“Who are they?” I whisper.
“The Dreadknights. Soldiers of the Below.” Ezryn leans Kel against the wall, then steps in front of us, hand casually resting on the hilt of his sword.
Behind us, Dayton has taken off his necklace, desperately trying to get the mirror to catch the light. “These never work down here,” he hisses.
I inhale a shaky breath. “We’re guests of the Prince of Thorns.”
“Oh, really?” a husky feminine voice purrs. “I don’t see him. Do you?”
The female glides forth from the cluster of soldiers like an encroaching shadow. For a moment, I am spellbound by her presence. Her black cape flicks behind, resembling a tail of raven feathers. A large hood shrouds her features, and a mask conceals the bottom half of her face, leaving only her blue eyes visible.
She was the one arguing with Caspian below the staircase of thorns.
“Do I know you?” Ezryn asks, venom lacing his words.
She moves closer with a haunting grace, each step fluid and silent. Her armor is adorned with intricate plates of jewel-toned metal, each one a glittering gemstone of a different hue. Blades are strapped to her waist and around her legs.
“They call me the Nightingale,” she says. “Commander of the Dreadknights, and the one who will finally deliver the useless fae princes and their human pet to the Queen of the Below.”
“We are guests. Detaining us will have dire consequences,” Ezryn says, though I think it’s more a stalling tactic at this point. His helm moves ever so slightly. He’s taking count of the soldiers.
Dayton abandons working on his necklace and rushes forward. “What the fuck have you done with Farron?”
Where’s Caspian? I grip the wall, and something pulses beneath my hand—
The heartbeat of the Below.
I kneel on the ground, pretending to check on Keldarion. The Nightingale and her soldiers move closer to my princes.
I press my palm to the hard earth.Your princes have their little mirrors to take them to Castletree. I, however, can travel anywhere my thorns are.
Caspian can leave the Below as he wishes. He doesn’t need mirrors or portals. He has everything at his fingertips.
And so do I.
Beneath my hands sprouts a vine of thorns.
62
Rosalina
Youaremine. A possessive fierceness radiates through me as I bury my hands in the earth. Thorns rise around me. I’ve controlled these briars before. Even Caspian admitted I could do it.
But I’ve never summoned them like this.
A well of magic courses deep within me, my connection to the thorns stronger than I’ve ever felt it before. There must be some tie to the Below, some vicinity to this underworld that fuels this link between me and the magic. Whatever the case, I need it now more than ever.
Caspian uses the thorns as transport, appearing and disappearing wherever his thorns have grown. And there are thorns in the Autumn Realm: the ones we planted.
Take me to the surface,I roar inside my mind.Take me to Caspian.
The thorns trickle over to us. Kel immediately kicks out, breaking one apart as it nears him. Pain flicks through me as if they are an extension of my nervous system. They wrap up my legs and around my waist, and I will them to do the same to the princes.
Kel rips them off as soon as they touch his skin, and even Ezryn backs away defensively.
“Are you idiots?” Dayton snaps. His arms are outstretched, head up toward the surface. “There’s no time for your fear. Farron needs us. Rosalina’s going to get us to him.”
I offer an appreciative smile while Ez and Kel exchange looks. Mercifully, they stay still, and the thorns wind tight around each of us.
