Chapter 30 Keldarion
Keldarion
Rosalina laughs as she stumbles through the snow, my boots much too big for her.
In fact, she looks a little ridiculous, dressed head to toe in my tundra gear: a thick coat of mottled gray and black hide, heavy pants we’ve had to tighten with a belt, and a woolen hat tucked over her pointed ears.
The gloves too are oversize, but she keeps hold of me regardless.
Even after everything I’ve done, she won’t let me go.
Under the half-moon, I remain a man while she touches me.
We’ve crept out of my tent and walked out of camp.
The Tundrafolk are early risers, and the camp is quiet as everyone has retired to their own tents.
I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I would get from the citizens of the far reaches of Winter, but it was surprisingly warmer than those in Frostfang.
It seems the closer people were to my father, the more they resent his absence and my presence.
With the camp behind us, there is only the snow and sky ahead. A flat plain sparkles, gleaming blue underneath the half-moon. It looks as if the cosmos has opened up and rained diamonds. From beyond the glittering snowscape, a navy canopy dotted with light hangs overhead.
“There are so many stars,” Rosalina breathes, clutching me tightly. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“I’ve traveled to the reaches of all the realms and never found a better place to see them. I doubt they could be lovelier even from the Above.”
Though Winter is often admonished for its constant cold and barren wilderness, no realm could match this. Stars litter the sky, thousands and thousands of hanging gems. Out here, it may be cold, but it’s not dark.
Like most of the Tundrafolk’s clothing, Rose’s coat is woven in such a way she practically disappears into her surroundings. But her face is lit up, radiating with starlight.
“It seems so open out here compared to within the walls of Keep Wolfhelm,” she says.
A sound rumbles in my throat, and I’m unsure how to respond. She’s right. Keep Wolfhelm feels more cloistered than ever.
“My father built those walls out of fear. He believed they kept him safe. But I think they made him more afraid,” I say quietly.
“So many times, I have been compared to my father. His appearance. His mannerisms. But I could never see the similarities. Never felt like I measured up. But in this, I know we are the same. We build our walls, and we hide behind them as best we can. At least my father’s walls are visible. ”
“Look around, Kel. This is your realm. The vastness, the wildness…your father saw it as a vulnerability. But what do you see?”
I take a shuddering breath, letting the cold air cleanse me. “Strength. We are not meant to hide. Winter is wild.”
The hand that isn’t clutching my arm comes to my face, and Rosalina brushes a gloved fingertip across my jaw. “You’re not your father, Kel. You don’t need to inherit his fears.”
I am not my father. The words that once felt like a condemnation now feel like…words. A simple truth. Hiding within Castletree. Hiding behind Wolfhelm’s walls. Hiding from her.
“Rosalina,” I say lowly, holding her gaze, “after we kill Sira, I will break my curse. I promise you.”
She smiles, then nods. I know she wishes I would do this before we make our move against Sira, but this is as much of a compromise as I can allow.
I am not my father, and Caspian is not his mother.
Perhaps our fates will change upon her death.
With Sira’s demise, the vision I was shown in the labyrinth may never come to pass.
It is as close to trust as I can offer Caspian.
“Whenever you’re ready, Kel,” Rosalina says, “I’ll be wait—oh!” She jerks away from me, nearly losing grip on my arm.
“What is it?”
Her eyes are wide, and her mouth drops into an O. “The sky…”
A smile crooks up the side of my face, and I wrap my arms around her, never losing contact, so I’m at her back and she’s facing outward. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “This is why I wanted you here tonight. It only happens once a decade.”
Brilliant streaks of white flash against the ink-blue sky. First there’s one here, then another there. Then a cascade of light follows.
The stars are falling.
They’re spiraling, spinning, ribbons of light, each one brighter than the last. Clouds of air puff out in front of Rosalina, her breathing rapid. “They’re dancing,” she whispers and holds out her hand, trying to trace the patterns of molten silver.
This is what I wanted to show her. Many times, I have sat under the falling sky, but never have I shared it. Does she like it? Does she feel it was worth it to be dragged out into the cold? My heart pounds against my ribs, as if it too wants to rise and join the falling stars.
Rosalina tilts her head back, eyes wide and bright, the shooting stars reflecting in her gaze. The chill flushes her cheeks. She puts her hands over mine, wrapped around her, and leans into me. “The stars are alive.”
“They are,” I whisper. “For the briefest moment. Just long enough to matter.”
She turns in my arms, gaze looking up at me, lips slightly parted, as though she’s about to say something. But then another star streaks across the sky, brighter than the rest, and her attention shifts back upward. I follow her gaze, though I know what I’ll see. I’ve seen it a hundred times before.
But tonight, it feels different.
“It’s so beautiful,” she says, her voice catching on the last word, like it’s too much to hold.
“They always are,” I say, softer now, “but I’ve never seen them as radiant as this before.”
She looks at me then, really looks, and for a moment, the stars seem to pause, caught between their descent and her gaze. The light of the heavens reflects in her eyes, and I wonder if the universe itself might envy her.
A laugh bubbles up in her chest as she looks back to the sky. “My father used to tell me that stars were lanterns hung by a giant. Imagine my embarrassment when I said that out loud in school and it turns out they’re just giant balls of gas.”
I chuckle. “Balls of gas? That’s even stranger than a giant’s lanterns.”
She raises a brow. “What do you think they are?”
“The stars are great, glowing masses of rock, covered in ice. They orbit the Above, way up high in the cosmos. Every so often, one of the stars will fall to the Vale. Within the stone, there can sometimes be found a powerful ore, known in the ancient language as mythkarite. It is said to be so infused with the magic of the Above that it can be crafted into relics of incredible power.”
“Like the weapons wielded by the high rulers,” she breathes.
“Yes, our weapons are infused with it. In fact, it’s said your mother took her most trusted advisors, those destined to be the first high rulers, and searched the Vale for ore that had fallen to the earth. Rafael of Spring was able to combine the mythkarite with steel to forge the divine weapons.”
“Amazing.” Her face is full of wonder, and a smile appears on her lips. “So in the Vale, you can really touch the stars.” She reaches up, as if she could pluck one of the stars from the sky.
I squeeze her, making her laugh, then kiss the cold skin below her ear. “Which one do you like? I’ll bring it down for you.”
She keeps laughing, twisting around to face me and looping her arms over my neck. Our gazes meet, her warm brown eyes sparkling.
“I’d bring the stars down for you,” I promise.
She presses against me, head tilted up, and our lips meet, warm breath mingling. I pull her tight, kissing her like it’s the first time. It is, in a way, under this new sky.
My body heats from her touch, her kiss like sunlight. When she pulls away, the star-drenched horizon crowning her hair, I have to catch my breath at the sight of her.
“Thank you, Kel, for showing me this part of your world.”
It belongs to you, I think. You are in possession of every part of me. So then, Winter is yours.
Before I can speak, a silhouette appears behind her: two large wings, a round head, and talons. I tuck Rosalina close to my side. “A messenger.”
The snowy owl swoops down before us, hovering with great flaps of its wings.
“There’s a letter tied to its leg,” Rose says and reaches forward with one hand to loosen the knot. She pulls off a piece of parchment and hands it to me. The snowy owl soars back into the sky.
“This is my uncle’s seal,” I say. Rosalina squeezes my arm, and a sense of trepidation runs through me. What is so urgent he sent word overnight?
I unfurl the parchment and read my uncle’s shaky scrawl by the half-moon’s light.
“What is it?” Rosalina breathes.
“It’s the tunnels Caspian uncovered within the chasm,” I say. “They found a war camp filled with horned fae. Rose, the enemy is mobilizing for battle.”