I smile at the wink in her tone and grab Keldarion’s hand as he walks over to me for the final story.
“Long ago,” Eryndel begins, “before this realm was bound by thrones and a queen still ruled, there walked among us a ruler of immense power. A High Princess of Winter. They called her Eira—a beauty of ice and stars whose heart beat in harmony with the skies above.”
The crowd shifts, spellbound, their breaths misting the air. I lean forward, pulled into the web of her words. Even Keldarion stands still, watching intently.
“Eira was the third High Princess of Winter,” he whispers.
“One fateful day,” the old fae continues, “a great dam broke. The river it held was ancient and wild, a serpent of water that had slumbered for centuries. It surged forward, furious and unrestrained, set to drown an entire village nestled in the valley below.”
I can almost see it—the rush of dark, foaming water, the screams of villagers as they fled, hopeless against the flood.
“But High Princess Eira stood in the river’s path. Alone beneath a sky empty of clouds, she planted her staff in the earth. Her voice rose in song, a call to the heavens themselves, and the air turned to frost around her.”
A shiver dances across my skin. The crowd is silent now, enraptured.
“She reached for the stars,” Eryndel says, lifting her hand as if to grasp the very sky above. “And they answered. Down came the ice—shards of light, cascading like a storm. The river, wild and untamed, froze in an instant. A mountain of ice rose where water had once raged.”
Her eyes gleam as she sweeps her gaze across the square, and it feels as if she’s looking at each of us.
“The village was saved, the land quiet once more. Princess Eira’s magic turned chaos into stillness, ruin into beauty.”
The crowd erupts in applause, some whispering to each other about the truth of the tale. I can feel the magic lingering in the air, like the stars Eira pulled down in the story.
“Is that true?” I whisper to Kel.
“Winter’s blessing is powerful,” he whispers back. “Though I’m not sure about calling down the stars. Would you like to address the crowd?”
“Oh, I don’t know?—”
The old fae inclines her head, her crystal staff glinting one last time, and as she steps down, her presence fades into the hum of spectators.
As the final echoes of laughter and applause fade, I take a deep breath and walk to the center of the stage. Fighting monsters with golden briars I can do. Public speaking, on the other hand…
But I feel a tug on my bonds, feel each of my five mates watching me with such love it gives me courage. My heart pounds in my chest, and I clutch my hands together to steady myself.
“Thank you,” I begin, my gaze sweeping across the faces. “Thank you to everyone who came tonight to share your stories—the ones passed down from your loved ones, the ones of your lives, the ones that made us laugh and cry. It’s those tales that make us who we are.”
The crowd murmurs in response, a hum of agreement and affection. My throat tightens, but I press on, my voice trembling slightly.
“I have one last story to tell,” I say. “It’s not an old legend or a tale of grand kingdoms or mighty battles. It’s about a girl—a girl who came to a land of frost and thorns and met a beast.”
A hush falls, and I feel Keldarion’s gaze sharpen. He’s watching me, waiting.
“This wasn’t just any beast,” I continue. “He was fierce and proud, with walls of ice built around his heart. But as the days passed, the girl saw something more. She saw his strength, yes, but also his kindness. And,” I say, my cheeks heating, “his beauty. She realized he wasn’t a beast at all. He was a prince. A Prince of Winter with a heart so big, it could hold a whole realm.”
My voice catches, and I meet Keldarion’s eyes, feeling as if the entire square fades away until it’s just the two of us.
“As for the girl?” I whisper, the words tasting like truth on my tongue. “She fell in love. She learned to love herself. But she also fell in love with the Enchanted Vale, including the cold, beautiful realm he brought her into, with the people, the stories, and the magic they all shared. But most of all, she fell in love with him.”
The crowd lets out a collective sigh. I let the words pour out, no longer caring who hears.
“The beast saved her—again and again. And she would spend the rest of her days loving him in return.”
A cheer rises, soft at first but growing louder as the people clap, stomp, and whistle. I let it wash over me, my chest light, my heart full.
Keldarion steps forward then, his expression unreadable, until he reaches me, his hand outstretched. I place mine in his, and he pulls me close, his voice low and meant for only me to hear.
“Rosalina,” he murmurs. “You’ve stolen my story.”
