Caspian has dropped his black cloak, which lies like pooled oil on the floor. In contrast to his usual attire, his shirt seems too casual, just a loose black shift, the laces undone to his breastbone. Dark hair spills over the edges of the table. His mouth, usually twisted in a smirk of some kind, is set in a firm line.
He looks … sad.
I can understand what drew Kel and Rosie to him in the first place. Even for the fae, he is an otherworldly beauty.
One of the books I’m leaning against slides out from under my elbow and clatters to the floor. I lose my balance, barely catching myself on the shelf.
Caspian sits up, startled. When he sees me, he rolls his eyes then lies back down, continuing his game of catch with the apple. “Has the great High Prince of Autumn come to chastise me?”
“No,” I say, attempting to regain my composure. “I happen to like libraries.”
“Sure, sure, that’s why you’re here.” His sigh seems to reverberate throughout the entire library. “It’s a hopeless cause.”
“What?” I walk over and lean against the table he’s on.
“Saving the Queen.” Caspian doesn’t look at me, still focused on his apple. Up, down. Up, down. “I know it’s so much more entertaining to imagine me as your perfect villain, entrapping the bloody Queen of the Vale in my dungeons Below and manipulating all of your gnat-like minds. But that’s not why I kept the truth from Rosalina. From any of you.” He catches the apple, and his fingers turn white around it. “Saving her is a hopeless cause. I should know. I’ve tried.”
I stare at him. All these long decades, I’ve hated this man. Hated him for how he lied to Kel, for the war he brought upon the Vale, for the lives of so many of our loved ones who paid the price for his deception.
At the same time, he’s kept Castletree standing where we could not. He’s saved Rosalina’s life and he’s here, pouting on a table in a castle of monsters that want to kill him, instead of running back to Below and telling his mother everything he knows.
He reminds me of someone. A boy who hid in an alder tree. But his hideaway is not a place, but a mask he wears around everyone to keep them from understanding who he truly is.
“Nothing to say?” Caspian throws the apple up in the air again.
I catch it, bring it to my lips, and take a bite. “I understand now.”
“Understand what?” he spits.
“You, Caspian, are afraid.”
He sits up, scoffing. “If you’re not, then you’re more foolish than I thought, little pup. You have no idea what my mother is planning.”
I duck in front of him. “Then enlighten me.”
“What good would it do? Even with your curse broken, you’re no match for her. There’s no winning this fight. Best we can do is stay alive. I’m trying to keep you fools that way, and stars know it’s no easy task.”
“So, let me get this straight.” I take another bite of apple right in Caspian’s face. “The Prince of Thorns, renowned for his love of games and wagers, is too afraid to even check the stakes?”
Caspian pushes on my chest and shoves away from me, stalking toward the book stacks. “Listen to me. This is where you all have it wrong. You think Sira is the one who needs defeating. But it’s not her you should be afraid of.”
“Then who?”
He looks back and smiles. “It’s me.”
“Why, Caspian? If you wanted to kill us, you could do it right now. Use your thorns to crush Kel, Dayton, and Ezryn’s roses. Without them, you could take me out easily. You won’t do it, whether because you’re insane and just like to torment us or because of some sort of strange sense of loyalty you have. So why should we be afraid?”
Caspian grabs a book, flips it open, tosses it over his shoulder. “I told you to make me human. How’s that going, professor? Any spells in any of these? A curse, even? Fuck, I’ll take a bargain if it would work.” Book after book he opens, slams shut, throws behind him. I cringe each time the spines hit the hard floor.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I drop the apple and rush over to him. I snatch the next book he picks up out of his hands and place it back on the shelf. He goes to grab another one, but I snag his wrists and hold them still. “You don’t have to be afraid of this,” I say quietly.
He sneers down at where our skin touches. “Of what?Holding hands?”
“Of telling me one true thing about you.” I offer him a crooked grin. “Come on. You already think we’re incompetent idiots. What am I going to do with one little secret about you?”
The moment stills between us. Neither of us moves. He’s considering it.
Then, he looks up at me and his eyes are pure green. Emerald flames flicker over where our hands touch. Instead of radiating heat, it’s like they burn withpower, their fuel the very energy between us.
