Page 40 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

39

Rosalina

C arefully, I unroll the paper, taking caution not to smear the chalk rubbing. “Well, what do you make of it?”

Farron leans over my shoulder, golden glasses sliding down his nose. “It’s old, certainly. This art style is ancient. Remember the stained glass in the monastery? You can see how they took inspiration from it.”

I stare down at the paper, a rubbing my father sent in one of his latest letters. His travel companions, Farron’s little brothers, use their magic to make his letters fly through the air, finding me wherever I am. Each letter contains updates on his quest to find my long-lost mother. A mother we now know is fae.

There are so many questions. How did she disguise herself as a human? Why didn’t she tell him? Why did she leave a year after she had me?

This rubbing depicts a woman with hands spread high above her head as birds fly away. Papa’s note reads: It’s a Pacific Wren. I know it. Your mother loved those birds. She always pointed them out. It means something, Rosie. I know it does.

Farron hovers a hand over the picture. “The letter said he took this rubbing from ruins in northern Autumn. Do me a favor and grab that map we were looking at the other day.”

Nodding, I make my way across the Spring archives. Though they don’t hold quite the cozy charm of our library in the Autumn Wing of Castletree, they house many treasures. Books, records, and texts are all organized on metal shelves. High stone pillars lead up into the cavernous mountain side, and arched windows let in bright streams of light.

When we first entered, Farron had sniffed something along the lines of, “Books in a cave? The humidity!” But really, everything has been quite dry. Maybe it’s an enchantment.

Standing on tiptoes, I grab an old scroll we’d taken down a few days ago following another lead from my father. He’d sent: Can’t get the word ‘Aerantheis’ out of my head. Mean anything to you?

Turns out Aerantheis was an ancient city of Summer. Farron explained there’s a legend that it sunk to the bottom of the sea, but the Queen blessed the fae who lived there with tails so they could live in the ocean. Quite the origin for mermaids. Though the mystery still stands on how my father knew that name. Maybe Billy or Dom mentioned it to him.

Did you grab the ancient map? Not the new one, Farron says in my mind.

I have it, I send back. We’ve been getting good at chatting in each other’s minds. It’s easy to do this close, but we’ve also managed from opposite sides of Keep Hammergarden. Unfortunately, we haven’t quite figured out how to communicate when we’re in separate realms, but I’m sure that will come. When Farron and I work together, I feel like we can do anything.

I make it back to our long stone table, and his gaze slides down my body like a touch. I can’t help that the Spring dresses are so beautiful. Today, I’m dressed in an off-the-shoulder blouse with a billowing skirt, the hem embroidered with tiny flowers. My cheeks heat. Researching in a library reminds me of when we first met. He’s so gorgeous like this: vest, glasses, and floppy hair.

Farron straightens and clears his throat. “Ah yes, that’s the one.”

“I know it is,” I say, smirking.

We unroll the map, and he tracks his finger to the northern Autumn realmlands. “This must be where your father was. The ruin used to be a city called Calandorin.” Farron gets that determined look, then he taps the side of his nose. “You know, there was a legend about that place. I wonder if these stony archives will have it.”

He straightens and darts off into the stacks. While I wait, I take a seat next to another set of books. These texts are on mate bonds. One of the more fascinating is a collection of accounts trying to describe what it feels like to have a bond.

Mind speaking, a connection of the spirit, a sweeping fire that consumes body and soul. Like the other night. My mating frenzy. I’d explained to Farron in great detail how I felt like I was there with Kel, the mark on my neck … But I’d left out the other part. The visitor in my room.

Caspian had not been himself in that moment, and neither had I.

“Unfortunately, no luck. Not that I’m surprised. This is more of a tomb than a lib—” Farron rounds the corner. “Is everything all right?”

I breathe out a long sigh and tuck my hair behind my neck. “I’m fine. That’s too bad there’s nothing here about— What did you say the place was called?”

“Calandorin.”

Calandorin. The name sparks something at the back of my mind. Quickly, I scramble in my pack. My fingers clutch a smooth leather spine. “I’ve been meaning to show you this. I think I saw mention of that city in here.”

