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We sit side by side, the crispy boughs of leaves locking us into our little world. Bright sunlight illuminates the freckles on Farron’s nose.

“Through every season,” I say, interlacing our fingers.

He puts a hand on my heart, over the seashell necklace and red gem. “And every storm.”

Then I kiss my boy, my little leaf, my mate, and he tastes like starlight.

68

Ezryn

Ican’t remember the last time my armor has been this polished. The bright sunlight filtering in through the windows bounces off my silver plates and helm, causing rainbow reflections on the floor.

Today is going to be an incredible day, when fae of all seven realms can rejoice. Rosalina will be named the queen I’ve always known her to be.

My tenacious, stubborn, compassionate mate. There’s so much joy radiating through the halls, it’s hard to imagine the time before she came here and upended all our lives for the better.

I touch the wooden token with the carved cherry blossom I wear around my neck. Inside, it holds the Hammer of Hope—the one thing I was always missing before I met her. Hope. It was worth holding on to.

Yes, today will be glorious. But first I need to find my brother. I didn’t see him for breakfast, so he’s probably in his guest room.

I enter the Spring wing and inhale deeply. Cherry blossoms cover the floor, and wisteria lines the boughs. But there’s another distinct smell too. Roses. Someone’s opened all the windows, letting in that rich smell that permeates the gardens outside. If there weren’t so many staff and guests running around, I’d take off my helm to better soak it in.

Up ahead, something catches my eye. There’s a person sitting on the sill of one of the windows, body stretched out so he’s nearly perpendicular. I quicken my pace.

It’s Jack, leaning far back in the open window, barely hanging on by his fingertips. The sun beams down on his face, making his wine-colored hair shine bright as fresh blood. My stomach loops thinking of the drop.

“Get down from there before you fall!” I grab his shirt—a simple white tunic—and yank him off the windowsill.

Jack lands on his feet with easy grace and offers me that clandestine grin. I notice his canine is slightly pointed, and with those clever eyes, he has a catlike appearance.

“Oh right. Can’t fly. Nearly forgot.” Jack gives his shredded wings a weak flutter. “So many others got wings when our brilliant new queen restored Castletree. But somehow, mine haven’t recovered.” The grin widens, gaze intense. “Wonder why. Maybe I’m cursed.”

I stare at him. Now that he mentions it, it is odd. Rosalina’s magic healed all Sira’s creations, even the underfae, but it also awakened the fae of the Vale’s ability to fly. The muscles in my back tense. I’ve only tried flying twice, but I’m nowhere near as graceful as my mate. At least I’m better than Dayton.

But Jack’s wings are as tattered as ever…

“You don’t remember anything from before you were trapped in that tree?”

He tilts his head. “Nothing at all. But aren’t mysteries fun?”

I personally have never enjoyed a mystery, and today’s certainly not the day I find my penchant for them. And perhaps I’m not the one meant to discover his secrets. My mind whirls, thinking of the way he looked at Wrenley.

I walk away from Jack. “I need to find my brother.”

“He’s in his room. Have you thought about my proposal?”

“No.” Jack’s been bothering me for weeks to convince Kairyn to take the mantle of leader of the Elderblood. Ever since Kai drew that sword, the fae of Airaleth have treated him like some sort of prophet.

Jack digs his hands in his pockets and leans back against the sill. “A great leader needs purpose and vision. I do believe Kairyn has purpose, but he certainly lacks vision. It’s something I have in droves. Consider it.”

I walk on, glad for the helm to cover my rolling eyes. Jack and his quirks are the last thing I have time for today.

At the end of the hallway, the door to Kairyn’s room is ajar so I give a light knock, then walk in.

Kairyn’s standing with his back to the door, hands clasped behind him. When he hears me enter, he turns and smiles. I can’t help but do the same.

With his underfae transformation reversed, he is how I remember him: several inches taller than even Keldarion, broad of shoulder, his dark eyes filled with experience. His wavy hair has grown to brush the edges of his shoulders. He looks like the man I know he is, and yet he appears to me like the boy more than ever—the little brother I now have an opportunity to understand and love like I should have since the beginning.