Lucas pulls me tighter against him. I feel like I’m pressed against thousands of worms. “Do you see those two men holding your father? That’s Laughy and Aldridge. Old buddies of mine.”
“I know them,” I spit. “No better than thugs.”
“Yeah, well, those thugs beat the shit out of a guy who cheated me in cards. Imagine what they’ll do to your father.”
Tears prick my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“I fucking would.” All the time, he keeps looking up at the throng of people, plastering on a smile. They probably have deluded themselves into thinking he’s whispering sweet nothings into my ear. Can’t they see my face? Can’t they hear my cries? Or do they just not care?
I look at my father, getting pulled further and further away from the crowd toward the Poussin Hunting Lodge. No… I can’t let him get hurt. Not because of me.
“Accept the reality,” Lucas says, his voice an eerie whisper. “There is no one else for you. You’ll always be my little Pumpkin.”
I close my eyes. There’s no choice to be made. I’ll do anything to protect my father. I take in a shaky breath—
A murmur trembles through the crowd and a couple gasps erupt. I blink my eyes open and stare. The crowd has parted. And walking down the street toward me, the blaring sun at their backs, are three towering men.
“Who the fuck are they?” Lucas snaps.
I squint against the sun. Whoarethey? I can’t make out their faces yet, but there’s something odd about them.
They’re dressed like they walked out of the nineties.
The tallest one on the left looks like he just left the slopes, wearing a ski suit of vibrant purple, pink, and green. A matching neon ski mask covers his entire face, complete with huge orange goggles with tinted lenses.
The one on the right wears baggy acid-washed jeans, topped with a huge shirt covered in colorful squiggles and geometric shapes. His face is totally covered in shadow from his oversized holographic bucket hat, but I see auburn waves peeking out from underneath.
But all eyes are on the one in the middle. Even Lucas is squinting and staring at him. He’s wearing the tightest jeans I’ve seen in my entire life, the denim hugging his huge thighs. I swear I could see more, but a leather fanny pack covers his hips. A fuckingfanny pack. Who are these people? A black turtleneck envelops his torso, complete with a gold chain.
I should use this distraction to get away, but I’m as entranced as everyone else. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them, fighting against the sun’s glare.
Then it comes into focus.
Not my vision, but my heart.
These are not just three weirdos with totally outdated fashion.
These aremyweirdos.
“Ezryn! Dayton! Farron!” My voice carries crystal clear through the air.
They look up from the crowd.
I see them so clearly now: Farron’s golden eyes sparkling in the fading light, his mouth half-open, my name upon his lips. Dayton in the middle, a strange, genuine smile breaking across his mouth, strands of blond hair falling loose from his long ponytail. And Ezryn, face still hidden from view, but the stance of his body changing, his gloved hand reaching for me.
They came.
The High Princes of Castletree came for me.
10
Farron
I’dthoughtitreallywas the end. Castletree had held onto a bit of hope for the last twenty-five years, but that hope disappeared when she did.
But as I stare at her now, her messy brown hair trailing across that beautiful face, it’s like the sun has dawned again.
Rosalina. Our Rosie.
