Before he can say more, a few members of the staff rush over to greet him. Many of them have gathered in the doorways, delighted smiles on their faces. Though George only stayed at Castletree for a short time, he had the same effect as Rosalinaon everyone who lives here, their open hearts making people instantly feel welcome in their presence.
Farron, Dayton, and I hang back, waiting for our own turns to say hello to the old man. I find myself straightening, checking my shirt for wrinkles—of which there are plenty—and attempting to smooth back my hair. Farron, always presentable, chuckles at me.
Something catches the corner of my eye. A sudden movement in the doorway leading to the dining room. The acolyte from Queen’s Reach Monastery pokes her head out from behind the corner. What was her name? Winnie? Wirley? No, Wrenley. That’s right. I suppose I should know it now that she’s Dayton’s mate.
I start to look away from her, but something in her gaze makes me pause. Her short brown hair falls over her blue eyes, but her stare remains transfixed on Rosalina and her father. There’s a sense of bewilderment to her, as if laying eyes on a gryphon or a winged horse or some other make-believe story from a children’s tale.
With hesitant steps, she creeps out from the doorway and enters the hall, staying behind all the staff waiting to greet George. Her movements are stiff, as if she’s in pain as she takes each step. But her eyes—those huge blue eyes—remain entirely focused, unblinking.
I nudge Dayton in the ribs. “Is your mate all right? She looks upset.”
Dayton glances her way for half a second, then shrugs. “She’s fine.”
Wrenley’s eyes grow bigger, now shining. Her hands form into fists. She starts to shoulder her way through the crowding staff.
Caspian jumps down from the briars above us, lithe as a cat. He says nothing to me but pushes past the staff and snags the acolyte’s wrist.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dayton lunges forward. He grabs Caspian by the back of his tunic and pulls him away from Wrenley. “Don’t touch my mate.”
Caspian yanks himself loose of Dayton’s grip and smooths the lining of his coat. Then he looks up at Dayton through his lashes with the smarmiest grin I’ve ever seen him muster. “Oh, Sunshine, Iliveto touch your mate.”
Dayton pulls back his fist.
“Wait!”
The cry halts Dayton an inch away from Caspian’s nose. It’s George, pushing through the crowd to get to the two of them. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Wrenley retreating and quickly dipping back into the dining room.
“What’s happening, Papa?” Rosalina asks.
George stands between Dayton and Caspian, then places a hand on Caspian’s face. Caspian sucks in a deep breath, body going rigid, expression … nervous? Is that possible for Caspian?
“These past few months, I’ve lived inside of dreams,” George says. “Watching moments play out that are so familiar, it’s as if I’ve lived them, yet when I search my memory, they’re like stories from a book I read about myself. Sometimes, I saw things that felt outside of my own being. Towering green crystals.”
“Go on,” Rosalina urges.
“I saw Anya’s reflection in those crystals.” George places his other hand on Caspian’s face. His brows lower. “And this boy was looking back at her.”
CHAPTER 26
Rosalina
“Isaw her. Anya. Trapped between the crystals, speaking with this raven-haired lad.” Papa’s hands tighten on Caspian’s face. “What do you know of her? Tell me!”
My chest heaves rapidly. I place a hand on my father’s arm to lower his grip away from Caspian. Is what Papa saying the truth? Is my mother alive and has Caspian spoken to her? Or are these the ravings of a sick man?
I hold Caspian’s gaze. His own chest moves quickly, in time with mine. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even blink.
“It’s true,” I breathe. “You knew where my mother was and you never told me.”
A symphony of low growls erupts behind me, and I turn to see three wolves stalking toward us. Rage exudes from each of them, from the pulled-back maw of the Winter wolf, revealing his icicle fangs, to the trembling fire ruff of the Autumn wolf, flames licking each step. The Summer wolf makes my heart seize; Dayton’s wolf looks like a shipwrecked beast, the golden fur dripping briny water, tangles of seaweed and shells encrusting his body.
“You knew where the Queen of the Vale was this whole time?” Keldarion growls. The staff scatter before this monstrous pack, and even Papa staggers away. “All these years, you’ve let her rot?”
My father said he saw green crystals; I’ve seen them, too. They belong to Sira. Which means my mother is in the Below.
I hold out my hand to stop the three wolves from getting any closer to Caspian. He’s backed up against the wall, not even daring to wield his sharp tongue.
The wolves stop at my command. I stride toward the Prince of the Below and unleash my rage upon him.
