He clasps his hand over my mouth, and I bite down on his palm. He’s not finished with me.
He drives deeper, harder, hands sweeping from my face, over my breasts, finally gripping my hips. His fingertips dig into my flesh as he slams into me again and again and again. I lose all sense of myself, becoming nothing but a wild thing. Tears streaming down my cheeks, I clutch him with everything I am.
Needing to become his. Needing to scream out the fear, the confusion, the power that radiates through me.
His head tilts, powerful muscles in his neck straining, dark brown hair wild. And I cannot hold back this wave anymore. I feel his crest within me.
My inner muscles clench tightly, then ripple in a wave of blazing heat against his pounding cock.
“Rosalina.” He groans my name long and loud as he feels me pulse around him. Then he slams hard, releasing himself. I gasp, feeling his warmth fill me deep.
His weight collapses over me. I wrap my arms around him, vowing to never let him go.
I didn’t want to put on my tattered gown, so I opted instead for an undershift from one of the robes we found in a closet. Ezryn, his own clothes tattered, wears the white long-sleeve shirt and dark gray pants of the acolytes.
“How are your injuries?” he asks.
“I’ll be all right, the bow healed me,” I whisper. Before he can pull away, I cup his face in my hands. His ears are raw and red, the points jagged flesh. But there’s nothing to be done about that now. “You are my mate, and I love you. We have bonded again. But your curse didn’t break.”
He’s silent for a moment. It had almost broken at Sylvanita Lake. The rush of magic, the unfettered power of the High Prince of Spring … It had been too close to the memory of when he received his Blessing. My heart aches, imagining the pain and grief he must have felt.
But now that he’s passed on his Blessing, he shouldn’t have to worry about that supercharging of power.
Yet, his curse did not break.
Ezryn turns away. “I do not deserve to have my curse broken.”
Perhaps it’s not just the Enchantress’s magic that must be satisfied.
My mother’s magic, I think.
A chill wraps around me like a cloak as I turn to the Bow of Radiance lying on the ground. Papa had always painted my mother as compassionate. So why would she curse the princes and put the Enchanted Vale at risk? And the biggest question of all: Where are you now? Why didn’t she return to me and Papa?
I sling the bow on my back. Ezryn stands beside the body of the Turquoise Knight, the token of the Summer Prince in his hand. He walks to me and places it around my neck. “For safekeeping until we return it to Dayton.”
I press my hand over the shell, nodding. My eyes glisten, thinking of the other princes. “Can you feel them, too? Kel and Farron?” I ask.
“I can. They’re alive.”
The thought comforts me. I turn to the trident on the ground. “We can’t leave this here.”
“No. We cannot permit the enemy to possess these weapons.”
“Going to be heavy for me to carry around,” I say. But as my fingers graze the trident, it changes to a beam of light and streaks into the necklace.
Ezryn kneels beside me. “The tokens and the weapons are intertwined. During wartimes, this ensured the Queen’s chosen always had a way to protect themselves.”
“But Kel always kept the Sword of the Protector under his bed.” A pretty stupid hiding spot, figuring my drunk ass and a bunch of goblins were able to find it.
Ezryn takes a deep breath. “The sword represented a lot of things to Kel. Things he wasn’t ready to carry with him at all times.”
I nod and rise to my feet. “We need to find the others.”
We make our way to the elevator. It rattles and begins its descent. “Keep your eyes on the mountains.”
I swallow in a dry throat, keeping my eyes fixed on the mountain range beyond. But even with my back turned, it does not block out the smell. Prince of Blood. That’s what the Nightingale had called him. Just how many died so he could save me?
I would do the same to save him. To save any of them.
And as the elevator clangs to a stop at the bottom of the monastery, I know I may have to.
99
Dayton
“Dayton! Day, please wake up.”
An image swirls before me, and I’m not at all surprised by it. Loose brown hair, that heart-shaped face. “Rosie?”
“Please, we don’t have a lot of time,” Rosie says. And her eyes blaze like blue flames. “Take a deep breath.”