“The Gardens of Ithilias.” I remember Kairyn telling me about them back at Queen’s Reach Monastery. The source of all magic in the Vale. “How is it here?”
“Once thought lost, it was preserved in the tundra. From what I’ve heard, it’s been the cause of conflict between Winter and the Below for centuries.”
“This is the rose Sira stole,” I say, transfixed on the glittering pieces. “What does itdo?”
“Well, I’ve just retrieved it from Keldarion and begun working on it. But as far as my understanding goes, it’s a conduit for the strength of one’s will. Sira used it to create monsters of her own or transform beings of this world into her twisted creatures. With it, she could force them to obey her every whim. But when it was lost, so too was her ability to create anything else. Some monsters still choose to serve her out of some perverse sense of loyalty.”
“Like her goblin army Below,” I say.
“Yes, but others run free. From what I hear, the Briar goblins attacking Autumn serve no master. They’re feral.”
“Or the harpies Ezryn faced in Summer.” My chest heaves, eyes darting over the broken pieces. It doesn’t look much like a rose anymore but a shattered mirror.
“Rose, listen to me. We cannot let this fall back into her hands. Who knows what kind of monster she would create with it? Or what she would do if she could rally all her demons that are running loose across the Vale.”
“Then why are we repairing it? Shouldn’t we be breaking it further and scattering the pieces across the four realms so she can never find them?”
Papa is quiet for a long moment, face solemn. “It’s not only Sira who can use this. Whoever has the rose in their possession can pour their will within it and control whatever has been made from its magic.” He holds my gaze. “Imagine the legions of Sira’s creations at our command. We could call off the feral goblins in Autumn. Order Sira’s own troops to attack her tower in the Below.”
I turn away, concentrating on the long pipes running across the ceiling. It feels like there’s a rock in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t know, Papa. It doesn’t seem right, to control the will of someone else. Even if they are goblins or other monsters. They didn’t ask to be made.”
“I agree with you. I don’t like it either. But what options do we have left? How can we afford to pass up any advantage we have when the fate of the Vale is at stake?” He grabs my wrist. “This isn’t about my life. You know as well as I do if Castletree falls, the realms fall with it.”
The rock only seems to get heavier. I squeeze my eyes shut and nod.No more compassion for monsters, Rosie. That’s how people get killed. “So what are you doing here?” I gesture to the broken shards.
A twinkle appears in Papa’s eyes, and a bit of that unease inside me loosens to see him light up. “It’s incredible. This rose…it’s not fully organic matter, but it’s not all inorganic matter either. See how when I slide two little pieces together, those tiny tendrils pop out and fuse? All on its own! Yet here, it’s more like ore. It needs heat to meld.” He shakes his head incredulously. “Absolutely fascinating. But I need to piece it back together. It’s tedious stuff. I can’t mess up.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and squeeze. “You’re incredible, Papa. Winter is lucky to have you here. I’ll let you get back to your work.”
I head toward the doorway.
“Rosie?”
Turning, I see Papa is standing, twisting his hands together, eyes shifting from side to side. “Yes, Papa?”
“Do you…do you know Wrenley?”
A cold prickle races up my spine. My father’s gaze meets mine, and mutual understanding flickers between us. He knows he has another daughter, and he sees in my face I know about my sister.
Papa clears his throat. “What is she like?”
I still every muscle in my entire body, no choice but to weather the memories roaring over me like an avalanche. What is Wrenley like?
A liar. A villain. Amurderer.
I wanted to love her. No, not wanted to. I had loved her. In that moment, when we stood knee-deep in water in the colosseum, all I cared about was the pain etched across her face and the desire to take it away. My heart was weak with pity.
I can save her, I had thought.My love can save her.
Hah. Rosalina and her savior complex. My own arrogance disgusts me. Love can’t fix everything. It hadn’t fixed Ezryn when he wouldn’t break his curse. It hadn’t saved Cas fromgetting stabbed with briars. And it sure as hell hasn’t helped Keldarion. Who did I think I was, believing my pathetic love would change Wrenley?
Is my mother’s bargain what allows Sira to control her? That flood of darkness that washed over her when she picked up the bow? Even so, a thousand choices led her to that moment on the rooftop where she held my bow and drew it, arrow pointed at Dayton’s heart. If I hadn’t saved Wrenley’s life, she never would have fired.
Dayton never would have died.
“Papa,” I whisper, “Wrenley is?—”
“It’s okay, Rose.” He interrupts me. “Actually, I think I’d like to find out for myself.”
