“No, I wouldn’t,” I say lowly. My hands squeeze into fists. “If all goes as intended integrating Irahn as the new steward, I shall remain at the Voidseal as Warden.”
A heavy silence fills the room. I want him to yell. Want him to attack me.
But I knew this was the most likely outcome: the quiet.
“You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying, Kel,” he whispers.
I take a breath, then, “I am. Irahn is my blood. If he accepts the role of steward and proves himself a worthy leader, I will pass the Blessing of Winter on to him and give up my rule as High Prince.”
A crack of lightning sounds outside, and the clouds roll in again.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, his whisper turning to a snarl. “The Sword of the Protector belongs to you. Your father chose you, not Irahn, to inherit his Blessing. You are meant to bring peace to Winter!”
“I am not meant for anything,” I say. “At least in Irahn’s possession, the Blessing would not be hindered by this curse.”
“A curse you need not bear!” Ezryn storms toward me and shoves my chest. Ah, yes, here it is. That anger. This I can manage.
But Ezryn doesn’t push me again. Instead, he grabs my face, his gloved hands rough against my jaw. “Let me help you, Kel. Let me bring Caspian to justice. I will see him to a quick end, and this bargain would be broken forever. I will go to the Below for you, and he would not feel pain. I can free you and Winter and Rosalina—”
I clasp Ezryn’s wrists and remove them from my face. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Bah!” He shoves past me, then slams a fist against the doorframe. “You know once you pass the Blessing on, it will be gone from you forever. It cannot be returned without great danger to your life.”
“I understand.”
“So, that’s it then. You’ll leave Castletree. Leave Rosalina. Leave us.” Ezryn’s body collapses against the frame. “All to protect the traitor.”
I close my eyes, fighting back the emotion that threatens to consume me. It’s not anger. And for once, not even guilt.
There’s just a sadness that there is no other way to protect those I love.
So, I go to him. I clutch Ezryn around the shoulders and he falls back against me, his breath heavy and uneven. “This is what we do, Ez. For each other. For her. Let it be known, no matter how many times we stumble upon this treacherous path, our resolve shall forever remain unbroken. Each time we fall, we rise again. Do you hear me, brother?”
“Yes,” he whispers. “We will rise.”
I hold him tighter against me. “Now, go to Spring. Reestablish the true rule. Find your mate and break your curse. And claim the glorious destiny that awaits you.”
4
Rosalina
My hand is steady over the grip of the bow, but I can’t seem to stop the pounding of my heart. Breathing deep through my nose, I draw back the string, feeling the tension build. My focus narrows to the target, a stuffed straw goblin with a bullseye painted on its chest.
As I release the arrow, time slows, and for a moment, I think it might finally strike. Then the arrow veers off course, hitting Castletree’s wooden wall.
“Dammit,” I say, lowering the bow and wiping my forehead of sweat. Does everywhere in the Summer Wing need to be so hot? I look around to see if anyone witnessed my failure.
The training hall is large One side hugs tight to Castletree, showing the lovely wooden bark—and snaking thorns—and the other is open air, looking through the branches to the Briar and hills beyond. Beams of sunlight drift over the sandy floor.
Ezryn and Farron are sitting cross-legged in a corner, facing each other. Farron’s palms are skyward as Ezryn hovers his above them. He’s been teaching Farron the art of healing. While the Autumn Realm’s innate magic is fire, Spring’s is rejuvenation. Farron taught Ezryn fire in Autumn, and now Ezryn is passing along his knowledge.
As I stare at them, I understand for a moment why the Queen built this Castle with a piece of each of the realms. Four rulers together with access to each of their homes. United, we are stronger.
There’s a clatter over by the weapons rack, and I whirl to Dayton, stumbling over them. The weapons lean against wooden planks, a collection of swords, lances, bows, and quivers brimming with feathered arrows.
Dayton has made sure I try them all, though I like the bow the best.
“Why did no one tell me there’s a party in the Summer Wing?”
“You’re late,” I say dryly. “Astrid said she told you to be here half an hour ago.” His words are slurred, movements uneven. How much did he need to drink to be this inebriated since arriving back at Castletree?