“We’ll have to stay here for a while,” Keldarion says. “Without the High Prince of Spring, it will be harder to restore life to Castletree.”
Rosalina usually stands to the side of us, but today, she goes to kneel before the Spring rose. “I’ll see if I can do anything.”
“Aren’t you a little bitter, Rosie?” Dayton mumbles. “He couldn’t break his curse and ran away. Left this place.”
Rosalina shakes her head. “I’ll find him again. My heart is resilient. I’ll love Ezryn forever.”
Even though she said Ezryn’s name out loud, a part of me wonders if she also meant Dayton.
The Summer Prince digs his fingers into the rotten soil beneath his turquoise rose. Kel takes a place before the sapphire rose, and I take my position in front of my own. It is a bright orange, blooming amid my mate’s golden briars.
“Together,” Rosalina says.
The four of us bow our heads. A dam breaks within me. Magic flows into Castletree through my rose. But Castletree doesn’t only take; magic flows up through me from Castletree itself, from her roots that weave deep into the earth of the Enchanted Vale.
My mind hums as we stay bent together. Magic courses around us for an hour, for two, until I forget my hands, arms, my legs. My body feels misty, and my entire self is filled bit by bit with this enchanted energy. Finally, a voice breaks through the haze in my mind.
“That’s enough,” Rosalina says. “That’s as much as we can give.”
We all fall back with a strange sort of weariness. Exhausted, but in a good way. My magic feels stronger, and as I look at Keldarion’s rose, I see it has risen slightly. Surprisingly, the Spring rose has perked up too. Lastly, I look to Dayton’s. The soil no longer appears rotten, the color of the petals brighter.
He sees me watching him, then smirks, waving his hand as a thin stream of water comes out and splashes me in the face. I can’t help but give a small chuckle, especially when I hear Dayton’s own booming laughter. With a mischievous grin, he shoots another spray of water toward me.
“Seems like the Summer Prince has found his magic,” Keldarion says, freezing the stream. Dayton flashes a grin at him.
The earlier weight feels lifted, even though all we’ve bought for Dayton is time. Renewing his magic hasn’t changed anything.
Frantic footsteps sound on the stairs, and we lurch to our feet. Keldarion crosses in two steps to Rosie and clutches her against him.
Rintoulo, the butler, bursts open the door with an anxious expression.
“What is it?” Keldarion growls.
“Master,” Rintoulo gasps, “a visitor just came through the Autumn door. It’s Rosalina’s father.”
CHAPTER 25
Keldarion
We rush down the stairs, Rosie at the forefront. Her every movement is frantic, nearly tripping over the briars that lace the stairway, pricking herself on a thorn as she pulls open the door. But as we run out to the mezzanine above the entrance hall, she slows. Tears shimmer in her eyes as she covers her mouth. “Papa!”
George stands in the hall below, looking around with his usual expression of wonder. It’s the same countenance he wore the first night I ever set eyes on an O’Connell. If only I knew how much throwing that old man in prison would change my life. Regardless of what Marigold thought of me in that moment, I can never regret it.
He wears a white nightrobe, and his feet are bare, but his face is shaved, evidence of the fine care he’s received in Autumn. His blue eyes are full of such life that one would never know he was previously bedridden.
A smile breaks across his face as he sets his sights on Rose, and his shoulders relax. “My girl.”
“Papa!” She takes the stairs two at a time, dashing across the hall and into his arms. Love and happiness wash over me through our bond, and I can’t help my own smile. Farron and I exchange contented looks, then head down the stairs toward them, Dayton trailing at our heels.
A strange shiver runs down my spine, and I look up to see a large cluster of briars by the bottom of the stairs. Caspian sits atop them, dangling one leg down, eating a plum. He watches Rosie’s reunion with a bemused expression.
“You’re all right?” Rosie asks, putting her palm to George’s forehead.
“I feel just fine,” he chuffs. “A bit groggy, I suppose. I opened my eyes, feeling like I’d been away for a hundred years.”
“You mean, been asleep,” Rosie says.
George shakes his head. “No, it didn’t feel like sleeping at all.”
