But a fever has overcome the crowd. Panic rushes through my veins, but there’s nothing I can do. Guests rip up the thorns and brandish knives and forks from the tables. A group rushes the dais and begins overturning the thrones. Ezryn and Dayton step before Keldarion, and the spark of magic erupts around them. A swirling water barrier forms as Dayton moves his hands like a conductor. Ez touches the floor and the ground beneath shifts, turning into churned earth and a tangle of roots so thick, the nobles surging toward them trip and fall. Kel stands stricken between them.
Where is Farron? Is he okay? I turn in a circle, locking eyes with a fae woman, her expression one of wild fervor. “You were dancing with the Prince of Thorns. Are you one of his succubae from Below?”
She holds the carved decapitated head of a swan: the remains of a fallen ice sculpture. “I’ll pound your fucking round ears into your skull,” she cries.
A scream on my lips, I fall back. But a breeze ripe with red and gold leaves blusters from Farron’s hands as he leaps in front of me. The fae woman sails across the room, the swan’s head shattering on the floor.
Farron turns to me, an auburn curl falling between his eyes. “Hurry. I have to get you out of here.”
He grabs my hand and I let myself be tugged across the ballroom. Total anarchy has fallen. Guards have formed a perimeter around the other three princes, protecting them from the rioting nobles, and others try to subdue them. But I see some guards on the other side, trashing the ballroom with their spears.
“What’s going on?” I cry.
“The Winter Realm has been burned by the Prince of Thorns before,” Farron pants, shoving me beneath a table as we attempt to pass through a heated tussle. “This is the culmination of fear and rage from that last betrayal.”
“But they’re taking it out on Kel.” My beautiful dress rips as Farron tugs me to the other side of the table.
“Well, Kel hasn’t exactly been a model ruler,” Farron mutters. “Come on.”
“But he’s trying to make it better!” I cry, panting to keep up. Where is Perth Quellos? He’s been the one ruling in Kel’s stead. But I don’t see him anywhere.
Farron shoves me out of a door and into an empty hallway. We sprint until we’re out in the garden. I blink up, trying to find the sun through the dark clouds.
Farron grabs his shimmering leaf locket and holds it out. The iridescent mirror beams with light. “Hurry, Rosalina. Think of your quarters in Castletree. You’ll be safe there.”
“Not without you.” I grab Farron’s arm.
He shakes his head. “I have to stay and help allay this in any way I can.”
“What about Kel? He’s in danger. They could kill him.”
“Ez and Dayton will never let that happen. I’ll never let that happen.” Farron touches my cheek. “Trust me.”
Doors clatter open and out streams a group of nobles holding carving knives and sharp thorns ripped from the briars. “Go, Rosalina,” Farron breathes.
I think of my warm bed in the castle, of sitting in front of the vanity with Astrid and Marigold. Of the murals of crawling ivy and lush meadows that remind me of sunshine and the smell of fresh earth.
I think of home.
With one last look back at Farron, I leap through the light and the calamity behind me disappears.
50
Rosalina
Iwatchhelplesslyasthe sun dips lower. Where are they? Why haven’t they returned yet?
I don’t know how long it’s been since I arrived back at Castletree through the mirror. Every minute feels like a year as my stomach twists and my mind races through all the horrible possibilities.
Even the servants who went to the Winter Realm haven’t returned. Could they be hurt? In danger? If they don’t get back soon, night will fall, and their secret will be revealed to everyone.
My ruined gown floats like an icefall over the blanket as I flop on the bed. I shouldn’t have left… But what could I do? I’d only have been a liability to the princes.
Maybe Perth Quellos was right all along.
I thought dancing with the Prince of Thorns was the peaceful resolution. How stupid I was. He really is a trickster.
Your precious princes are hiding something from you.