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Was this where they fell in love? Are they even in love? I wish I could ask her about it, but I know it would only push her further away.
I notice we’ve fallen behind the rest of the group. Ezryn’s walking shoulder to shoulder with Delphia now, drilling her on everything from defenses to inventory.
“Hey, give her a break,” Dayton says, tapping on the back of Ezryn’s helm.
“There are no breaks here,” Delphia snaps. “There’s life or there’s death.”
With that, she throws open the doors to Keep Hammergarden and leads us within the stone walls.
I take a deep breath. It’s a smell I’ll never forget, all at once rich as a forest yet with the ancient scent of stone. Of all the keeps, this feels the oldest, carved from the mountain itself, still carrying the knowledge of the first rock.
“Daytonales!” a voice booms, echoing through the stony entrance hall. Justus bounds toward us. It’s hard to remember he’s thousands of years old. Though his face bears lines of age and his hair, which reaches just below his ears, is a brilliant silver, he moves like a young man. But he is truly Aeneas, the first High Prince of Summer. Holding the blessing for so long has given him a life longer than even the healthiest fae.
“Justus!” Dayton cries and runs toward him, embracing his old mentor. “You’re alive.”
“I’ve lived through countless wars. You think I’m going to let this one take me down?” Justus laughs.
Keldarion steps forward, not even cracking a smile for this reunion. “Good. You’re here. We shouldn’t wait a moment. Delphia, call a council—”
Kel’s voice fades into the background as I’m distracted by the people standing behind him. There’s Wrenley, in her hot pink Orca Cove hoodie. But Cas is beside her, wearing an identical hoodie in purple, with the hood pulled up tight around his face and everything.
“This is serious,” I hiss, yanking his hood down. “What are you doing?”
He nods to Wrenley, then pulls his hood back up. “Solidarity.”
“You two are so weird.”
They flash me matching grins that have me rolling my eyes. Damn siblings.
“A war council is a fine idea, Keldarion,” Justus says, drawing me back to the conversation. “They’re trying to break us, but we still have the finest fighters in all the realms.”
At that moment, a shadow appears on the wall, right at the corner. My breath catches in my throat. It’s massive, a great, imposing stretch of darkness, revealing a helm with two curved horns. The owner of the shadow must be covered from head to toe in metal, for it forms the shape of spiked gauntlets and pointed boots. The menace raises their arm, casting a silhouette of a trident and shield, wielded as if to strike.
My heart hammers in my throat. “Watch out!”
The shadow disappears as the figure emerges.
Oh. It’s an armor-clad person, but they’re far shorter than they appeared and rather squat instead of broad. Their trident and shield are actually a fork and plate. Their armor is exquisite though, a yellow-gold emblazoned with flowers.
The figure lifts the riser of their helmet. I know those eyes. “Marigold?”
“Rose-ah-lina!” she squeals. Marigold bursts forward, running past the princes with nary a glance their way, besides to shove her plate and fork into Dayton’s hand. He happily takes it and begins demolishing whatever scraps were left.
“Look at you!” I cry, embracing her.
She steps back to let me ogle her ensemble. “Well, I am a woman of Spring after all. We all have our own armor. This was crafted for me by High Princess Isidora herself, stars rest her soul. You should have one too, given you’re mates with our high prince.” She casts a scornful look over at Ezryn.
He chuckles under his helm, then pulls her in for a hug. “One thing at a time, Marigold.”
More sounds of armor clattering ring down the hallway. Two new figures round the corner. Tilla, dressed in bronze metal but helmetless, strides toward us, her long, black hair flowing behind her. Trailing at her heels is Astrid, holding a notebook and fountain quill, desperately trying to record every word Tilla says.
They both stop short when they see us.
“Well, well, look what the winds dragged in.” Tilla crosses her arms and smirks. “Rosalina O’Connell, returned from beyond the Vale.”
“Rosalina!” Astrid drops the notebook and quill and runs into my arms for a flying hug.
I snatch her around the waist and spin her, a laugh bubbling up my throat.
