Kairyn stumbles backward. I twist and snag him by the front of his breastplate. He nods in thanks.
I turn back around, but Kairyn cries: “Watch out!”
A rotten log sails through the wind. I don’t have time to react before it strikes both of us. We roll, tumbling over one another. Armor and ground and debris crash into me. I completely lose orientation of up and down. An attempt to stand only sends me spiraling to the ground. The gale is too strong. I force my eyes open and see Kairyn a little behind me, lying on his stomach.
“Kai!” I yell.
He quivers and pushes up to all fours before staring at me. A huge crack runs down the front of his helm. Though his face is still shrouded, I catch the barest glimpse of skin along his forehead.
I stretch my whole arm toward him. “Take my hand!”
Somehow, fear seems to flicker across the cracked owl’s mask. “We must turn back. There’s no getting through the storm!”
“He’s your brother,” I call.
Kairyn shakes his helm. “It will be the death of us.”
I hold the gaze of the owl helm, my own pleading. “Kairyn! Take my hand!”
The boy quivers, frozen in place. He’s terrified. Terrified of his own brother.
But I will not bend to any maelstrom, and I shall not let Ezryn face it alone. My expression transforms into a sneer as I turn away from Kairyn. “Then so be it.”
I leave Kairyn behind, now crawling forward. I cry out with the wind, letting it rip my clothes, my hair, my flesh. It cannot tear my resolve.
The eye gets closer, Ezryn’s huddled form visible between the breaks in flying wreckage.
“Ezryn!” I yell. “Stop this!”
He doesn’t even look up, doesn’t move.
With a desperate cry, I throw my body forward, rolling between two flying logs and landing within the eye.
It’s … so calm. Around us, the wind cyclones, but here, it is deathly quiet. Even serene.
I stand on shaky legs and approach the fae man huddled in the center. It doesn’t look like my brother; my brother is hard and metal and unreadable. This person has wavy brown hair that falls around his pointed ears. And when I crouch before him and gently lift his head, there is so much pain in his dark brown eyes that I feel it myself.
“Brother,” I breathe. “I’m here.”
“Kel?” Ezryn’s voice trembles.
I gesture to the storm. “You don’t need this anymore. I’m going to look after you.”
“It was too much, Kel. Too much. I couldn’t … I hurt everyone.”
I take his face in my hands. A shock passes between our skin. Never did I think our eyes would meet with no barriers. Never did I think I would need to save him.
“We’re going to figure this out together,” I tell him. “Trust me, Ez.”
Ezryn curls over, a keening sound prying out from him. “I stopped it. I stopped it from happening.”
“Stopped what from happening?”
He looks up at me, and tears streak down his face. “I stopped my curse from breaking.”
I suck in a breath, eyes widening. If his curse was going to break…
Rosalina.
Of course.
Of course she would save us all. My Rose’s eternal love has no limits.
I don’t understand the implications of Ezryn not allowing his curse to break or what it means that I have witnessed his face.
But I do know one thing.
I will weather this storm with him.
Kneeling beside him, I place my hands on his jaw and bring his forehead to my lips. A kiss of honor. Of loyalty. Of brotherhood.
“I’m not going to let you hurt anyone, Ezryn,” I say against his skin. “This, I vow.”
His body shakes, then stills. A howl sounds from somewhere both close by and far away, then drifts to silence.
The storm rests.
I breathe in a sigh of relief, collapsing my forehead on his shoulder. He’s safe—
“Kel! Watch out!”
Rosalina’s voice. But it’s too late. Rough hands snatch my shoulders, yanking me away from Ez. I growl and thrash. Two Spring soldiers hold me back. I could easily freeze their bones to brittle, but they’re still Ezryn’s men. “Let me go.”
The rest of the force surrounds Ezryn, weapons pointed at him. One steps forward, clinking manacles on his hands. “High Prince Ezryn, you are hereby under arrest for the breaking of our ancient creed and the murder of three members of the Spring Realm guard.”
“Stop!” Rosalina cries. She bolts out of the treeline, movements weak and stumbly. The princes follow, with Dayton being mostly supported on Farron’s shoulder.