Rosalina
Idon’t know if it’s because of the altitude or the immensity of the structure before us, but I’m
struggling to breathe.
Queen’s Reach Monastery towers above us, an unbelievable skyscraper of gothic
architecture and fae elegance. It stretches so far up that the top is completely covered by clouds. And
we’re already so high in the mountains, it’s no wonder it’s said to be the closest point to the fabled
Above.
It is a single building composed of thin and jutting towers, the walls made of golden stone, the
spires gilded. Flying buttresses support the main structure, while ornate domes crown the other
turrets.
Farron holds out his hand to help me down from my ibex. I let him but can’t tear my eyes from the
building. It makes me uneasy; maybe because I realize just how small I truly am.
“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Farron asks as he ties our steeds beside a patch of stardrop flowers.
“I always dreamt of seeing the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State Building,” I whisper, not even
able to blink, “but this would put them both to shame.”
“The Queen made quite an impact on the people of the Vale. This is their testament to her.”
“I’m sorry Dayton isn’t here to see it.”
After he rescued the drowning fae woman, Dayton had offered to escort her down the
mountainside.
“He’s seen it before. Come on.” Farron places a hand on my back and guides me toward the
doors.
They open as we arrive. Ezryn stands there, arms crossed. Farron had sent him one of his
enchanted flying letters informing him of our impending arrival.
“I’m glad you’ve arrived safely. How was your journey up the mountain?” he asks.
“Eventful,” Farron responds. “As you can see, we’ve lost Dayton. But I’ll tell you about that later.
Have you spoken with Kairyn yet?”
“No, I was just about to find him when I received your letter. Come. Tell me what is so urgent.
Mind your words, though. There are ears everywhere.”
We step inside the entrance hall of the monastery. I gasp, chills surging up my body. I don’t know
if I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. The entire hall is lit with colored light drifting through the
many stained-glass windows. It reminds me of High Tower in Castletree, but grander, more
spectacular. Even the long rug we walk upon is opulent, the swirling designs telling a story I don’t
understand.
It’s a hive of activity: a staircase disappears upward on one side, and an elevator shaft hums with
movement on the other. Acolytes dressed in white and gold robes busy about, barely paying us any
attention.
Ezryn and Farron’s conversation drifts in and out of my ears as I try to focus, but the surrounding
sights are so distracting.
“I have to admit, my brother is right,” Ezryn says. “There seems to be a great improvement here
since he replaced the High Clerics. The acolytes are well-fed, morale seems high, and the
surrounding villages are protected from goblin raids.”
“Who’s been protecting them?” Farron asks.
“The new High Clerics. Kairyn calls them his Penta Conclave.”
Farron’s voice lowers: “Isn’t there only three of them? Kairyn and those other two helmet-
wearing soldiers he’s always with?”
Ezryn hesitates. “My brother is a great warrior.”
“And he could be stashing Spring steel up here,” Farron urges. “Listen—”
He begins to reiterate what we learned from Tilla, how a great number of weapons have been
moved up to the monastery.
My focus breaks as a little girl dressed in white walks by holding a bouquet of stardrops. She
smiles up at me and waves. I wave back.
Then her cheeks turn bright red. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
Before I can respond, she scuttles away.
I continue trailing after Ez and Farron, their voices now too low for me to hear. We pass an
arched doorway, and I cast a look inside.
My heart stutters. It appears like a chapel, stone pews set before a dais. Behind the dais is a
mosaic.
I stop, eyes completely caught by the artwork. It depicts a woman, her eyes closed, her body
silhouetted by an ethereal glow. And all around her are the seasons I’ve loved so much throughout my
life: in the upper-right quadrant, the cold comfort of winter depicted in pieces of blue and white
ceramic. Below it, the gorgeous pinks and green of spring. On her other side, turquoise and coral
make out the heat of summer. Above are the fiery reds and oranges of fall.
And hanging over the woman’s head is a briar blooming with red and gold roses.
Before I know it, I’ve slipped into the room, drifting over to the image as if drawn by an invisible
string.
This must be a depiction of Queen Aurelia. I feel a sense of kinship with her, a part of all the
seasons that make up the Vale.
Something scratches at the tip of my mind, a feeling and a thought all at once. I squint my eyes at
the mosaic. That feeling ... It ripples down from my head to linger by my heart.
I touch my necklace. The Queen is gone. But what if some of her magic stayed behind? “Beautiful,
isn’t it?” a voice says from behind me.
I whirl. Blocking the doorway like a living shadow is Ezryn’s brother, the banished prince of
Spring. Kairyn.