Page 14 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

13

Rosalina

M y heart leaps in my throat as my body shimmers back into corporeality, arms still wrapped tight around Dayton. He had summoned the magic mirror to take us to Florendel, the capital city of the Spring Realm.

My feet land on dark pink cobblestone, the edges filled with fluffy green moss. Dayton still has a grip on my shoulders, but quickly lets go. I look around, making sure Astrid and Marigold made it safely through.

As soon as we realized the goblins were wielding Spring steel, Dayton and I rushed back to Castletree and sent word to Farron and Kel. I got dressed quickly and packed a single bag. Then I grabbed Kel’s sheathed Sword of the Protector and met Dayton at the mirror.

“You aren’t thinking of heading to Florendel without a guide, are you, toots?” Marigold had chastised Dayton, digging a finger between his pecs before giving them an affectionate pat.

“I’ve been to Spring plenty of times,” Dayton had groaned, but Marigold had made up her mind.

“Things are different in Florendel. You’ll get eaten alive.”

“If Marigold’s going, I’m coming too!” Astrid had cried, snatching my hand.

Now, the four of us stand in a tight cluster, staring around at the capital city of Spring.

I take a deep breath; the air is humid, a lush, fresh dampness to it. But there’s something else—the tang of metal and wet stone.

“Ezryn will be staying at Keep Hammergarden,” Dayton says. “This way.”

“You mean this way,” Marigold says, brow raised. She waves her hand. “Follow me.”

Dayton rolls his eyes but obeys, while Astrid and I toddle behind. But I can barely walk in a straight line: there is so much to see, to hear, to take in.

A majestic cityscape sprawls around us, all overlooked by a towering mountain range that seems to scrape the very sky itself. The metropolis is infused with ornate buildings, wrought-iron balconies, and colorful pastel-hued facades. The streets, made of cobblestone, are adorned with lush gardens, where bubbling fountains and decorative tilework make them appear as serene oases. The buildings are all made of brilliant pink stone.

“This place is amazing,” I whisper as I stare upward, trying to glimpse the tallest peak.

“That’s Mount Lumidor,” Astrid says. “It’s one of the highest mountains in all the Enchanted Vale.”

Its sheer grandeur dominates the skyline. Cascading waterfalls and emerald patches of vegetation dot the slopes. It feels as if the city itself is cradled in the mountain’s embrace.

“Florendel is renowned as one of the most magnificent cities in all the Vale,” Astrid says, her red eyes darting around almost as much as mine. “Both a natural wonder and a place of industrial craftsmanship.”

I understand what she means. I turn in a circle, taking in the vibrant city. It’s the busiest place I’ve ever seen in the Vale, with fae bustling past us, pulling carts or running in and out of storefronts. No one even gives us a second glance, many with blank expressions focused on their intended task.

“Don’t be intimidated by the hustle and bustle, girlie,” Marigold calls from up ahead. “We Spring folk can be single-minded in our work. But that makes the place even more exciting, doesn’t it?” She nudges Dayton playfully in his side.

But Dayton gives no reaction back. A severity has taken over his expression, one that doesn’t seem to belong to him.

My heart aches. I truly thought, in the deepest depths of my soul, you belonged to me. How can there be someone else?

I take in a shaky breath to stop my thoughts from spiraling further. That’s it. It’s done. Dayton is not my mate—there’s someone else for him.

As foreboding as goblins wielding Spring steel is, perhaps it’s just what we need to refocus our attention.

Both delicate and massive flowers adorn every storefront, every walkway. We pass under a moss-covered archway that drips petals in a variety of colors. But it’s not the pastel meadow I’d once imagined when I thought of a faerie city of Spring: there are glimpses of mining and metalwork underneath the vibrant blooms. In the distance, I hear the clash of metal on metal and the hum of a machine.

“The stone is so beautiful,” I say to Marigold, looking around at all the rose-colored buildings.

“It’s made from volcanic rock mined in the Starweaver Mountains,” she says. “Is my city not magnificent?”

“Stay vigilant and mind your tempers,” Dayton says, his voice low and serious. “Ezryn’s father, Thalionor, is as straight-edged as a blade.”

“And not exactly your biggest fan, if I remember correctly,” Marigold says.

Astrid heaves up her skirt to hurry beside Dayton. “Didn’t you accidentally set his Royal Botanical Garden on fire one Spring Solstice?”

“It was a long time ago,” Dayton snaps. “That damned thorny prick thought it would be fun to make our own fireworks—”

“You mean Caspian,” I say lowly.

