“I’m all right,” I call, holding the woman against my chest and swimming to shore. I lay her upon the grass. Farron and Rosalina circle me.
Farron places a hand over her mouth. “She’s not breathing.”
I touch my seashell necklace, searching for the particular token that houses the mirror, the one blessed by the Queen. In that, I feel my fading magic. But Summer’s Blessing was made from water, of the deep oceans and tides. I position my hand over her body, feeling for the water that shouldn’t be there. The water in her lungs. I drag it up out of her throat, a gentle stream coming from between her lips before misting away.
A moment passes, then she coughs, sputtering for air. The four of us breathe a collective sigh of relief.
“Easy now,” I say, putting a hand behind the woman’s back. The movement shifts her slip, and I catch the glimpse of a necklace, a string of seashells. Strangely similar to mine. “Are you all right?”
Her brown hair is a tangle around her face, and she brushes it away before she looks at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Blue like the sea, like the endless horizon. She clutches my arm and rasps, “Y-you saved me.”
29
Rosalina
Idon’t know if it’s because of the altitude or the immensity of the structure before us, but I’m struggling to breathe.
Queen’s Reach Monastery towers above us, an unbelievable skyscraper of gothic architecture and fae elegance. It stretches so far up that the top is completely covered by clouds. And we’re already so high in the mountains, it’s no wonder it’s said to be the closest point to the fabled Above.
It is a single building composed of thin and jutting towers, the walls made of golden stone, the spires gilded. Flying buttresses support the main structure, while ornate domes crown the other turrets.
Farron holds out his hand to help me down from my ibex. I let him but can’t tear my eyes from the building. It makes me uneasy; maybe because I realize just how small I truly am.
“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Farron asks as he ties our steeds beside a patch of stardrop flowers.
“I always dreamt of seeing the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State Building,” I whisper, not even able to blink, “but this would put them both to shame.”
“The Queen made quite an impact on the people of the Vale. This is their testament to her.”
“I’m sorry Dayton isn’t here to see it.”
After he rescued the drowning fae woman, Dayton had offered to escort her down the mountainside.
“He’s seen it before. Come on.” Farron places a hand on my back and guides me toward the doors.
They open as we arrive. Ezryn stands there, arms crossed. Farron had sent him one of his enchanted flying letters informing him of our impending arrival.
“I’m glad you’ve arrived safely. How was your journey up the mountain?” he asks.
“Eventful,” Farron responds. “As you can see, we’ve lost Dayton. But I’ll tell you about that later. Have you spoken with Kairyn yet?”
“No, I was just about to find him when I received your letter. Come. Tell me what is so urgent. Mind your words, though. There are ears everywhere.”
We step inside the entrance hall of the monastery. I gasp, chills surging up my body. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. The entire hall is lit with colored light drifting through the many stained-glass windows. It reminds me of High Tower in Castletree, but grander, more spectacular. Even the long rug we walk upon is opulent, the swirling designs telling a story I don’t understand.
It’s a hive of activity: a staircase disappears upward on one side, and an elevator shaft hums with movement on the other. Acolytes dressed in white and gold robes busy about, barely paying us any attention.
Ezryn and Farron’s conversation drifts in and out of my ears as I try to focus, but the surrounding sights are so distracting.
“I have to admit, my brother is right,” Ezryn says. “There seems to be a great improvement here since he replaced the High Clerics. The acolytes are well-fed, morale seems high, and the surrounding villages are protected from goblin raids.”
“Who’s been protecting them?” Farron asks.
“The new High Clerics. Kairyn calls them his Penta Conclave.”
Farron’s voice lowers: “Isn’t there only three of them? Kairyn and those other two helmet-wearing soldiers he’s always with?”
Ezryn hesitates. “My brother is a great warrior.”
