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“I wish to gaze upon the princes of Castletree,” Anya said.

“Uh, don’t go anywhere,” the girl said, then hopped off down the hallway.

Through the doors, Anya glimpsed the entrance hall, which shone a million different colors from the morning light pouring in through the stained-glass windows. Anya sighed. It had been so many years since she had been here, but homes had a way of not changing much, no matter how long you were away.

Anya took a single step inside and saw the patch of roses along the door. They were blooming bright and beautiful and red. Anya picked four of them.

“Those are not yours to take,” a deep voice rumbled from the top of the steps, and Anya turned to see a figure, tall and imposing. Wild white hair formed a mane around his face, which was twisted in a scowl.

Rosalina’s beam of light struck straight into the High Prince of Winter’s chest.

Anya sighed.

Her gaze dropped to his wrist, where a bracelet of thorns and ice lay. What bargain did you make with the High Prince of Winter, Caspian?

Anya smiled. “What use do you have for roses anymore, Keldarion? Everyone you love is gone.”

He blanched before he stormed down the stairs. “Leave. This castle is not accepting visitors. What realm are you from?”

Anya pulled back her hood. “One very far away.”

“A human,” he sneered before his eyes dropped to her necklace. “With the symbol of the queen. Where did you find that?”

“Careful. Appearances can be deceiving. I would walk the halls of Castletree.”

“I have no interest in riddles, and you are not welcome here. Take your flowers and leave.” Ice crawled out from beneath his boots.

If she hadn’t already witnessed the magnitude of his magic in the chasm, she would know it now, for she could feel it. It curled at her edges like waterlogged paper. When was the last time she felt Winter’s chill so strongly? Not since Elowyn, her first Sworn Protector of the Realms.

Her fists clutched tighter. And what is he doing with it?

Three other figures came down the steps: the Spring Prince who still reeked of blood, the Summer Prince who stumbled with drink, and the Autumn Prince who cowered behind him.

Three beams of light burst into their chests. Anya’s scowl deepened. What were the stars thinking?

“Oh, princes of Castletree, I have a great use for these roses.” Anya smiled, then disappeared into a mote of light.

She darted through the familiar halls, ascending quickly into the Queen’s Tower. And there they were, planted in the earth before a brilliant stained-glass window. Remnants of the Above. Four bright roses.

Roses she had taken from the Gardens of Ithilias as her home fell from the sky. And when she planted them here, the roses gifted the realms and their rulers with incredible power.

Power these princes were unworthy of.

Anya transformed back into a human, clutching the new roses she’d plucked from the entrance hall. Their thorns dug into her palms, her blood leaking into the stems. And through that connection, she poured a curse.

Of malice. Of foolishness. Of cowardice. Of betrayal.

These princes did not deserve her power. Did not know how to wield it.

They did not deserve her most precious Rose.

So they would forge themselves into something better, or they would fall.

A great sacrifice for her as well, but that was what motherhood required. And she had forgotten her first child—the Enchanted Vale itself. If she were to do this, she could no longer hide in the human realm. She would have to return to the Enchanted Vale as queen. This curse would leave the realms vulnerable…

But she would protect the people.

And she would teach them, these failed high rulers. Together, they could right their wrongs.