“I just… I realized something.”
“What?”
He sighs deeply. “I have one good reason,” he murmurs.
I raise a brow, but before I can question him further, he crosses the distance between us and kisses me hard and quick, then paces to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To return to Keldarion. I will not let him suffer as a beast alone.”
“Will he hurt you?” I ask.
Ezryn shakes his head. “He is not so far gone, I think.”
I nod and cast my gaze to the window. Gray clouds have covered the sun, and snow has begun to fall, obscuring Mount Rhuvenmark. “Farron heading to Autumn, Day and I to Castletree, Keldarion here in Winter. Ezryn, what will you do?”
He opens the door. “What is best for you, my queen.”
9
Caspian
“This is how I like the precious Prince of the Below! On hisknees and weeping!”
“Lookit him. Not so tough now, are ye, pretty boy? Where are ye thorns?”
“Stab me! Pierce me with your thorns! Try it and see what the fire does!”
Voices crash around me, but their mocking jeers are no more than a haze. Their words have as much meaning as the hiss of fire surrounding me.
“Caspian!” a man growls, the sound of my name guttural. “Look at me, Caspian.”
I pry my lids open. Immediately, heat sparks across my vision. There is nothing but the fire. Red bars of a prison trap me on all sides, though it is not made of steel. The bars are forged of flames.
My cage swings from a long chain as I hover fifteen feet above the courtyard of my city, Cryptgarden. The square is crowded with his minions. He, the one speaking now. The one my mother put in charge of my imprisonment.
Emberlash catches my gaze through the flickering flames. A horridly ugly fae, banished from Autumn for his twisted use of fire magic, he grins up at me with a mouth full of teeth filed into points. His bald head, covered in tattoos, shimmers in the light.
“Hah. The great and terrifying Prince of Thorns.” He laughs. “You like my fire, Caspian? You loved it across your back all those times. My whip knows your skin intimately, doesn’t it, sweetling?”
I close my eyes, barely taking notice of him. I can’t lose my concentration. No matter what he says. No matter what pain I endure.
This cursed fire has burned everything away: my clothes, my leather boots, even my briars.
I wish it would take the rest away. Sear the skin from my bones, turn my hair and eyelashes to kindling. End me all together. But that’s not how Mother operates. No matter that this fire is hot enough to set my nerves alight, it will never mar me.
My mother believes one thing above all else.
In my suffering, I am perfect.
I can’t do anything but remain curled in a fetal position. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s dripping with lava. My fingers are in such pain, I can’t unclasp them from clutching the one possession that didn’t burn. Within my grasp is Rosalina’s moonstone token. Fire burned the chain, but it could not destroy this. Unfortunately, it’s useless to me. The magic of Castletree can’t reach down here, though even if it could, I doubt it would respond to me at all.
Rosalina. My mate. How many times has the thought of her protected me during my mother’s various tortures? But the imaginary house I built within my mind is burned away. The petals are ash, the vines nothing but streaks of black upon thebarren ground. Even Rosie couldn’t survive this pain. When I try to picture her, all I see is a charred corpse reaching out for me.
She can’t protect me here, but I can still protect her. It all comes down to one thought, one resolve.
Keep it out.
