“Behaving like a child won’t help either of us,” my sister scolds him. She crosses her arms, her slender, jewel-encrusted armor the only color up here in the dark. “We knew Ezryn would return to Spring sooner or later.”
“All I’ve done for my realm,” Kairyn rasps, “and he dismisses me from the throne like I’m some common thief. Now, he is deliberating on my punishment? I’ve saved Spring, and he will not see it!”
I pretend to examine my nails, as if entirely disinterested in their conversation. Truthfully, I am. It was no surprise Ezryn wouldn’t allow Kairyn to keep a stewardship that the High Prince didn’t instigate himself. It’s also no surprise Kairyn’s storming about, puffing out his chest like a fool. He’s been both worshipping the ground Ezryn’s walked on and cursing his every breath since long before I met them.
But the Nightingale’s hovering presence behind him … That’s interesting. Her hand on his arm. The way she’s staring into the dark void of his helm until he turns and stares back. How she’s not wearing her usual mask either, the one that shrouds everything but her sapphire eyes. Now, her hair blows freely in the harsh wind, her mouth in a scowl.
She’s a pretty little thing. A deadly, pretty thing.
Kairyn truly has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.
“He does not see me as an equal,” Kairyn says lowly, though the Nightingale’s hand has steadied him somewhat.
“He sees you as a threat,” she responds. “An act we must mitigate quickly. Your brother needs to trust you. You were a fool to challenge him while he still wields the Blessing of Spring.”
Kairyn pulls away from her. “I can face him!”
“And if you won?” she snarls. “Would you be able to thrust the blade into his heart? Rip the helm from his head? Or are you still happy to walk in his shadow?”
Kairyn says nothing.
I slip from my perch on the windowsill and drift over to these two young fletchlings. “Sira wanted a report. What am I to tell her? Temper tantrums and bickering?”
A growl surges up Kairyn’s throat, and he makes a move to come at me, but the Nightingale grabs his arm. “Now, now, Kairyn. My sweet brother has never been a man of patience. What I have crafted here in Spring is something of beauty. Not like that sloppy goblin raid you organized on Autumn. Apparently, Autumn is thriving now, brother. Mother wasn’t very happy about that, was she?”
My back and legs throb as I think of the punishments I received for not delivering Autumn, but I keep a smirk plastered on my face.
Kairyn staggers to the door and rips it open. “You need something to report? Tell Sira soon the five divine weapons will be in my control.”
The Nightingale and I exchange a glance. She puts her mask back on, and we follow the Spring Prince out into the hallway.
Kairyn’s voice bounces off the walls as we trail behind him. “I know what they call you, Caspian. Traitor. Betrayer. So, this may be a confusing subject for you, but what we have cultivated here is called loyalty.”
A muscle feathers in my jaw. I can’t believe I’m being insulted by this walking hunk of scrap metal. But I let him continue—why interrupt someone when they’re likely to reveal their own weaknesses?
“Cast your eyes upon the Vale’s reckoning.” Kairyn stops before a huge, open-air archway. I step beside him and look down into a stone courtyard.
Hundreds of soldiers spar, their steel spears clanging together in near-perfect unison. They all wear identical armor, that same moonlight-gold emblazoned with celestial sigils: suns and stars and crescent moons.
I raise a brow. “I’m not sure if you’ve forgotten, Kairyn dear, but I haven’t spent my whole life in the Below. In fact, I traveled from Florendel to the monastery escorted by your very brother only several decades ago. I’ve seen the Queen’s Army train before.”
And they are as mesmerizing now as the first time I saw them. The monastery is not only home to strange acolytes who still revere the long-lost Queen and worship the sky as if it still housed the Above, but to an ancient guild of highly trained warriors from across the realms. The Queen’s Army was formed centuries ago, serviced by elite and disciplined soldiers who would come to the Queen’s call only. Their dedication is unmatched.
Hilariously so, if you ask me.
They’ve given their lives to training and wait for the day the Queen will call upon them, regardless of the fact she’s been gone from the Vale’s eye for over five hundred years. Like dogs waiting on a doorstep for a dead owner who will never return.