She keeps laughing, twisting around to face me and looping her arms over my neck. Our gazes meet, her warm brown eyes sparkling.
“I’d bring the stars down for you,” I promise.
She presses against me, head tilted up, and our lips meet, warm breath mingling. I pull her tight, kissing her like it’s the first time. It is, in a way, under this new sky.
My body heats from her touch, her kiss like sunlight. When she pulls away, the star-drenched horizon crowning her hair, I have to catch my breath at the sight of her.
“Thank you, Kel, for showing me this part of your world.”
It belongs to you, I think.You are in possession of every part of me. So then, Winter is yours.
Before I can speak, a silhouette appears behind her: two large wings, a round head, and talons. I tuck Rosalina close to my side. “A messenger.”
The snowy owl swoops down before us, hovering with great flaps of its wings.
“There’s a letter tied to its leg,” Rose says and reaches forward with one hand to loosen the knot. She pulls off a piece of parchment and hands it to me. The snowy owl soars back into the sky.
“This is my uncle’s seal,” I say. Rosalina squeezes my arm, and a sense of trepidation runs through me. What is so urgent he sent word overnight?
I unfurl the parchment and read my uncle’s shaky scrawl by the half-moon’s light.
“What is it?” Rosalina breathes.
“It’s the tunnels Caspian uncovered within the chasm,” I say. “They found a war camp filled with horned fae. Rose, the enemy is mobilizing for battle.”
31
Rosalina
Kel and I walk side by side down Voidseal Bridge, followed byan entourage of soldiers, handpicked by Keldarion from Frostfang’s elite. Bright sunlight burns my eyes. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I can’t seem to catch my breath in the cold. Is it obvious to everyone how fast my mind races, how my hands tremble within the elegant gloves I wear, embroidered with the sigil of Winter?
I try to remember everything I’ve learned from watching the princes take command or reading about my mother’s rule. Here, I’m not just Rosie O’Connell. I’m Princess of the Enchanted Vale.
The members of the Deep Guard have mobilized, their usual duties on pause for preparations. Baskets of arrows line the walls, and vats of oil with torches are placed nearby for ignition. Barricades are reinforced with iron and ice, and jagged stones are piled, ready to be hurled at attackers—all ways to turn the bridge into a death trap for invaders.
The Deep Guard stare at us as we pass by, then hurry out of the way. We cut a commanding presence through their ranks.I straighten my back, trying to pretend I have something to do with it, but I know it’s all Kel.
“I don’t like this plan,” I murmur to him. “We should be attacking our enemies, not walking straight into their war camps.”
“And I don’t like that you insist on accompanying me as envoy, but here you are. So we’re both going to be unhappy,” he responds, casting me his mostdeal with iteyebrow furrow.
“I’m Princess of the Enchanted Vale. It’s my duty to attend diplomatic missions.”
“Princess or not, you’re my mate. Your safety comes first.” He stops walking, causing our entourage to pause, then grabs my wrist and pulls me tight to his body. Everything about him exudes pure male energy.
I’m tempted to stand on my tiptoes and kiss that growly expression right off his face, but I know we’re being watched by both the Deep Guard and our own soldiers. I have to stay focused.
Jerking out of his grip, I keep walking. For that one moment, staring at Kel, I could forget what we’re doing. But when I look at the ice-covered lift ahead of us, I know I can’t escape this.
It’s been three days since we received the message from Irahn about the discovery within the chasm. Three days where I’ve been thrown into the reality of what it means to be a leader in wartime. Three days of councils and planning and making decisions that will affect not just my life but the lives of thousands of Winter citizens.
Most of our time has been spent in Irahn’s bridge house. The council was made up of myself, the princes, my father, Eirik Vargsaxa, the leader of the Tundrafolk, Irahn, and his best scouts. There, we learned exactly what Caspian uncovered after moving the briars from the hidden tunnels.
“There’s got to be a thousand strong down there,” one scout had reported. “A camp of them. They’re not fae. Not fae as we know, mind.”
“Underfae, that’s what we’ve dubbed them,” the other scout added. “They’ve all got horns like a goat or a bull or even a damned unicorn, some. Their skin ranges from white as ash to light green to moss to the color of slate. And they’re armed to the teeth.”
“Did you observe their weaponries?” Ezryn asked. “Who’s supplying them?”
