The death place of my mother.
Rosalina doesn’t know that; she thinks I’m taking her to the lake. So, she spins as she walks, her dress trailing petals and her eyes full of stars. I revel in it.
Because though I don’t even have her now, after this, I may lose everything.
A clearing opens in the trees ahead. I take in a deep breath. She must sense I’m anxious because she laces her fingers with mine and bumps my shoulder. Windscythe jangles in the hilt on my back.
“This,” I say, “is Sylvanita Lake.”
The full moon illuminates the clearing where a crystalline lake shines beneath its reflection. Water from the river above cascades over jagged rocks and into the lake. Trees drenched in pink cherry blossoms encircle the grove. At its crown is a massive willow tree. Its branches sway to the whims of the wind, its boughs adorned with tiny catkins as delicate as lace.
And piercing its trunk is a silver broadsword.
Rosalina steps forward, blinking. “This place feels like a dream.”
“It’s very sacred to our realm. Legend has it the Queen herself grew the willow tree.”
Rosalina stares up at it and smiles. “I like it. It reminds me of the one back in Orca Cove.”
I place my palm on the small of her back. “Come on.”
Using my arm, I part the boughs of the willow like a curtain so Rosalina can enter. She runs a hand along the long branches. A few leaves drift over her hair.
I stand perfectly still watching her, but every part of me screams to grab her in my arms. My heart feels on fire, coals erupting into flame.
I have never felt anything like this before.
Seeing her here, in my realm beneath the cherry blossom trees, a deep and ancient knowing fights against my logical mind.
All the centuries of my life have passed with little meaning because I was waiting. Waiting to find her.
I rub at the silver plate over my chest, wishing I could grasp my heart. Months ago, I’d placed a will-o’-wisp there and seen nothing but tangled threads. Maybe I am broken.
And this … This is what I must face to make it right.
“A sword?” Rosalina circles the trunk before she stops at the hilt. Only a small amount of the blade is visible, the rest absorbed by the tree.
I inhale deeply. I must tell her now. “It belonged to my mother.”
“Princess Isidora,” Rosalina says. “Why is it here?”
Every word is pain. “In memorial. This is where she lost her life.”
“Oh, Ez,” Rosalina breathes. “I’m so sorry.”
There’s so much more that needs to be said, but the words are stuck like arrows in my chest. I can’t bear to look at Rose, so I turn my gaze to the ground.
Curiously, I notice a cluster of purple flower buds, unfamiliar to me. Much of the vegetation changed after my mother’s death, but this is new since my last visit.
I kneel to examine them, just to give my hands something to do as I force the rest of the words out. “Do you know how my mother died, Rose?”
There’s silence and then, “When she passed on Spring’s Blessing to you. Eldy said that the act can be very dangerous. I’m so sorry that happened to her. To you.”
I run a hand over the large bud and squeeze my eyes shut. “That’s what everyone thinks. What all of Spring thinks. What even Farron and Dayton think. The only ones who know the truth are me, Kel, and Kairyn.”
Her hand presses on my shoulder. “I will never judge your past, Ez. I know who you are now, and I see who you are becoming. You can tell me anything.”
And I feel it … The threads inside of me untangling, spreading out like petals on a breeze. I can trust her with my darkness, and she will shelter me.
I look up. “I ki—”
The flower bud in my hand blooms, spewing golden pollen into the air. A huge puff blows over my visor and under the edge of my helm.
And then the nightmare begins.
50
Rosalina
“Ezryn? Ezryn!” I scream. He’s staggered backward, clutching his helm, crying out with a voice I’ve never heard him make.
Pollen smears across his visor and down his neck. His movements are jerky, frantic. I need to steady him.
I lunge forward to grab him, and a yellow blur shrouds my vision. My throat tightens, nose tingling.
My head spins. The trunk of the willow tree wavers in and out of focus, becoming two then three. My legs shake beneath me, and I look down to see the ground is moving under my feet, rolling over itself like waves.
Ezryn. I have to grab Ezryn. A horrible scream fills the air. Is it his voice or mine?