“That was one time.”
“But you spoke in my head the day I ran away from Castletree. You told me to run, that you couldn’t get to me. I think… I think you wanted to help me.”
Caspian examines his clean, well-trimmed nails. “Yes, well, your mate had created quite a predicament for me at Castletree. I couldn’t exactly step away.”
“Ugh!” I drive my fingers into my hair. “You’re so frustrating! Do you betray friend and foe alike? Is there anyone you’re loyal to?”
“Like any good citizen of the Enchanted Vale, I am loyal to the Queen.”
“What, is there a Queen of the Below I don’t know about?”
His eyes flash darkly, and he grasps the back of my neck, fingers running through my hair. “Are we going to continue to chat in the middle of a battlefield, or are you going to fulfill your bargain?”
But the battle feels far away, the shouts and cries distant, and I force myself to focus. Caspian looks so curious, dressed in the golden armor of Autumn. It makes him look younger, softer. I let him pull me close, so I’m in his lap. I take off his helm, and a tumble of dark hair frames his elegant face.
“A little kiss for such power?” I say softly, letting my thorns continue to weave up his body and through the plates of his armor. “You must have been thinking of this for some time.”
His eyes close, long lashes sparkling in the golden light. “You have no idea, Princess.”
Warmth blooms inside me, and I try to ignore the rush of feeling through my body. I lower my lips, a breath away from his. “I made a bargain to kiss you, Caspian.”
Lightly, his fingers graze my spine. “Yes.”
I pull back, taking my briars with me and stand, quickly shoving the book into my satchel.
Caspian opens his eyes, blinking, confused.
“I made a bargain to kiss you, but I didn’t promise it would be now. It was you who failed to say where or when. It pays to be specific with bargains, you know.”
For a moment I think he’s going to be angry, but he only laughs, a dark rasp. “Ahh, Princess, you really were made for this world, weren’t you?” His laugh turns into a cough, and black stains his lips.
“What—”
He wipes a finger through the dark ooze coating his mouth. “Use the power well, Rosalina,” he says, then falls to the ground, as one might fall into ocean waves. Briars encircle him, and he vanishes into thorns and shadows.
But the vines encircling my wrists remain. It might be the magic of the Prince of Thorns, but it’s mine now.
Mine to do with as I wish.
81
Farron
Dayton,Mother,andIcrash upon the top of the hill, a charging entity of gold and flame.
Perth snaps a hand, and three hideous creatures sally forth on either side of him. The decaying horses, their bodies blue and frostbitten, have manes crusted with jagged frost and empty eye sockets. Two are ridden by wraiths. Unlike the bare-boned skeleton soldiers, these riders are freshly made.
Perth hauls himself up on the third dead horse and holds out a hand, creating a glittering ice spear, the fractals shining with that otherworldly green glow.
“Looks like we got his attention,” Dayton says.
With a cry, Quellos and his riders charge.
“Take out the wraiths,” I say, voice low. “Quellos belongs to Autumn.”
My mother stops her steed beside me and lowers her lance. We steel ourselves. Quellos and his riders crash upon us like a blizzard: a flurry of cold and snapping wind and violence.
Terrible noises of equine pain shoot into the air; though I can’t take my eyes off Quellos to check, I know Dayton has engaged the riders. My mother drives her lance into the visible ribs of Quellos’s steed, and it bucks. I lunge forward, blazing fire from my hands.
