Page 16 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

15

Caspian

T here’s a list in my head of all the things that frighten me, with losing to Ezryn at a board game and finally inheriting my birthright being near the top. Being summoned to the Abyssal Sanctum fits snugly between them.

I pause briefly outside the iron doors and stretch my calf. My leg is almost healed, but I can’t let a single tremor show. Any sign of weakness would be especially problematic, as this is the first time I’ve been called upon since enduring my punishment for losing Autumn.

Throwing open the doors, I step inside. Towering columns line the walkway to a massive throne. Tall stairs lead to an elegant chair.

Crystals surround the throne, flickering green flames caged within them. Their jagged edges jut out at odd angles, casting a luminescent glow across the shadowy figure draped there.

Each stone seems to hum with its own arcane heartbeat, making the air heavy with magic. I resist hunching my shoulders. It always feels like I have two sets of judging eyes on me here.

I wasn’t the only one summoned today. Another figure already kneels before the green monstrosity. The Nightingale has her head bowed. The perfect servant. Not that she really has a choice. She’s dressed in her full armor, besides her mask. Sira loves to watch her expressions of fear.

I mimic my adopted sister’s movement and whisper quietly, “So, did you mess up or did I?”

Her blue eyes flick to me, and she hisses, “Shut up. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

A haunting voice cuts through the din, and we both fall silent. “My children. Rise.”

We both follow the command instinctively. My mother inclines her head. The green light slashes across her sharp jawline and that serpentine smile that often mirrors on my own lips.

A smile the Nightingale can never quite master, no matter how much hatred our mother fills her with.

“I’ve heard some disturbing rumors sifting down from the Autumn Realm,” Sira, Queen of the Below, says. “It appears I may have been too hasty when I discounted Quellos’s report of the girl who destroyed his army. I hear whispers of a woman who can wield briars.”

Inside, my blood goes cold, but I keep my expression neutral and avoid flicking my gaze to my sister.

“Some say she’s a human. Others, a fae.” Sira taps a pointed nail on one of the crystals lining the arm rest. “Now, Autumn is sending out decrees that the High Prince of Autumn has found a mate. Yet, I also hear she’s mated to the High Prince of Winter. So many stories. My son, have you gazed upon this woman?”

“Yes,” I say carefully, so carefully. “I’ve seen her.”

“Tell me, Caspian, was she familiar to you?”

That echoing serpentine smile spreads up my face. “Like a vision.”

My mother laughs, the dark sound resounding through the rocks. “The Fates never lie, do they?”

No, but they certainly withhold much of the truth, I think bitterly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the girl. They keep her at Castletree. As expected, the Winter Prince’s magic remains bound as he refuses to break the curse.”

“Because of your bargain?”

“Because of my bargain.” Absently, I touch the frosted thorn bracelet around my wrist. The Nightingale’s calculating gaze falls over me. Even she doesn’t know the full extent of what happened between Keldarion and me.

“Clever boy,” Sira praises.

“That she is also Farron’s mate is news to me,” I continue. “Or that she can wield briars. I’ve noticed no such thing.”

One dark brow rises on Sira’s face. I shouldn’t have said his first name. The Nightingale is still staring at me. We need to be dismissed before she mentions a certain party guest who summoned a patch of thorns in the Below.

“The people of Autumn call her the Golden Rose.” Sira keeps her voice steady, but the words have a sharp edge. There’s a reason she’s only speaking of this to us, and not her entire court. Has something frightened the Queen of the Below?

“I’ll look into it personally.”

“As will I.” The Nightingale steps forward.

“No need, sister. I’m sure you have your hands full controlling your wild dog of Spring. Didn’t you also recently accept command of the mission to take the Summer Realm?”

“Don’t fret, brother,” the Nightingale says with a steel-laced voice. “Our Queen requires someone with follow-through. You’ve been draining Castletree since before I was born, and where has that gotten us?”

“I want information on her magic and her bonds with the High Princes, but tread carefully,” Sira says. “If she has mated with the High Prince of Autumn, he will have regained much of his magic. Interferences from Castletree would be most detrimental to our plans. The Below cannot yet take on the entire Enchanted Vale and hold it under our control.” Sira turns to gaze deep into the green flame swirling within the stones. “Not yet.”

* * *

Risky. It had been too risky bringing Rosalina down Below for my birthday party. Now, the Nightingale knows of her magic, more rumors are surfacing, and it’s only a matter of time before Sira hears of the golden briars she summoned in Autumn.

It was a necessity. Rosalina had to awaken her fae self. I’d thought the only way was to bring her closer to the source of her magic, but my Rose was able to unlock it all on her own.

“Caspian.” The Nightingale grabs my arm as we exit the Abyssal Sanctum. “We need to talk.”

That we do. “Come on, then, Birdy,” I say, using the nickname I gave her. “Let’s get a drink.”

The Below is vast, stretching beneath all the Enchanted Vale. Just like the world above, some parts are more populated than others. Cities and small villages dot the deep chasms and interlacing tunnels.

Using thorns, Birdy and I traverse our way back to Cryptgarden, but I don’t lead her to the palace, where we both live. Instead, we descend the hundreds of steps to the city in the valley beneath. There, I take her to the seediest pub in the most twisted alley.

