“Oh, what’s that? The murderous tendencies? The rageful outbursts? The stomping?”
Birdy pushes past me and makes for the door. When she arrives, she shoots back one withering glare. “He understands how it feels to be the unloved child.”
20
Ezryn
It’s amazing how even among all the vibrant life, my father’s room still smells like death. The draping curtain of vines around the bed, the moss-covered stone walls, and vases of fresh green flowers do nothing to mask the heaviness in the air.
An acolyte from the monastery sits beside the bed, dipping a cloth into a basin of water and placing it on Father’s wrists, the only exposed skin she can see.
“His plate and cup were empty when I arrived for my duty this morning,” the acolyte says, without turning. “Though, he is now in a deep slumber.”
“When did he last leave these chambers?” I step into the room.
“A week now, sire. When he does awaken, his words have lost all rhyme and reason. Many healers have come. Physically, there is nothing ailing him. I fear his spirit is lost.”
I still, my chest tightening. It has been this way for some time, but I’ve never seen him in such a state before. True, he has wilted, but he has always been able to hold court.
The acolyte stands, wiping her hands on her apron. Her dark, wavy hair is pulled back by a stardrop, the same white flower Eldy was wearing. I recognize her from the throne room.
But that’s not the only place I’ve seen her before. “What is your name, acolyte?”
“Wrenley, sire.”
“Wrenley.” I snatch her arm, pulling her easily toward me. “I saw you in the Below. Why were you there?”
Her blue eyes flash, and she struggles out of my grip. “I—”
“At the Prince of Thorns’ party,” I growl. I’d accidentally grabbed her, mistaking her for Rosalina. “What business did you have there?”
She straightens, regaining her composure, and stares me straight down in a way that reminds me of Rosalina when she sets her mind to something.
“High Prince, I was indeed in the Below.” Her blue eyes water. “Unfortunately, there is sometimes a need for even a servant of the light to descend to such depths. Do you command me to bear my shame to you so publicly?”
Guilt roils through me as a single tear trails down her cheek. Many fae travel to the Below for what cannot be procured above, some reasons more sinister than others. But if she is to be directly tending to my father, I need answers. “Your loyalty is to your monastery?”
“Yes,” Wrenley says. “And to Spring. Indeed, Prince Kairyn lets his heart guide him instead of his head, if I may be so bold. But he has saved so many on the mountain. And now that you have returned, I believe … I believe it may be enough for Prince Thalionor to regain his strength.”
“I shall sit with him. You are dismissed.”
She nods, gathers the basin, and pads to the exit. “I’m sure the steward will be glad of your presence in Spring again. Prince Thalionor was never the same after what happened to Princess Isidora. Such a tragedy she didn’t survive the passing of the Blessing, for one so strong.”
“Get out,” I growl.
She inclines her head and darts from the room.
Falling into the chair beside the bed, I let out a deep sigh. My head aches, and fatigue consumes my body. My father lies on his back, helm polished, the only sound a raspy echo. His bare wrists look dry and wrinkled. Even this small bit of skin feels too much for me to glimpse.
For I have never seen his face. If my parents had interpreted the royal creed differently, I could gaze upon his face now. Tend to him and feed him warm broth.
My mother, his mate, was the only one he allowed to witness him. My parents were not mates in the way I witness Rosalina and Farron, love blossoming like a wild meadow. But they were bound as tight as chain mail. A blade and a shield, an arrow and a bow, an anvil and chisel. There was no one without the other.
I’ve never seen their smiles or frowns or ever known the color of their eyes. I’d lamented once as a child on it, long before I donned my own helm, and begged my mother to remove hers.
We wear our helms as a sign of devotion to Spring, my mother had told me. Our greatest love must be given to the people first. It is the duty and honor of the royal family.
My parents showed me their love through their devotion to our people, by teaching me our ways, instilling discipline.
It was a different sort of love than what I witnessed when visiting Keldarion’s family in the Winter Realm. Of long nights curled by a fire with hugs and old stories and warm, shared food. But I treasured the love I received from both my parents.