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“Just wait until Rosie gives you wings,” I say.
He nips my ear. “I’m counting down the moments.”
We make it to the cluster of Elderblood, who part before Rosalina. They have surrounded a figure lying in the grass, body encircled with flowers. Silvery wings stretch to his sides, and I can only imagine how beautiful they would be in motion. A black sword juts out of the figure’s stomach.
We know this fae. His horns are gone, and his face is icy pale, mouth a solemn line. His long hair is woven with strips of fabric.
“Faustrius,” Rosalina says, falling to her knees beside his body. She brushes a hand over his brow.
Keldarion kneels on his other side, bowing his head in respect.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Rosalina says, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“But you did save him. Don’t you see?” Aquila says. “In death, he has returned to his true self.”
“He only ever wanted to free his people,” Keldarion says solemnly. “An honorable leader. Thank you for helping me learn what it means.”
Rosalina waves her hand, and more flowers bloom around his body. Vines adorn the length of the sword.
Aquila stamps her foot and casts a look at her soldiers. “I told one of you to take that thing out of him. Someone has to!”
But rather than obeying her, the Elderblood recoil, avoiding her gaze. Odd. I wonder if—
“I’ll do it.” Kairyn steps forward, tall and imposing but not in the manner he was previously.
His shadow casts over Faustrius’s body. A deep intensity steals his features as he grasps the hilt of the black sword and wrenches it free.
After cleaning the blade with his cloak, Kairyn extends the hilt to Aquila.
“Oh no, no, no.” She shakes her head. “That path is not for me. It takes a big, strong person to wield that sword.” She blinks up at him. “You’re a big, strong person, I think.”
A flush appears on his cheeks, and I don’t miss the agitated look Wrenley tosses Aquila’s way.
“It should stay with your people,” Kairyn insists.
The Elderblood all take another step back. “It is said that the first one to touch a blade of the fallen is bonded to it,” one of the Elderblood says. “And thus must take the place of the fallen. We let the sword find new masters. This sword has found you, Prince Kairyn.”
“Prince,” Kairyn says, saying the word as if he has no memory of it.
Ezryn clasps a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s a good sword.”
Kairyn stares down at the blade as if it holds the words he’s looking for.
A murmur rises in the air, and a crowd begins to gather around us: fae from all the realms and the newborn creations too.
“What’s everyone waiting for?” Rosalina asks.
Keldarion stands and offers her a hand. “For you.”
65
Keldarion
We return to the bridge that leads to Castletree, looking over what was once a battlefield, once a briar patch, now a great meadow full of life, a place for all the Enchanted Vale to come together.
“What am I supposed to do?” Rosalina whispers.
“Address them.” I take her hand.
