Of him.
“Despite the best judgment of many, I made an alliance with the Prince of the Below, who swore he had abandoned his mother and all allegiance to this dark realm.”
“The dark-haired boy. The one I saw in my mind’s eye speaking with Anya. There was something familiar about him …”
“Yes. Caspian. We decided to work together to find the rose.I even lived in the Below for a time while we searched. Eventually, we succeeded.”
“A valiant mission indeed,” George says. He watches me out of his peripheral vision, and it’s as if he’s reading me like a map. There are so many unsaid parts of this story. The love. The desperation. The bargain. But I don’t need to tell George for him to understand.
“Ultimately, our alliance was not to last. An ally of mine attacked Caspian’s home, and in return Caspian stole back the rose and led an army against Keep Wolfhelm. My mother perished in the battle, and I was captured by the Below. Thus began the War of Thorns, a terrible campaign that would claim the life of many fae.”
George sighs deeply. “There is no greater tragedy than friendships torn asunder by war. Pain knows no allegiance.”
“Just like Caspian,” I mutter. “The War of Thorns raged across all four realms. Frostfang was occupied, and the Below led a force against Autumn.”
“Ah, Dom and Billy spoke of this when we passed by the chrysanthemum field outside of Coppershire. They said a huge mudslide destroyed both the fae and goblin armies.”
I nod. “Those armies recently fought again, raised by Perth Quellos’s evil magic. Thankfully, Farron has now given them eternal rest.”
“You were captured during all of this?” George asks.
“Caspian chained me to a mountain within the Below.” I shrug as if this fact is no more jarring than saying I was out of town. “Ezryn, the same ally who first attacked Caspian’s home, climbed the mountain and rescued me. Although Ezryn was High Prince at the time, his father was able to hold back the Below’s forces against Spring, so Ezryn stayed to assist Winter. I gave him command of my army. He and my father worked together to take back Frostfang.”
“You went after Caspian yourself,” George says. It’s not a question. Insightful, just like his daughter.
“I needed to reclaim the rose. At least that’s what I told myself. Truly, I wanted Caspian to hurt the way he had hurt me. I challenged him, and we battled across the Badlands. I knew he was powerful, but during our fight he … erupted. This chasm, the tunnels, the green light—that was all a result of his betrayal.”
“Or his love.” George shrugs.
“Caspian’s love has always been a tempest.” My boots are too loud on the stone, the green scars too bright. “The rose was destroyed during our fight out on the Anelkrol Badlands. Sira could not use it to create any more of her armies, but nor could we use it to take control of them. The monsters, such as the goblins in the Briar, became wild, untamed. All suffered.”
“You’re sure the rose is gone forever?”
I take a rumbling breath. “Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I did it myself.” Images flash into my mind. Lavender eyes flooded with green. Ice battling with shadows, with thorns, with emerald fire. “My father died in the process of retaking Frostfang, and I received Winter’s Blessing. Between my newfound strength and Caspian’s Green Flame, our magic was untethered. The rose was the cost.”
“What came of this war?”
A joyless laugh escapes me. “Nothing. Hadria and Florendel were able to hold their borders, and after the mudslide destroyed the armies in Autumn and Frostfang was retaken, the Below had no choice but to retreat. As far as Caspian and I were concerned, when the rose was destroyed there was nothing left to fight for but the death of the other. I suppose there was a limit even to our anger.”
George is silent for a few moments; a strange occurrence for him. Then he says, “I’ve spent my life finding remnants of things people thought destroyed, and I’ve come to learn nothing is ever truly lost. Perhaps, Keldarion, a little piece of heaven may still be here in the realms.”
“Your delusion is charming.”
“So I have been told.” George smiles, then flicks his gaze past me. “Ah! Looks like we’re about here.”
The dim purple light of the Below’s horizon filters in through the tunnel. We quicken our pace until we step out from the cloistering walls into a massive chamber.
A colossal structure looms before us. The walls of the labyrinth rise into the murky sky. The stones seem ancient, yet unmarred by time. Intricate carvings adorn each one, depicting grisly scenes of torture and violence. I can only imagine how much time it would have taken to carve them. Grotesque creatures of stone stand on either side of the open entrance, their forms distorted beyond any recognizable beast in the Vale.
The maze is so large, there’s no way to tell how far back it goes or how long it stretches. But somewhere beyond it is the rightful Queen of the Enchanted Vale.
“Last chance to turn back, George,” I say. “I can do this without you.”
“No, you can’t, boy,” George says. He closes his eyes and touches his heart. Then, he snaps his eyes open and takes three steps into the labyrinth. “Left, I should think.”