The entrance isn’t even labeled; there’s only a rundown sign with a sigil of a unicorn slashed with blood. The Bloody Unicorn. Not the most original or welcoming name, I’ll grant, but it’s among the few places in the Below where I’m sure my mother’s spies won’t overhear us. Besides, Dex, the barkeep, makes a damn good drink.

Birdy wrinkles her nose as she always does when we come here. The air is thick with the scent of fried food and the earthy undertone of strong spirits.

And blood, of course. There’s a whole splatter of it stained into the entranceway. The ne’er-do-well patrons know better than to stare at us as I procure a corner booth tucked into the natural rock wall.

Birdy puts a hand on her hip and glares down at me. “What do you want?”

I offer her a sweet smile. “Surprise me.”

She rolls her eyes and stomps off to the bar. I run my fingers over the sticky wood table. Just how much does Sira know of Rosalina? More than she let on? Less? And what exactly will she do when she figures out the truth?

The Nightingale plops two bubbling pink drinks on the table and slides into the booth. I grab one and down half of it before my thoughts can consume me. “This is delicious. What did Dex make today?”

“Who knows? I just told him to make it strong.”

I lean back in my seat. “You wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”

“You know more about Rosalina O’ Connell than you revealed to Mother.”

“Not so loud,” I hiss. But no one’s paying attention to us. Everyone here is deep in their own problems and drink, and the eerily upbeat music drowns out our speech.

“You’re the one who proclaimed her name during the party,” the Nightingale says. “What was it again? Whoever touches her dies a painful death?”

I clutch my drink to still my shaking hands. A stupid, rage-filled mistake. When that man had touched her—I inhale through my nose. Luckily, that name means less than nothing to anyone in the Below, and it doesn’t seem to mean anything to Sira. “Your point?”

“How can she summon thorns? You told me that magic was from the Below. She’s not from here . ”

“Actually, I told you the magic of thorns was in the Below.” I take another sip of my drink.

“Is that why the Autumn Realm is so taken with her? Because she can control thorns? Why are they calling her the Golden Rose?”

“Not just thorns,” I say. “Golden briars and golden roses, too. Alive, magical, and as beautiful as she is.”

I look down at my cup, then back up to my sister. “You poisoned my drink. Truth serum, is it? Always playing with your potions.”

Her only answer is a knowing smile.

I’m not even surprised. Because this is how it is with Birdy and me. How it has to be between siblings who have been raised for a single purpose. Take the Vale by any means necessary.

I shake my head. I want to summon my thorns and escape somewhere until the effect wears off, but then she’d know I’m hiding something big. And maybe there’s a part of me that’s tired of keeping all these secrets to myself. At least, some of them.

“You’re intrigued by her, aren’t you, Cas?” Birdy asks. “Why?”

I tilt my head. Her potion just demands my words be truth, but it doesn’t dictate what truth. “She’s Keldarion’s mate. Of course, I’m intrigued.”

Birdy downs the rest of her untainted drink. “I’ve never understood your obsession with those princes. They’re selfish rulers who hide away in their castle, abuse their magic, and forsake their realms. They look down at all of us Below. The princes wouldn’t reach out a hand to help us if the whole underworld was burning.”

“Come on now, Birdy,” I say. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“No.” She slams her hands on the table. “It’s your turn to share information, Cas. You are never honest with me. You always leave me out. I’m not a child anymore. Can’t you see what I’ve already accomplished in Spring?”

“Oh, I’ve seen.”

“Enough stalling. There’s something else about that girl at Castletree. Tell me.”

Two secrets war inside of me. The serum coursing through my system brings them both to the surface. I need to choose which one will escape my lips. Maybe this is fate, because one of them is a secret I’ve wanted to share with her for so long.

My gaze drops to the Nightingale’s calloused fingers. I can’t help but remember how small her hands were when Sira first commanded that I show her how to wield a blade. Better me than the weapon masters who would whip her for one wrong move.

Not that I could spare her from much of the terrors growing up. It’s hard to protect someone else in the Below when you can barely protect yourself.

For a moment, I think of taking her hand but quickly disregard the idea. “Well then, listen carefully.”

As the story leading up to the secret spills out of me, I watch her every movement. This truth will either heal her or break her. Her expression remains unreadable as I talk. Until I say the last word.

That’s when I see Birdy’s face fracture into madness.

Summoning my best impression of a certain icy fae bastard, I growl, “Oh fuck.”

The Nightingale stands, eyes alight with a sort of unhinged insanity. “How could you have kept this from Mother? I have to tell her.”

I stand and grip Birdy’s arm. “Go ahead, sing like the pretty canary you are. But tell me, sister, what do you think will happen when Sira learns the truth? Do you believe she’ll have any use for you when she could have someone that can summon gold itself? You would be discarded again, just like you were by your real mother.”

Pain flashes in her eyes, rare tears brimming. She can’t deny my words—she’d know they’re true even if this damn serum wasn’t coursing through my veins. Guilt rises within me, but I push it down. This is the only way to keep them both safe.

“Leave Rosalina to me. Forget about her,” I growl. “Return to Spring.”

The Nightingale shakes out of my grip, something feral flashing in her gaze. “I’ll never forget this.”