Dayton picks up his pace. “Like I said. It was a long time ago.”

“The Prince is right though, Rosalina,” Marigold says. “The royal family has always been very strict. Best to keep your wits about you until we find Prince Ezryn.”

I nod and walk closer to Marigold. It’s like being back in her home realm has imbued her with extra confidence. She struts with chin held high, hips sashaying back and forth.

The buildings are low-pitched with clay tile roofs. Each door is elaborately carved with a facade depicting everything from nature to epic battles. I find myself lingering to take everything in, and Astrid yanks hard on my elbow so I don’t fall behind.

As we turn a corner, my eye catches on something up in the mountains, and I gasp. A massive cherry blossom tree juts out of the side of the cliff, seeming to defy the laws of nature. Its branches stretch and intertwine, forming an intricate network of paths and chambers. A castle.

Not just any castle. Castletree. Spring’s version of the illusion that appears in every realm.

And at its base lies a formidable keep carved into the very mountain itself. Huge rose-colored stone walls covered in ivy block our path, hemming in giant wooden doors engraved with spiraling leaves. It reminds me of Ezryn’s necklace. Castletree’s pale pink blossoms drift down like confetti, creating a pink walkway up to the gates.

Two guards stand sentinel on either side. They’re clad in steel armor with heavy helmets, yet their faces are not covered. Come to think of it, none of the citizens wore helms like Ezryn. It’s only the royal family who must cover their faces, I remind myself.

“Let me do the talking,” Dayton whispers as we approach the guards. “Hail, good servants of Spring. I, High Prince Daytonales, seek entry to the Hall of Vernalion for an audience with High Prince Ezryn.”

The guards look at each other, then back at Dayton. “Do you have an appointment?”

I catch the tic in Dayton’s jaw. “No, I don’t have an appointment. But if you tell Ezryn—”

“The High Prince ,” the other guard interjects, “is in a meeting with the steward. They are not to be interrupted.”

Dayton flashes a grin that could coax a smile out of stone. “I appreciate your diligence, but Prince Thalionor will be more than delighted to hear I’ve come—”

“Prince Thalionor is no longer the steward,” the guard says dully. “Prince Kairyn rules Florendel now.”

A strangled beat of silence passes between us. Dayton blinks. “Kairyn? That’s impossible. You must let me through—”

“No appointment, no audience.” The guard shrugs.

A cloud falls over Dayton’s face, brow furrowing with anger.

“We have to do something,” I whisper to Marigold, “otherwise I think Dayton’s going to be the first one to break his own minding-temper rule.”

Marigold clears her throat and pushes past me and Astrid to stand beside Dayton. “Why, if it isn’t little Antonio and little Filipe. I see you’ve finally made guard duty! Quite the improvement from when I was last here. Weren’t you both on latrine duty?”

“L-Lady Marigold!” the one on the left—Antonio—cries. “We weren’t expecting you!”

“You look as beautiful as ever, my lady,” Filipe mumbles. “Radiant as the sun…”

“Save it,” she barks. “A High Prince would never have been treated this way when I ran the household. And I can only imagine if the majordomo hears about such insolence—”

“It’s orders, milady!” Antonio cries. “Only those approved by Prince Kairyn may enter.”

“A High Prince requires no such approval. Bring me Majordomo Eldor and we shall get to the bottom of this idiocy.”

Filipe snaps to attention. “T-that’s not necessary. Prince Daytonales, we shall show you to the throne room. But … the others have to stay here.” His eyes flash to me and Astrid.

“They stay with me,” Dayton growls.

“With all due respect, High Prince, unvetted visitors are not allowed in the Hall of Vernalion. There have been dark deeds conspiring of late,” Antonio says.

I place a hand on Dayton’s arm. “It’s okay. You and Marigold go ahead. Astrid and I will wait right here. Once you find Ezryn, this will all be sorted.”

A pained expression flashes across Dayton’s face, but Marigold nudges his arm. “I’ll stay too and watch over her. Don’t get that pretty face in a knot.”

“Fine.” He heaves in a breath. “I’ll find Ezryn and be back as soon as possible. Don’t wander off.”

“My feet are planted.” I stomp my feet for emphasis.

Dayton sighs again then leans toward me, face tilted … A kiss?

But as quickly as the action overcomes him, he jerks back, cheeks flushing. “Uh, okay. Be back soon.”

The guards wave for another set of sentries to take their place, then march on either side of the Prince of Summer as he disappears within the walls.