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“Day, please—oh gods—don’t stop,” she pleads, and I slam into Farron so hard it shoves him forward, makes Rosie’s body jolt. Her head rolls back, mouth open in a silent scream, thighs clamping around Farron’s waist.

I reach for Rosie, pull her closer, and our mouths crash together. It isn’t a kiss so much as a claiming, messy and wet, teeth clacking, tongues frantic. She tastes like heat and salt and pure fucking magic. Farron is squeezed between us, rocked by every thrust and shudder, blinking through pleasure so intense his eyes are nothing but pupil.

We’re a knot of bodies and want, arms and thighs and slickness. I break from Rosie’s lips long enough to nip her chin, then trail kisses over her cheeks, forehead, anywhere I can taste her sweat and her starlit skin. She grabs the back of my neck with both hands, anchoring herself against this tide.

Farron breaks first, and it’s beautiful. His body locks rigid, then shudders violently, and he comes with a strangled shout, pulsing deep inside Rosie. She wails too, convulsing around him, her legs trembling so hard she almost loses her grip on the rocks. The aftershocks slam through her, and I feel every spasm grip and milk me through Farron’s clenched heat.

I drop my face to Farron’s shoulder, teeth scraping welted lines into his skin as I surrender to the pressure building at my base, the molten liquid lightning that coils up my spine and detonates behind my eyes. My orgasm rips through me, raw and savage, and I spill inside Farron in hot, endless pulses. The pleasure is so sharp it almost veers into pain, and by the time the tremors subside, my hands are shaking.

We fall back into the warm embrace of the water, floating in a tangle of blissful aftermath, barely able to disentangle limbs from limbs.

Rosie is the first to find her voice. “If I die tonight,” she pants, eyes closed, “scatter my ashes in this pool.”

Farron laughs, hoarse and shaky, and buries his face in her curls. “I think you killed me first, sweetheart.” He turns his cheek into her hair and breathes her in, the curve of his mouth soft and open. His skin is scored with crescent marks from my nails, red and perfect, proof of moments I hope he’ll never want to scrub away.

I gather them both, arms looping around torsos, and let us drift. My chest is still heaving, heart beating against the echoes of pleasure and the boundless warmth blooming in my ribs. “Just so we’re clear,” I whisper, “I intend on doing that every night until the sun burns out.”

Rosie’s smile ghosts over her lips. “We might have to let the others join in,” she says, but her legs wrap tighter around Farron’s waist, holding him in place.

Farron hums, already half asleep. “I guess we can allow that.”

Above, the will-o’-wisps return, darting and swirling in tight, delighted spirals. The night presses in on us—deep and blue and endless—but for once, I don’t feel lost inside it. The stars above us wheel in slow, dazzling arcs, and here we are below them, three parts of the same star who have found our way back together.

26

Rosalina

The next morning passes in heartbreaking hour after heartbreaking hour of futile attempts to light the forge. I sit with my back pressed against a broken pillar, watching my mates circle one another like a pack of lions.

Ezryn, Kel, Dayton, and Caspian stand, all shirtless and filthy from trying to work the forge all day. I can barely see Farron, he’s so far in the hearth, clambering around looking for any runes within.

“I told you, the Green Flame won’t light it,” Caspian snarls. They’ve been going at it for hours, so I’m not sure who he’s yelling at now. “What am I to you? A party trick? It doesn’t take.”

“Well, you’re the one trying to force Farron to materialize fire out of nothing. We’re drained, Cas. He doesn’t have his magic like you,” Dayton shoots back.

Ezryn’s pacing and flipping through Kairyn’s notebooks so rapidly, there’s no way he’s taking in any of the information. “There has to be something I’m missing. Something I can’t see⁠—”

“Give it up!” Kel roars, yanking the notebook and tossing it to the ground. “The answers are not in there! Just try it again, Ez.”

“Not while I’m in here, thank you!” Farron calls. He pops his head out, face covered in soot and hair sticking up on end. “Yeah, there’s nothing back there.”

Ezryn grabs his helmet, and a sound more reminiscent of his wolf reverberates from beneath it. “Everyone, get out of my forge!”

But this only elicits more pushback from the others, and they all begin talking over one another.

I stand. I can’t listen to them fight like this. And I can’t sit here doing nothing.

With the return of my briars, I’ve felt my connection spark again with the rest of my magic too. Unlike the seasonal princes, whose powers flowed from Castletree, mine is borne in my blood. But I’d tried lighting the forge with the white fire I learned to wield in Autumn. Nothing. Not even an ember.

Ezryn’s right. We are missing something. And I don’t think we’re going to find it in here.

I grab my satchel and make my way out of the cave, glancing back only once. Kel, Ez, Dayton, and Cas are still in each other’s faces, but Farron looks to me and tilts his head. My only response is a shrug of my shoulders.

Bright sunlight welcomes me as I exit, warming my skin. The clothing I’ve found is made of light, flowy fabrics. I’ve got on billowing trousers that taper at the ankle and a silk shirt with an open back.

Jack’s sitting on the ground, long legs sprawled out before him, with Farron’s backpack in the middle. He’s pulled everything out—the umbrella, the broken ukulele, the skillet, the rations. What wasn’t damaged before, he’s taken apart. I see my father’s pocket watch—another trinket from home Farron must have grabbed—is nothing but gears and glass.

“Hey!” I snatch the bag away from him and start throwing everything back in. “This doesn’t belong to you.”