“Oh!” She grabs my hand. “Ezryn, it’s Castletree. Goblins attacked it. And they were wielding Spring steel.”
15
Caspian
There’s a list in my head of all the things that frighten me, with losing to Ezryn at a board game and finally inheriting my birthright being near the top. Being summoned to the Abyssal Sanctum fits snugly between them.
I pause briefly outside the iron doors and stretch my calf. My leg is almost healed, but I can’t let a single tremor show. Any sign of weakness would be especially problematic, as this is the first time I’ve been called upon since enduring my punishment for losing Autumn.
Throwing open the doors, I step inside. Towering columns line the walkway to a massive throne. Tall stairs lead to an elegant chair.
Crystals surround the throne, flickering green flames caged within them. Their jagged edges jut out at odd angles, casting a luminescent glow across the shadowy figure draped there.
Each stone seems to hum with its own arcane heartbeat, making the air heavy with magic. I resist hunching my shoulders. It always feels like I have two sets of judging eyes on me here.
I wasn’t the only one summoned today. Another figure already kneels before the green monstrosity. The Nightingale has her head bowed. The perfect servant.Not that she really has a choice.She’s dressed in her full armor, besides her mask. Sira loves to watch her expressions of fear.
I mimic my adopted sister’s movement and whisper quietly, “So, did you mess up or did I?”
Her blue eyes flick to me, and she hisses, “Shut up. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
A haunting voice cuts through the din, and we both fall silent. “My children. Rise.”
We both follow the command instinctively. My mother inclines her head. The green light slashes across her sharp jawline and that serpentine smile that often mirrors on my own lips.
A smile the Nightingale can never quite master, no matter how much hatred our mother fills her with.
“I’ve heard some disturbing rumors sifting down from the Autumn Realm,” Sira, Queen of the Below, says. “It appears I may have been too hasty when I discounted Quellos’s report of the girl who destroyed his army. I hear whispers of a woman who can wield briars.”
Inside, my blood goes cold, but I keep my expression neutral and avoid flicking my gaze to my sister.
“Some say she’s a human. Others, a fae.” Sira taps a pointed nail on one of the crystals lining the arm rest. “Now, Autumn is sending out decrees that the High Prince of Autumn has found a mate. Yet, I also hear she’s mated to the High Prince of Winter. So many stories. My son, have you gazed upon this woman?”
“Yes,” I say carefully, so carefully. “I’ve seen her.”
“Tell me, Caspian, was she familiar to you?”
That echoing serpentine smile spreads up my face. “Like a vision.”
My mother laughs, the dark sound resounding through the rocks. “The Fates never lie, do they?”
No, but they certainly withhold much of the truth,I think bitterly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the girl. They keep her at Castletree. As expected, the Winter Prince’s magic remains bound as he refuses to break the curse.”
“Because of your bargain?”
“Because of my bargain.” Absently, I touch the frosted thorn bracelet around my wrist. The Nightingale’s calculating gaze falls over me. Even she doesn’t know the full extent of what happened between Keldarion and me.
“Clever boy,” Sira praises.
“That she is also Farron’s mate is news to me,” I continue. “Or that she can wield briars. I’ve noticed no such thing.”
One dark brow rises on Sira’s face.I shouldn’t have said his first name.The Nightingale is still staring at me. We need to be dismissed before she mentions a certain party guest who summoned a patch of thorns in the Below.
“The people of Autumn call her the Golden Rose.” Sira keeps her voice steady, but the words have a sharp edge. There’s a reason she’s only speaking of this to us, and not her entire court.Has something frightened the Queen of the Below?
“I’ll look into it personally.”
“As will I.” The Nightingale steps forward.
