compassion for monsters, Rosie. That’s how people get killed. “So what are you doing here?” I gesture to the broken shards.
A twinkle appears in Papa’s eyes, and a bit of that unease inside me loosens to see him light up.
“It’s incredible. This rose…it’s not fully organic matter, but it’s not all inorganic matter either.
See how when I slide two little pieces together, those tiny tendrils pop out and fuse?
All on its own! Yet here, it’s more like ore.
It needs heat to meld.” He shakes his head incredulously.
“Absolutely fascinating. But I need to piece it back together. It’s tedious stuff. I can’t mess up.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “You’re incredible, Papa. Winter is lucky to have you here. I’ll let you get back to your work.”
I head toward the doorway.
“Rosie?”
Turning, I see Papa is standing, twisting his hands together, eyes shifting from side to side. “Yes, Papa?”
“Do you…do you know Wrenley?”
A cold prickle races up my spine. My father’s gaze meets mine, and mutual understanding flickers between us. He knows he has another daughter, and he sees in my face I know about my sister.
Papa clears his throat. “What is she like?”
I still every muscle in my entire body, no choice but to weather the memories roaring over me like an avalanche. What is Wrenley like?
A liar. A villain. A murderer.
I wanted to love her. No, not wanted to. I had loved her. In that moment, when we stood knee-deep in water in the colosseum, all I cared about was the pain etched across her face and the desire to take it away. My heart was weak with pity.
I can save her, I had thought. My love can save her.
Hah. Rosalina and her savior complex. My own arrogance disgusts me.
Love can’t fix everything. It hadn’t fixed Ezryn when he wouldn’t break his curse.
It hadn’t saved Cas from getting stabbed with briars.
And it sure as hell hasn’t helped Keldarion.
Who did I think I was, believing my pathetic love would change Wrenley?
Is my mother’s bargain what allows Sira to control her?
That flood of darkness that washed over her when she picked up the bow?
Even so, a thousand choices led her to that moment on the rooftop where she held my bow and drew it, arrow pointed at Dayton’s heart.
If I hadn’t saved Wrenley’s life, she never would have fired.
Dayton never would have died.
“Papa,” I whisper, “Wrenley is—”
“It’s okay, Rose.” He interrupts me. “Actually, I think I’d like to find out for myself.”
I sigh. There’s no way I’ll let Wrenley near any member of my family ever again, but I can’t tell Papa that. He’s faced enough heartbreak in recent days.
Instead, I walk to him and squeeze him one more time.
Heading out of the lab and across the courtyard, I’m grateful for the icy breeze. Tears freeze in the corners of my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.
I should be thankful for my sister. She taught me one thing.
The old Rosalina died when Wrenley shot Dayton. A new Rosalina has been born, and she will not break for anyone.