His back arches and celestial light streams from all around him. Then with a great howl, the silhouette of a wolf shines behind him before dissipating like motes of dust in a sunbeam.
Farron falls to the ground, and I scramble over. “Farron?”
He lifts his head, and his auburn hair falls away from his face. I gasp.
His eyes sparkle with newfound joy, and his skin seems to gleam as if lit from within.
“Rosalina,” he says and cups my face.
Through the bond, I feel our shared realization.
Farron’s curse has been broken.
70
Rosalina
FarronandIwalkthrough the forest hand in hand. I can’t help sneaking glances up at him; he’s always been handsome, but there’s a luminance to him that wasn’t there before. A tinge of nervousness flickers in my belly, and Farron chuckles to himself.
Thankfully, I brought two extra sets of clothes in my pack, so I didn’t have to put on my soaked outfit. We’re both dressed in simple traveler’s attire—trousers, long tunics, and Autumn cloaks—but he’s never looked more princely.
My body hums as we walk, a satisfied ache pulsing between my legs.So that’s what sex is supposed to be like. I’ll have to drink that tea Marigold told me about.
Other issues press on my mind. I have to ask Farron if he will return to Coppershire to confront his mother, his people. I informed him of what happened while he was lost in his beast, and that Dayton is safe, but we need to free the other princes.
“Watch out.” Farron pushes me back as we step out of the treeline. The edge of the forest shines with ice, and the hills are covered in blue frost. Tendrils leach down, weaving their way out of the woods like sickly veins.
“It’s all such a mess,” Farron whispers. “The frost is so close to Coppershire now. Kel, Dayton, and Ez are imprisoned by my own realm. My people are on the brink of war. And my mother believes me to be nothing more than a monster.” He shakes his head. “What can we do against such obstacles?”
I squeeze his hand three times. “Unite. Coppershire needs their High Prince.”
Farron opens his mouth to respond when a rumble shakes the ground. The sound of muffled shouts and commands carry over the wind, and a flock of birds screeches up into the sky.
We exchange a look and run up the crest of the hill. Farron lies flat and pulls me down beside him. I gasp, fear thundering through me.
A war camp spreads out on the chrysanthemum field beside the old ruins, a teeming mass of tents and soldiers. My heart sinks at the sight of the telltale blue fabric of their shelters and armor. “These are Winter troops,” I say.
“Dissenters, by the looks of it,” Farron whispers. “They bear no sigil nor flag.”
My gaze is drawn to an icy dais in the center of the camp. Standing atop it is none other than the vizier himself, Perth Quellos.
Even from so far above, I can see the conniving glint in his eye as he observes the gathering. On his head sits a metal crown encircling a bright green gem; I remember seeing him wear it back at Castletree. Emerald mist writhes and shifts around it like a living thing.
A cloaked figure stands beside him. Though their face is hidden by the hood, the same green glow emanates from the shadows. Do they wear a crown of the same?
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Farron.
“I don’t know.” Anger flashes in his gaze. “They’re camped upon the burial grounds from the War of Thorns. Such utter disrespect to our history, to our dead.”
The crowd hushes as the vizier raises his hands. Dark charisma oozes out of him, a very different presence than I’ve ever seen him possess.
“Beloved denizens of Winter,” Perth begins, his voice carrying across the wind with a magically amplified force, “long have you waited for our prodigal prince to return and lead our realm to righteous deliverance. Standing before me are those of you who were brave enough to cast off your shackles of loyalty and instead stand for what is right.”
A booming applause rages up from the soldiers. Some clatter swords to shield.
“Long have the realms been at the whims of the High Rulers. Long have we pretended they are the tenets of Queen Aurelia herself! But the Queen abandoned us, and Keldarion has followed suit. It is time for us to stop believing the lie that the High Princes want what is best for us. Instead, we must carve our own fate into history!”
I can barely hear the roar of applause over my pounding heart. If this is a Winter rebellion, why are they in Autumn?
