“And he could be stashing Spring steel up here,” Farron urges. “Listen—”
He begins to reiterate what we learned from Tilla, how a great number of weapons have been moved up to the monastery.
My focus breaks as a little girl dressed in white walks by holding a bouquet of stardrops. She smiles up at me and waves. I wave back.
Then her cheeks turn bright red. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
Before I can respond, she scuttles away.
I continue trailing after Ez and Farron, their voices now too low for me to hear. We pass an arched doorway, and I cast a look inside.
My heart stutters. It appears like a chapel, stone pews set before a dais. Behind the dais is a mosaic.
I stop, eyes completely caught by the artwork. It depicts a woman, her eyes closed, her body silhouetted by an ethereal glow. And all around her are the seasons I’ve loved so much throughout my life: in the upper-right quadrant, the cold comfort of winter depicted in pieces of blue and white ceramic. Below it, the gorgeous pinks and green of spring. On her other side, turquoise and coral make out the heat of summer. Above are the fiery reds and oranges of fall.
And hanging over the woman’s head is a briar blooming with red and gold roses.
Before I know it, I’ve slipped into the room, drifting over to the image as if drawn by an invisible string.
This must be a depiction of Queen Aurelia. I feel a sense of kinship with her, a part of all the seasons that make up the Vale.
Something scratches at the tip of my mind, a feeling and a thought all at once. I squint my eyes at the mosaic. That feeling … It ripples down from my head to linger by my heart.
I touch my necklace. The Queen is gone. But what if some of her magic stayed behind? “Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says from behind me.
I whirl. Blocking the doorway like a living shadow is Ezryn’s brother, the banished prince of Spring. Kairyn.
30
Dayton
The late afternoon breeze tousles my wet hair, and I wrap my poncho tighter around my shoulders. My gaze drifts up to Mount Lumidor, where the monastery gleams like the point of a sword.When will Farron and Rosie be back?
“Hello?” A quiet voice draws me from my thoughts. The acolyte stands at the doorway of my balcony.
After our encounter on the mountainside, Rosie and Fare had continued up to the monastery, and I’d escorted the acolyte down to Florendel. She’d been on her way to deliver a special medicine they brewed at the monastery for the ailing Prince Thalionor. We’d been soaking, and despite being given Farron and Rosie’s dry cloaks, it had been a long, cold journey. Pressed against me on the back of a single ibex, I’d felt her shiver all the way down the trail until she finally drifted off to sleep.
Of course, I had no idea where to bring a damned acolyte, so I placed her on the couch in my room until she finally woke up.
She seems better now, some color returned to her cheeks. One of my tunics is notched around her waist with a rope belt, and oversized socks are pulled up to her knees. “It’s a little big on me.”
I can’t help but give a soft chuckle. She looks ridiculous. “I’d be more worried about your gods smiting you for changing out of your holy garb.”
That earns me an eye roll as she pads closer. “It doesn’t work like that. We worship the Queen. We give our energy, light, and prayers to the Vale in hope of calling her home. Some even believe that she’ll open the way to the Above.”
I peer through the clouds, but there is nothing to be seen except a blue sky. “Do you really believe that’s where we came from?”
The acolyte follows my gaze skyward. “The High Clerics gave many sermons on it, of the great wars between Above and Below. How the Below destroyed the Gardens of Ithilias—”
“But the soon-to-be-Queen stole four clippings from the rosebush, and from them, created the entire Enchanted Vale, a haven for all fae. We have myths in Summer, too.” I flash her a grin.
“I’d counsel you not to call it a myth next time you enter Queen’s Reach.” She sits next to me on the balcony edge. “And these clothes are fine. I’ll only be wearing them until I return to the monastery. Quite comfortable, actually. They smell … salty.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Can’t seem to shake that. I swear in the Summer Realm, your tongue is coated in a never-ending layer of sea salt.”
“I like it,” she says so softly I’m not sure I’m meant to hear.
My gaze returns to the monastery, and I give a sigh before turning to the woman. She plays with the ends of the rope tassel. Her short hair is drying into thick curls, and one piece falls across her brow. I think about reaching out and tucking it behind her ear.
