Rosalina
I keep right on Ezryn’s heel as he storms through the gates into Keep Hammergarden, nattering as
fast as I can at him, catching him up on what conspired at Castletree. “—and that’s when we saw
what they were wielding. Spring steel, Dayton called it. He immediately sent letters to Farron
and Kel letting them know what happened, and then we came right here.”
“The goblins have long used crude imitations of our weapons,” Ezryn says. “For them to have
stolen our own resources is unprecedented.”
I stare up at him, silent. I don’t think I even understand the gravity of what Dayton and I
discovered. But a sense of comfort rushes through me, being here, being with Ezryn. He always bears
his burdens alone.
Not anymore.
A fae man scrambles down the steps of the wall and stops in our path. He leans over, hands on his
knees, panting. “Sire, must you always be leaping off buildings? You could twist an ankle, or more
likely, dent our lovely cobblestone. Oh!” He notices me. “Why, hello there. Have we met before?”
I smile at the newcomer. He’s got a nervous jitter to him, but his eyes are kind. “I don’t think so.
I’m Rosalina O’Connell.”
“This is Eldy, Keep Hammergarden’s majordomo,” Ezryn says. “And a good friend.”
“Rosalina O’Connell.” Eldy says my name like each syllable is special in its own way. “A
pleasure to meet you. I wasn’t aware,” he looks between me and Ezryn, “the High Prince was
currently courting anyone.”
“I’m not,” Ezryn says bluntly, and I flinch. The feel of him between my legs when we were in the
Below floods through me: the dark shroud of his backward helm obscuring my vision until there was
only his mouth and tongue. Call me old-fashioned, but bringing a lady to a private arboretum and
eating her out like your own personal buffet kind of feels like courting.
“She’s High Prince Farron’s mate,” Ezryn continues.
And there it is. I know Ez and Day are thrilled for me and Farron; they’re the only ones I think
who might love Farron as much as I do. But it’s just another reminder that their curses worsen, that
they’re missing out on someone who could love and cherish them with every fiber of their being, who
would see them for more than the beasts and the sins, but the wonderful, strong men that they are—
And that person isn’t me.
“Oh!” Eldy gives a little hop, covering his mouth. “Prince Farron has found a mate? What joyous
news! Dear Farron! I am positively chuffed!”
Ezryn crosses his arms. “How have you not heard? Letters were sent to all the realms.”
“Like I said before, sire, Spring has been a bit ... closed-off from the other realms.” Eldy looks
past me, and something shifts in his expression. His mouth falls open in a gasp. “It truly is you.”
Astrid and Marigold approach us. Astrid’s biting her lip, eyes shifting rapidly between the
majordomo and Marigold. But Marigold crosses her arms, pops a hip, and levels Eldy with a glare
that would frighten even the princes’ beasts.
“You are as beauteous as ever, Lady Marigold,” Eldy whispers, eyes suddenly at his feet.
“Save it,” she snaps. “I’m not here to listen to you grovel. I’m here to do my job.” She gives him
another withering stare. “Something you struggle to do.”
“I ... I never!” Eldy says, but Marigold’s already sashayed past him toward the keep. Ezryn claps
him on the shoulder as he follows her.
“You’re going to need to catch me up,” I whisper to Astrid as we walk behind.
“Have you got three years?”
But there’s no time for details as we approach the door leading into the cavernous Keep
Hammergarden. I’ve never felt so small in my entire life: the colossal mountains loom above, and the
keep is built directly into the rocky surface. It blends almost seamlessly with the natural contours of
the mountain range, appearing as if grown from the earth itself.
It’s strange: the imposing stonework of Keep Hammergarden, and the delicate gardens that dot
either side, bursting with blooms of every color. There is both strength and fragility, power and
peace.
Guards lower their heads as we pass into the building, showing the utmost reverence to Ezryn. He
walks with confidence, and the man who was competitively playing board games with Caspian,
stealing chocolate muffins, or tenderly healing my arm, feels far away.
“For some reason, this place has always given me the heebie-jeebies,” Astrid whispers as we
walk through the huge hall. “It’s like I can’t tell if I’m inside or outside.”
I kind of understand what she means. The walls are the rough stone of a cave, with moss and
trickles of water running over it. And yet, it’s decorated with finery. A dark green carpet lines our
way, and the guards are dressed in shimmering armor.
A familiar, loud voice echoes through the space. “I told you, I don’t need an appointment. If you
don’t let me in to see Ez right now—”
“You mean His Highness, High Prince Ezryn?”
We round a corner to see a red-faced Dayton squabbling with a guard outside of two large
wooden doors.
“You know who I mean,” Dayton sneers. “Now, I’m going to kick your ass if I can’t see Ez in the
next—”
“High Prince Ezryn!” the guard calls, suddenly straightening.
“That’s who I said,” Dayton sighs.
Ezryn comes up beside him and crosses his arms. Why do I get the feeling he’s raising a brow and
smirking under that helmet of his?
“Thank you for your vigilance. But this is High Prince Daytonales of Summer. He is to be treated
with the same respect as I.”
“Oh, Ez!” Dayton wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Tight ship you run around here. Would have
thought I was Kel by the way the folk are treating me.”
Another realm that has issue with Kel?
“Apologies, High Prince,” the guard says, lowering his head. “I was merely following protocol
established by the steward—”
“The steward,” Ezryn growls, “is bedridden. The person sitting on the throne is a usurper.”
And with that, Ezryn throws open the doors and strides into his throne room.