Farron had stared at me, his whole body shaking, eyes like pools of amber. “It’s Rosalina,” he’d breathed. “She’s…”
I knew the mate bond was harder to feel when they were in different realms. If Farron—if Kel, even—could feel something was wrong…
Then something was very, very wrong.
The imposing Vernalion Hall greets us as we spin in a circle, catching our bearings. Kairyn runs in, surrounded by a host of soldiers and a few of his acolytes. Wrenley’s with him, and she catches my gaze. Her brow is furrowed with concern.
“Keldarion,” Kairyn breathes. “Farron. Dayton. What are you doing here?”
“Where is she?” Kel growls, storming toward the armored prince. “Where is Rosalina?”
“She’s in danger,” Kairyn says. “Word came she fell into the river. Ezryn went after her. I’m assembling a host of guards and healers right now to find them and assist in any way I can.”
Kel unleashes a growl. “Farron!”
“This way!” Farron cries and takes off, running out of the hall. “I can feel her.”
If he can feel her, it means she’s still alive. I take hold of that thought and don’t let it go. I can’t even think about the possibility that—
Stop it, I chide myself. We’re here now. It’s going to be okay.
Kel and I follow right at Farron’s heels as we sprint out of Keep Hammergarden. I notice we’re not alone—Kairyn’s kept up with us. Stars, he’s got incredible stamina and speed given all that armor.
And it’s not just us—Wrenley’s here, too. Her long robes flow behind her, a desperate look on her face.
We run through Meadowmere Forest where Rosie and I had danced—and made love. Happy memories that seem so far away. Has Ezryn found her? Is she okay? Is he okay? I can’t think about any of it right now—I have to keep moving.
A flash of light cracks in the sky ahead, and then a boom rattles the trees. A thunderstorm. But the sky is clear.
“Up ahead,” Farron says.
Toward the storm. Of course.
We break out of the treeline to an open grove, where a waterfall spills into the lake. Except … the place is destroyed. Dead fish and an oily film mark the water’s surface. The grass is dry and brittle; even the dirt looks covered in decay. And the trees at the very edge are no more than white bones.
In the middle of the grove is a tempest. Dark clouds swirl with a cyclone, carrying branches, rocks, and logs. Lightning cracks, splitting the earth nearby. There’s something in the eye of the storm. A man.
“She’s here somewhere,” Farron croaks, whipping his head back and forth.
Keldarion grabs Kairyn by the cloak and lifts him an inch off the ground. “What the fuck is happening here?”
“I don’t know,” Kairyn growls, breaking free. “Ezryn went after her.”
I haven’t been able to tear my gaze from the man sitting in the center of the storm. He’s curled over, hands dug deep into the earth. But there’s a stillness to him … Something familiar.
“I think,” I murmur, “I think Ezryn is here.”
Wrenley steps forward. “The High Prince of Spring has caused this storm. He’s destroyed the grove.” She turns to Kairyn. “And he has broken his creed.”
Kel, Farron, and I look at each other. No words are needed. We all feel it. That man is our brother.
And he’s in trouble.
A clatter sounds as Spring’s guards enter the grove, weapons drawn. “Prince Kairyn! What are your orders?” one says.
“Stand down,” Kairyn growls.
“He’ll destroy the entire grove if he’s not stopped,” Wrenley urges. “Your Highness.”
“I will stop him,” Kairyn says and looks into the storm.
Kel grabs my shoulder, then Farron’s. “Find Rosalina. Do whatever you must to save her.” His gaze shifts to the tempest. “I will stop Ezryn.”
I turn to Farron. “Lead the way.”
Farron nods, then closes his eyes. I can tell he’s going inward, feeling for the bond that weaves him and Rosalina together.
Kel walks up beside Kairyn. The owl’s mask tilts toward the High Prince of Winter as Kairyn says, “I am going into the storm to save him. I’m his brother.”
Kel sucks in a breath through his nose, then marches into the wind. “We both are. Now, come on.”
82
Farron
The turmoil encircling me fades away. The tempest raging through the grove could be no more than a spring breeze, the clatter of guards distant and unimportant. All that matters is the pull to Rosalina. I run away from the lake, from the torrent of wind spiraling around Ezryn, and toward the base of the huge willow tree.