“Some people would be wrong,” I growl.
“Rumor has it more problems plague our dear princes. Their home rots, goblins run wild, and some say they’ve even caught sight of a horrible monster running through the brambles. A beast in the Briar.”
Now, it’s my turn to steady myself, to be like Ezryn and think before I speak. “I find the scariest beasts aren’t the ones with teeth and claws, but the ones that hide behind a smile.”
We hold each other’s gazes—his that terrible dark void beneath the protruding metal brow—before he chuckles, deep and haunting.
“I happen to love things that scare me, Lady O’Connell.” He turns to the tapestry. “As you are a new-born fae and my brother has not seen fit to educate you, let me. I have often taught the youngest acolytes of our history.”
I shift back to the art, keeping Kairyn visible in my peripheral.
“At the dawning of time, there was only the Realm Above, a place of ethereal beauty. And it owed its radiance to the Gardens of Ithilias, a celestial rosebush that bathed the realm in its divine light.”
He sweeps his hand up toward the top image. A celestial rosebush … My heart thuds with anticipation.
“The fae lived here in peace and serenity. And yet, not all were happy to be bathed in the light. A fae woman coveted a land of her own. So, she stole a precious flower from the rosebush and, with its magic, forged the Realm Below.”
My eyes catch on the scene underneath the nebulous clouds: a fae woman is sewn into the threads, her eyes glinting even in the fabric. Her black hair flows behind her as she pulls a rose from its stem.
“In her new realm, the woman used the stolen rose to breed creations of her own, monsters crafted of the darkened soil of her realm.”
“The goblins,” I whisper.
“And the like.” It almost sounds like there’s a smile behind Kairyn’s lips, and I realize I must appear captivated.
Because I am.
“The fae woman who stole the rose,” I breathe. “What was her name?”
Kairyn’s fists clench. “Sira, Queen of the Below.”
I’ve heard the name. Farron’s words drift back to me from months ago: Someone even Caspian is afraid of.
Kairyn continues: “For her treachery in stealing the rose, Sira was banished from the Realm Above. In retaliation, she waged war upon those who had wronged her, unleashing her creations onto the celestial city. Despite their courage, the fae of the Realm Above knew not the ways of war. Sira destroyed the rosebush, and the Realm Above was lost.”
I can’t help it; my fingers drift over the images Kairyn depicts: the rosebush throttled by darkness, the clouds caving in on themselves. “That can’t be the end.”
“It wasn’t.” Kairyn reaches out and takes my hand in his, directing me to a new image. One of an ethereal fae drenched in light. Four roses float around her head. “A brave fae named Aurelia sensed the impending doom and severed four flowers from the rosebush before its demise.”
“Aurelia,” I whisper. “The Queen.”
“From the ashes of devastation, she crafted a new world and grew a grand castle, a tree imbued with the fallen magic of the Realm Above.” His voice lowers. “A twisted throne of power.”
I trace the edges of the brilliant tree, my heart blooming like its branches. “Castletree.” Home.
Kairyn’s movements are slow, languishing, as he leads me across the tapestry to the next image: a fabric version of the mosaic I saw earlier. “From the plucked roses, she created four realms, and bequeathed them to her four most loyal servants. She named them princes and princesses, forever binding the magic of these realms to hers. The self-proclaimed Queen of the Enchanted Vale sat upon her throne with vengeance in her heart.”
I turn to Kairyn. “What do you mean, vengeance?”
“The war was far from over, Lady O’Connell. Aurelia had lost her first home and suddenly had dominion over not one realm, but five. And she intended to make Sira pay for what she had taken.”
Before I can ask another question, Kairyn places his hand on the small of my back again. “Come. I will show you more than art.”
Kairyn leads me into an elevator shaft: a strange combination of mechanical engineering and the spark of magic. The back is completely open, revealing the twisting river down the mountain and Florendel far in the distance. He places his finger on the door and traces a rune. My stomach leaps into my throat as we shoot up.
Seconds turn into minutes as we continue flying up, up, up. Kairyn says nothing. I twiddle my fingers around and around. The silence sits between us, heavy and awkward.