Time seems to slow. I meet Caspian’s gaze, and there is only surrender there. A goodbye.
An end to it all.
Dusky rays shine in from the open window. Funny how the briars all curve around the sill to let the sun in. A light that’s glinting off his dark eyes now.
I flick my fingers and a blade of ice forms in my palm, and it’s my own sort of surrender. A surrender to the choice I was always going to make.
108
Ezryn
This moment has played out in my mind a thousand times. At last, I will slice through the darkness and purge the rot from the ground. I didn't know which emotion would course through my veins when the time came, but with the Prince of Thorns helpless before me, there is a sense of pure freedom.
This is justice for his torment of Keldarion, his betrayal of the Vale and it will free Rosalina. It is a gift I will give all of us. He doesn’t move, but only closes his eyes as my sword arcs toward his neck.
Steel rings out across the castle, and a shudder ripples through my body as my blade clashes with another. Keldarion stands before me, white hair shrouding his face, but I see his eyes clear enough, full of wild desperation.
Snarling, I push on his blade of ice. “Let me do this for you, brother. Let me free you and our mate of your twisted bargain. Let me help you.” And with every ounce of strength I have, I push down harder and harder on the sword, willing it to break. Willing him to break.
He does not.
“No,” Keldarion says in a low growl. Feet braced on the ground as he pushes back against me with a power that would destroy any ordinary man.
But he doesn’t look behind, doesn’t see Caspian’s gaze cut into mine. A knowing, scheming smirk. Whatever surrender had been there was just another act. He knew Kel would save him.
Snarling, I sever the duel and stagger back. “Ignorant! You are willingly oblivious to his ways and his trickery as you ever were. Stand down, Keldarion. This needs to end.”
Keldarion shakes his head, a look of familiar sorrow and torment. “I can’t.”
“He killed my father. He laid siege on Autumn. And he holds your magic at bay. You can never truly be with Rosalina while blood still runs in his veins.” I pace, looking for an opening between him and Caspian. “You would have me carve a path through you to exact my vengeance?”
Keldarion looks down at his sword and then back at me. “You will do what you must, as will I.”
There has been so much fury in my blood, the feeling of deep sorrow is almost welcome. It clears my mind. Makes my objective clear. I had believed without my creed I would be lost.
But the opposite is true.
It has freed me to see the world as it truly is. To see people as they truly are.
And I will do whatever I need to in order to set her free.
I lower my sword. “Though there is no strike of a blade, you have cut through our brotherhood. It is no more.”
“Ezryn…” Keldarion steps toward me.
“You have made your choice, High Prince of Winter, and I have made mine.” I look past him to Caspian, withering on the floor. “And to you, Prince of Thorns, I leave you a promise. Your death is marked by me. I will claim it. Next time, I will not be merciful to whoever stands in my way.”
“Wait,” Keldarion calls. “What about Rosalina?”
“I will rescue her on my own.” I turn toward the main door, toward the Briar. “Goodbye, Keldarion. You will not see me at Castletree again.”
109
Keldarion
The slam of the door echoes through Castletree. Many times, I have watched Ezryn leave. Many times, I have wondered if he would ever return.
But he always came back.
This time he won’t.
Even the air above me seems too heavy a weight. I collapse to my knees with a resounding thud, ice sword clattering out of my hands and shattering.
A profound sense of loss fills me. For my brother, for Rosalina, to be so truly trapped in this weak and dying shell of Castletree.
There’s a light tug on the front of my shirt as Caspian pulls himself up before me. His eyes narrow and he studies me before wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic.
“Kel,” he says lowly.
I don’t reply. Can’t.
“Keldarion,” he purrs, and his hands rest upon my neck. He leans against me, blinking up with those enormous, violet eyes.
A smile tugs at the edges of his full lips as he draws even closer, then presses those lips against my own.
It’s been decades since he’s kissed me, and yet it’s as if time has simply melted away. The softness of his hair as I grip the back of his neck, the fierce urgency of his hands clutching my shoulders, and the passionate dance of our bodies pressed close together—every sensation, every touch ignites a blaze of longing that defies the long years that have passed.