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Forged by Malice (Beasts of the Briar, #3)(30)

Author:Elizabeth Helen

He smiles at me, and I hold on to that. I never admitted my sin to him or Marigold, but after my mother’s death, they looked at me as if they knew the truth and forgave me anyway.

A forgiveness I do not deserve.

“—never seen her before.”

Voices filter up from below the rampart, and I look down. We’ve wandered nearly all the way along the keep and have arrived above the gates. The two guards standing watch are jabbering at each other—a lack of duty my father would never have stood for.

I, however, cannot be bothered when my mind is so full—

“Pretty thing, ain’t she?”

“Looks like a village maiden. You know the type. Not much going on between the ears, eh?”

I roll my eyes. The two guards are nattering on about a woman. Not only a lack of duty, but a lack of chivalry as well.

One of the guards lets out a howling laugh. “That’s how I like them! It’s not what’s between the ears, but what you can stick between their legs.”

“Come on, Eldy,” I say. “Let’s head down to the gate. It appears our soldiers need reminding about the meaning of vigilance.”

But Eldy’s not listening to me. His eyes are cast over the ramparts, chest heaving. “I-It’s her. She’s returned!”

I follow his gaze to see two fae women examining a cluster of bright red buds, the same as in the throne room.

It can’t be. For it appears to be Astrid and Marigold.

“Marigold has come back,” Eldy whispers.

Before my mind catches up to what Astrid and Marigold being here means—or what is sure to be another dramatic tirade in the ongoing chronicles of Eldy and Marigold’s love affair—one of the guard’s voices echoes up to me: “All right then. If you’re so confident, off you go then. Go show that village hayseed just what you’ve got.”

“Why not?” One of the guards drops his lance and steps out from his post. He starts walking along the wall.

Not toward Astrid or Marigold.

But if they’re here…

Who are the guards looking at?

I practically throw my upper body over the ramparts, staring down so I can see the edge of the wall.

And there she is, standing still and straight, hands clasped before her pretty pink dress, expression completely lost in a daydream.

My Petal.

Damn the stairs. Damn gravity itself.

I leap over the side of the barrier and land in a harsh clatter right in front of Rosalina. The guard jerks to a halt, and Rosalina gives a peep. I bring one arm up and slam my fist on the wall over Rosalina’s head. Slowly, I turn toward the scum, holding him in the darkest glare I can muster through my visor.

I don’t say a word. I don’t have to.

“H-High Prince!” the guard yelps, staggering backward. “I was…”

“Leaving,” I growl. “And take him with you.” I gesture to the guard who’s holding his lance so tight it looks like he’d fall to the ground without it.

“Of course, sire! Right away!” The guard turns on his heel and disappears through the gate.

I let loose a huge exhale, relax my body, and look down.

Rosalina’s staring up at me, doe-eyed and breathless.

My cheeks suddenly heat, and I drop my arm from over her head, instead clutching the back of my neck. “Sorry about that.”

Rosalina’s still staring at me with those shimmering eyes, her lips parted in an O. Then she shakes her head, and a beautiful smile crosses her face. “Ezryn! You found me.”

My words feel caught in my throat. When I don’t say anything, she cups the side of my helm and tilts it to look at her. I place my hand over hers. “I always will.”

There’s something in the heave of her chest, the curiosity in her expression as she stares at me.

“What is it, Petal?” I whisper.

“I suppose,” she pauses, “I’m just happy to see you.”

A smile crests my lips.

A smile she’ll never see, Kairyn sneers in my mind. I grit my teeth until his laughter stops.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Oh!” She grabs my hand. “Ezryn, it’s Castletree. Goblins attacked it. And they were wielding Spring steel.”

15

Caspian

There’s a list in my head of all the things that frighten me, with losing to Ezryn at a board game and finally inheriting my birthright being near the top. Being summoned to the Abyssal Sanctum fits snugly between them.

I pause briefly outside the iron doors and stretch my calf. My leg is almost healed, but I can’t let a single tremor show. Any sign of weakness would be especially problematic, as this is the first time I’ve been called upon since enduring my punishment for losing Autumn.

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