“You aren’t that person, Farron.” I place my hand on the side of his face. “I know your heart better than anyone. The anger there. The sadness. But your goodness will always win.”
A roguish grin crosses his face. “Well, I can be a beast when I want to be.”
I lift up on my toes to kiss his mouth. “Don’t give me that look, or I’ll never leave.”
“Ez better take good care of you.”
Regretfully, I pull away from my mate’s strong embrace. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Something shifts in Farron’s gaze, a look of longing. I love you, he says in my mind.
In the starlight way, I say back.
Be safe.
I promise.
I force a smile as I leave the library, knowing in the world of the fae, this is never a promise I can keep.
70
Rosalina
The humidity hits me as I enter the conservatory. It’s built at the back of Keep Hammergarden. The air is alive with the delicate flutter of wings as butterflies in every shade of the rainbow flit from flower to tree to fern. I inhale the sweet fragrance. Despite all the turmoil of the last few days, I’ve missed the Spring Realm.
Ezryn and I arrived at the keep only an hour ago. Astrid and Marigold found me right away. Thankfully, they’re all right—besides their worry over me and the princes. I assured them that Ezryn and I were fine, and Kel, Dayton, and Farron were safe at home, using their magic to restore Castletree. As much as I wanted to fill them in on everything, I had noticed Ezryn wander off, his usual silence especially heavy this morning.
We never talked about what happened by the lake. Even though I’d only glimpsed the pollen-induced vision of Ezryn’s nightmare, the memory still shakes me to my core: Princess Isidora’s keening cry as she sunk to her knees and Ezryn’s body shaking with uncontrolled power.
I can’t imagine what it’s been like living with that for so long.
The room is bright, sunlight filtering through the glass ceiling and over the translucent wings of the butterflies. I feel like I’m walking through a tropical oasis. Extending my hand, the velvety touch of a butterfly whispers along my fingertips. Its tiny feet tickle my skin. I bring it closer, examining the myriad of pinks and reds that make up its wings.
It flits off, dancing further into the conservatory. I follow behind. At the very back of the room is an elevated pond bordered by rocks that shine with the opalescence of a pearl.
Most magnificent of all is the man who sits on the edge, as straight-backed and still as the stone itself. He’s so calm, the butterflies have flocked to him, landing on his armor. There’s so many of them, it almost appears as if he’s made of butterflies.
As quietly as I can, I take a seat on the edge of the pond beside him. I inhale and try to match his stillness and posture: hands on my knees, shoulders back. One of the butterflies flaps over from him and lands on my knee.
“You found me,” Ezryn murmurs.
“Marigold said you might come here.”
His chest rises and falls, the butterflies across his torso fluttering with the movement. A couple more flit my way. “I need to make a decision on how to best guide Spring. My mother used to sit in here before she ever settled on her course.”
A part of me thinks I should leave him to his own thoughts. But isn’t that what he’s had to do all these years? Process everything on his own? “Ezryn, we need to talk about what we saw by the lake.”
His chest stops moving.
I turn to face him square on, scattering the few butterflies I’ve collected. “Some of the hallucinations were memories, weren’t they? The one we saw together … That was your past.”
“I wanted to tell you the truth,” he says. “I was going to explain everything that night. That’s why I took you to the lake. You’re right—what we saw wasn’t some nightmare. It’s my history.”
The moist air fills my lungs with each breath. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how hard that was to relive.”
“Do you understand what happened there, Rosalina?” Slowly, he tilts his head to me. None of the colorful butterflies leave. “Everyone in Spring thinks my mother died when she passed the Blessing to me. That’s not true. She was alive and healthy afterward. It was me who ruined it.”
“Ezryn—”
“As soon as the Blessing came to me, I knew it was wrong. I was powerless to control it. Imagine if a maelstrom exploded from your chest—that’s what happened. I couldn’t leash it. Everything felt violent and unstoppable.” His hands clench into fists. “It wasn’t the passing of the Blessing that killed her. It was me.”