Farron hovers over me. “What is it?”

I thump the book on the table. Farron’s eyes widen. He runs a long finger over the letters. “This book is ancient. There’s a strange aura to it. Wherever did you find it?”

“I kind of stole it,” I admit. “From Caspian. He took it from your Scriptorium. Technically, it belongs to you.”

“I don’t think this kind of book belongs to anyone,” Farron murmurs.

I prepare myself for a deluge of questions, but my mate stares entranced, his touch tentative and curious over the leather binding.

“Let me show you,” I say and slowly open the book, flipping through the delicate pages until I find the image I was thinking of, a mountain etched in inky lines, spewing black smoke.

“Calandorin’s original location lay at the base of a volcano,” Farron says, reading the text. “One day it erupted without warning, and only the Queen was able to make it there in time. But she couldn’t find a way to get all the fae off the mountain before the lava reached them.”

My eyes drift back to the rubbing. “So, she changed them…”

“The Queen used her magic to transform them all to birds so they could safely fly down the mountain.”

“And that’s how birds were created. Like the mermaids?”

Farron flips the pages. “No, she changed them back. They built a new city and must have paid homage to her with the plaque your father found.”

“The magic of change,” I whisper. “Man to animal. Is there any other fae with that power?”

Farron shakes his head, auburn hair falling across his brow. “There are some fae who transform themselves, such as from fae to unicorn. Or mermaids can have legs for a time. But there’s no magic of transformation on others, such as Queen Aurelia had.”

“No,” I say, an idea hitting me like a stroke of lightning. “The Enchantress who cursed you … changed you from fae to beast.” My chest heaves with breath. “Could she be the Queen returned?”

Farron gets a faraway look. “The thought has crossed my mind before. And she would have just cause, for we four failed her realms. Sometimes people do horrible things to protect something they love.”

“But if the Enchantress was the Queen, why would she leave after?” I continue. “Castletree is sick. Why wouldn’t she help it or any of the realms? In all the stories about her, she’s always doing good.”

“Indeed. And how does this legend aid your father’s search?”

“I don’t know,” I say, turning back to Papa’s letter. “It’s a good story, but what does it have to do with my mother? Why does Papa think the type of bird is important?”

“Perhaps she was one of the citizens who was transformed into a bird?” Farron suggests.

“Maybe.” I stare at the rubbing of the Queen. There’s a tiny spiral around her throat. Is it a rose?

My hand unconsciously drifts to my necklace. Is it possible my mother had some connection to the ancient Queen? Maybe she didn’t find this necklace.

Maybe it was a gift.

“I’ll start a reply to your father, detailing what information we’ve learned.” Farron sits down at the table and pulls out a quill and ink. “Keep that book safe, Rosalina. I’m sure there’s more to be gleaned from it. But we should get back to our other research. Figure out more about this mating frenzy of yours.”

I tuck the book back into my bag. The thought of the wilde courtship turns my thoughts back to purple eyes and a leering smile. I smooth out invisible wrinkles in my skirt. “Farron, I need to tell you something. Something I’ve kept hidden because I’m ashamed and scared.”

Farron jumps up so fast, his quill falls and drops blotches of ink on the paper. He wraps his arms around me, and I realize I’m shaking. “It’s okay, Rosie. You can tell me anything, you know that.” He sits back in his chair, pulling me on to his lap.

“It’s about Caspian.”

Farron stiffens beneath me. “Go on.”

I touch the two bands of thorns around my wrists. “I didn’t only see Kel the night my mating frenzy took over. When I woke up, Caspian was in my room.”

Farron inhales sharply but says nothing more.

“He looked possessed, Fare, like his body wasn’t his own. He wasn’t there long, but … but it was like he was drawn to me.”

“The Prince of Thorns likes his games,” Farron says, but his voice holds little conviction.

My fingers dig into his vest. “Farron, are you able to feel him like you do Kel?”

Farron touches his neck. “If I feel anything for the Prince of Thorns, it’s only remnants of our bargain. It’s deep magic, Rosie. It clouds the soul.”

