Farron and Dayton crowd around me. “We’re too late,” Farron breathes.
The door behind us bangs open, and we turn.
Standing in the doorway is a massive white wolf. A white wolf I have never seen the likes of, and yet I feel his heart as strong and hopeful as if it were beating in my own chest.
His fur is the color of freshly fallen snow, eyes gleaming like sapphires. Icicles jut between tufts of white, but these shine as if filled with diamonds. Sprigs of holly weave through his mane, a reminder of the life that exists in Winter. It is the most majestic creature I’ve ever seen.
“We’re not too late,” Keldarion says, voice deep and powerful. “Not while the strength of our hearts remains. Will you fight with me, brothers? For Winter, for Rosalina, for the Vale?”
He is not Erivor, nor is he the Keldarion that once was. This is the High Prince of Winter in all his power.
This is the Sworn Protector of the Realms.
And one day, when Rosalina returns and comes into her throne, the future King of the Vale.
I fall to my knee before him and bow my head. Dayton and Farron do the same.
“For Winter,” we repeat. “For Rosalina. For the Vale.”
95
Keldarion
Looking down from the walls of the keep, I can tell there’s anair of desperation in the streets. The snow that gathers on every corner is stained black with falling ash. People move quickly, gathering food into burlap sacks and loading carts pulled by reindeer and horses. But there’s nowhere to run to.
Lava will spread across all of Winter until each citizen has paid for the injustice of our first high ruler. Will Faustrius’s thirst for vengeance finally be quenched?
We’ll never know. I won’t let it happen. Not to my realm, not to my people. Not to Faustrius. Because only when this deed is done will he discover how thickly blood coats your hands. How impossible it is to scrub off.
Ezryn, Dayton, and Farron remain a step behind me in their fae forms, their presence giving me strength as I venture beyond the keep out into the city. People are shouting, crying, pointing up at the plumes of smoke covering the sky. But they stop as soon as they see me. See the wolf.
My paws make heavy imprints in the snow as I walk toward the square. I keep my chin raised high, gaze forward. My people’s stares feel like shots of lightning.
What do they see? A monster made of ice and snow, come to destroy them before the volcano can? This is what I tried to shield them from all these years. Is there a difference between the beast and whatever I am now?
I look behind me to the keep, ready to run back before my people abandon the notion of fleeing and choose to mob the beast instead, when something catches my eye. Someone standing atop the rampart, smiling down at me.
Astrid.
Standing tall, with her thin white hair draped over her shoulders, red eyes gleaming. Not a hare but herself, the brave girl who’s followed me for over twenty-five years, no matter what form I’m in.
I’m not a monster to her. My love—Rosalina’s love—created this form. And created the man within it.
I keep marching.
The townsfolk have restored the square from Caspian’s destruction. Never again will I allow my city to come to ruin. Frostfang stands strong once more. The platform where Rose and I exchanged our vows remains untouched, the ice arch above it glistening in the cold light.
The wolf has shown himself. Now, it is time for the high prince to reign.
Shielding myself behind the platform, my form shifts, shivering into the fae man once more. My brothers quickly outfit me in armor of silver, and Ezryn lays a blue cloak around my shoulders.
“It is time,” he says.
They walk out to the front of the platform, awaiting my next move.
I take a deep breath. My citizens have not fled from the sight of the wolf. They peer around questioningly, looking for him, eyes wide and uncertain.
I step out from behind the platform, then walk up the wooden steps. A part of me wants to shrink away from their gazes. There are so many people staring at me. But I have hidden from them for long enough.
