Ezryn doesn’t respond but nods. While Dayton lingers behind, the three of us move in tense unison.
We’re drawn by the sounds of movement ahead—a clatter of tools and the faint hum of voices.
When we enter, I stop short. The throne room is alive with activity. Not just palace staff but citizens of Winter are here, working together. Some carry buckets of water to douse the lastof the green flames. Others clear rubble or work to restore the shattered castle walls.
A young fae woman steps forward, her silver hair tied back and her hands dusted with frost and soot. She looks up at me with wide, shining eyes.
“Golden Rose,” she says softly, her voice filled with awe. “We’re so happy you’re safe.”
The words catch me off guard, and a lump forms in my throat. I manage a small smile, nodding in thanks, but don’t trust myself to speak.
Then my gaze shifts, narrowing in on a familiar figure near the base of the throne.
Keldarion.
He’s not standing above them, issuing orders like a prince. Instead, he’s among them, lifting broken shards of ice, clearing the wood. His shoulders are hunched, his expression focused. There are no signs of the beast that fled yesterday.
He doesn’t seem to notice me.
I take a step forward, my heart aching at the sight of him.
“I need to check on my brother,” Ezryn says. “You know your path.”
I’d found time yesterday to tell each of my mates what had happened with Caspian on the mountain. My promise and vow. While they aren’t happy about it, my mates trust me.
“We’re with you always,” Farron adds. Dayton nods as well before they turn and follow Ezryn out.
I move deeper into the room. Keldarion lifts his hands, sprays of ice crawling up the palace wall, fusing a piece of wood in place.
I step forward. “Keldarion.”
He freezes, his back still to me. Finally, slowly, he turns, eyes meeting mine. They’re weary, clouded with pain.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
“Let me help.” I move closer. “I’m not great with ice, but maybe you can teach me.”
A thin smile appears on his face. “Just like summoning water but colder.”
“So simple,” I say, allowing him to guide my hand to the wall. A wave of magic pulses through him, and I summon my own to match.
A shiver shudders through my body, pulsing its way up my spine and tingling out of my fingertips. Ice grows along the broken wall, clinging to the wood and reinforcing a section.
Keldarion steps back, and a wry grin spreads across his face. “I’m sure the fae architects of old would scorn such a design, but it’ll keep the breeze out.”
“We do what we can.”
Keldarion looks down at me and gently touches my face. “I’ll only be another few moments, then we’ll talk. Promise.”
“Let me help.”
Walking to the far end of the broken room, I join a crew clearing rubble.
“It’s true,” I hear one of the fae say to his companion as they grab a large stone. “We heard the clatter in the ripe hours of the morning. Imagine our surprise when we looked out the window to see the High Prince of Winter himself repairing our shop.”
“Would have been a travesty without your bread, Giles.”
The other fae smirks. “It didn’t take long for everyone to join in, and the town was fixed up in no time. Not much damage there. Luckily, I heard the Golden Rose got to the Prince of Thorns before he could do more harm.”
