I smile up at him. “Then let’s write the rest of it together.”
49
Rosalina
Spiderwebs of frost creep along the edges of the window as Istare outside. There’s a certain peace to Winter. The stillness of the snow, the quiet it brings. Though I wish I could see over the massive wall of ice that surrounds Keep Wolfhelm and to the town beyond.
Yesterday, the Festival of Tales had been a dream. It was amazing hearing the legends of the Winter Realm, seeing everyone come together. But more than that, Keldarion organized it all for me.
He knows how much I love stories, because a story was among the first things that drew us closer.
The Winter Prince may not be one for sweeping poetry or grand vows, but he shows his love in softer, subtler ways, and they warm my heart just the same. Thinking of the way he watched me from the corner of the stage, always making sure I was having a good time, sends a flutter of butterflies tumbling in my stomach.
My steps feel almost weightless as I cross to the wardrobe to pick out my outfit for the day. I decide on a pale blue dress that fades to lilac at the bottom with a navy corset.
A frantic knock sounds.
“Come in,” I call.
Before I finish speaking, Marigold barrels inside. Her presence is as dramatic as ever—blond curls in disarray, her cheeks flushed, and her wide, expressive eyes shimmering with worry.
“Dearie!” she exclaims, her voice pitched higher than usual. “It’s Astrid. She hasn’t…she hasn’t turned back.”
My heart drops like a stone, the peace I felt moments ago shattering into panic. “What?”
“I–I checked this morning, and she’s still a hare! White as Eldy’s bottom!” Her words tumble out in a rush.
“No,” I breathe, already pushing past her. My feet carry me down the corridor before my mind can catch up, Marigold close behind.
When I reach Astrid’s room, I fling the door open. There, on a pile of blankets on the floor, is Astrid, still a bunny. Her white fur, dotted with tiny patches of silver, rises and falls with shallow breaths.
“Astrid,” I whisper.
The rabbit blinks at me. “Rosalina, I…I’m having trouble changing.”
Relief floods through me at the sound of her voice. She’s not as far gone as Konreth.
“It’s okay, Astrid. I’m going to help you.” I drop to my knees beside her. My hands tremble as I brush her soft fur, magic humming beneath my skin. But when I reach for the tether that should tie her to her fae form, it’s so faint. I bow my head, pressing my forehead lightly to hers. “Remember who you are, Astrid.”
Marigold kneels near me, her fingers twisting in the hem of her embroidered gown. “I don’t understand,” she says, voicethick with unshed tears. “She was fine only a few days ago. Why isn’t she changing back?”
But was she? I think of Astrid in the market, how easily she tired, the weariness in her voice. This curse isn’t just getting worse for Keldarion. It’s getting worse for all the Winter staff.
“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice barely audible. “But we’ll figure it out.”
My gaze flickers to Astrid, her body shaking. I swallow hard. I’ve faced impossible odds before, and I’ll face them again. For Astrid. I’ll never give up on my friends.
I reach deep inside for that tether of magic, that tie to her fae form, andtug.“Remember who you are, Astrid.”
Then, beneath my hands, I feel a shift—a ripple of energy. I pull back, gasping as a soft, glowing light surrounds Astrid. It grows brighter, illuminating the room.
Then Astrid lies in my lap, no longer a rabbit but a girl again, her pale skin bare and shimmering with residual magic. Her red eyes blink up at me, weak but unmistakably hers.
“Astrid!” I cry, a wave of relief flooding over me. I throw my arms around her, pulling her close. She’s so fragile, her body trembling against mine, but she’s here.
The huge fluffy duvet falls over us as Marigold drops to our side, sobbing. “What would I do without you, dearie? Don’t you scare me like that again.”
“I agree,” I whisper into Astrid’s hair. “We can’t lose you.”
