We take a few steps inside. Farron’s hand flickers with power, and he mumbles under his breath. Tiny bursts of flame ignite in the air, each unfurling into the delicate shape of maple leaves that glow a soft, golden orange. The leaves drift lazily around us, casting dancing shadows on the tunnel walls.
“Beautiful, Fare.”
He turns to me, the flames reflecting in his eyes, and my heart skips.Damn, I love you so much. Then I wonder,Why did I just think that? Why don’t I tell him? Why don’t I scream it?I’ve spent so long denying my feelings for Rosalina and Farron.
“I love you, Farron.”
In the golden light, his cheeks darken. “What prompted that?”
“I don’t tell you enough.”
He smiles and holds out a gloved hand for mine. I take it as we continue deeper into the tunnel, lights dancing around us.
“This is curious,” Farron mutters. He breaks from my hold and walks to a section of the wall up ahead.
I move beside him. Carved images are cut into the stone, crude yet hauntingly beautiful. Farron gestures, and his glowing leaves flutter closer, illuminating the pictures. Fae figures are etched with flowing lines that suggest movement, as though descending from a castle in the sky toward a tall mountain.Farther along, the drawings blur and smudge, as if marred by time or clawed at by someone desperate to erase their meaning.
Farron wrinkles his nose. “What could it mean?”
“Maybe they got invited to a really spectacular party down in Winter,” I say. “Good thing Kel wouldn’t be born for thousands of years. He’s no fun at parties.”
“My first assumption would be that it’s the fae of the Above coming down after Sira destroyed their home,” Farron says. “There’s lots of art depicting that across the Vale. But I’ve never seen a drawing like this. Look here. These must be their portrayals of the Above and the Gardens of Ithilias. They don’t look destroyed.”
I stand behind him. “Are there any accounts of fae leaving the Above before it was uninhabitable?”
“Only the one of Sira’s descent.” Farron shakes his head. “Why would they want to leave? The Gardens of Ithilias blessed the fae with magic beyond words. Magic we see now only in the queen and fae who lived there.”
“Like Justus. Or Rosalina, who’s second generation.”
“Yes,” Farron agrees. “We princes may mimic their strength with our blessings, but the fae of the Vale only hold a seed of the power our ancestors did.”
I tilt my head at the blurry drawing of the Above. “Power like the creature that almost killed us?”
Farron is silent for a moment. “All the fae that once lived in the Above are long passed now. Justus has survived because he had Summer’s blessing once. Besides, the assassin must have been a creature of the Below. He had so many similarities to the goblins. But it’s true—he was powerful. It’s a good thing Caspian was there.”
“Oh yes, let’s all bow down to the great and terrible Prince of the Below,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Farron cuts me a look over his shoulder. “Never thought you and Kel would sound the same.”
A growl curls in my chest. A resentment I didn’t realize I’ve been holding on to. “Never thought you’d be like Rosie and fuck Cas.”
Farron stops and puts his hand against the wall. “Dead end.”
“Did you hear me?”
Sweat beads at the tip of Farron’s nose, and he shrugs out of his jacket and gloves, taking in deep breaths of the humid air. I follow suit. “We didn’t fuck. We kissed.”
“That would explain his scent all over you.” I can’t help this feeling crawling inside me at the thought of him kissing anyone besides me and Rosie. “When did you kiss?”
“In the Below, but that was a distraction. And in the library.”
“Why?”
“I spent a lot of time with Cas. Got to know him. I believe he’s a good person.”
“What about the fact that he’s stupidly hot?”
“I mean, he is.” Farron walks over to me and curls his hand at the bottom of my shirt, fingers slipping beneath the edges and over my heated skin. “But so are you.”