Maybe so, but there’s something more going on. Something I’ve been trying to ignore for months. The yearning for Caspian, the jealousy. And when I was searching for Farron, it was him I found instead. I jump off Farron’s lap, voice growing frantic. “He can speak in my mind. I feel a pull to him. Farron, what if the Prince of Thorns is also my mate?”

Farron’s golden eyes widen, then he slumps forward in his chair, hands in his hair. The Prince of Thorns attacked his home, and before that, Caspian betrayed Keldarion and the entire Enchanted Vale.

I clutch at my heart. “What else could it be?”

Farron stands, then walks on shaky legs towards me. “There is so much magic in this world we don’t yet know about. It could be any one of his tricks. And if it is true, we’ll figure it out together.”

He cups my face and I lean into his touch. “You don’t hate me?”

“Of course not, Rosalina. There’s nothing you could ever do to make me hate you. Besides, if the stars have matched your light with that vile darkness, you don’t have to accept the bond.”

“That’s true,” I whisper.

“We need more information. And in the meantime, be wary of what you feel. Ask yourself if it’s truly the same as with Kel and I.”

“Why don’t you hold on to Caspian’s book for a while?” I ask. “It does technically belong to you, after all. Maybe you’ll find some clue in it I missed.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a read.” Gently, he brushes the hair from my brow. My heart melts at his tenderness. This softness, this forgiveness … I’ve never felt as open with anyone as I do with him. With Farron, my secrets will always be safe. I look down at the thorns winding around my wrist. My bargain. “Farron, there’s something else.”

“Well, I never!” A voice smooth as honey caresses down the hall, followed by the wheel of carts.

I pull away from Farron, wiping my eyes. “That would be Marigold.”

“Never too late for afternoon coffee,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Please do not fret about Caspian. Don’t think you can’t tell me what’s going on in that glorious mind of yours. If you need to follow your feelings, I will stand by you. But I promise, Rosie. I will find the answers to your questions.”

Relief floods through me from his response. From his warmth and understanding, though I know inside, the idea must be truly haunting. Nodding, I turn as Marigold enters the room, rolling a tray cluttered with ceramic carafe, elegant cups, and a tower of cookies. Behind her, in a flurry, is Eldy.

“Lady Marigold, I’ve never been bombarded with such attitude.” The majordomo flaps his arms at his side.

“What’s the problem?” I ask.

Marigold slams the carafe down with such vigor, little droplets fly out. Quickly, I grab the rubbing as Farron rolls up the map.

“The problem is Eldor has dared ask to escort me to Prince Ezryn’s welcome home jubilee tonight!”

Farron raises a brow and tries to reach for a cookie before Marigold swats his hand with a rolled napkin. “A plate first, Autumn Prince!”

“I thought you’d like to attend the jubilee, Marigold,” Farron says and gives Marigold a knowing look. “It’s a full moon tonight, after all.”

“Aye, I do, but not with someone that has more butter than biscuits for brains.”

“The nerve!” Eldy says. “In my day, an invitation of such caliber would be met with at least appreciation if not acceptance.”

“Appreciation,” Marigold scoffs, loading Farron’s plate with a teetering pile of cookies. “He expects appreciation from me ? Me, who’s been serving in naught but Castletree for twenty-five years?”

“A place of highest esteem.” Eldy scrunches up his face. His features do look rather birdlike: the large nose, pointed chin, and gray hair pulled back like slicked tail feathers.

But he doesn’t know about the curse, doesn’t know that if he hadn’t stood Marigold up, she wouldn’t turn into a raccoon each night.

“A lady like Marigold cannot simply be asked to events such as this,” I begin. “You have to entice her to go with you.”

Marigold gives a huff of approval and finally hands over the plate of cookies.

“How would I do that?” Eldy asks.

I place a hand on his shoulder and laugh. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Eldy bobs his head. It’s like I can feel his magic through the connection of my hand on his shoulder. Really, deep down … He could be very birdlike.

Feeling a little strange, I remove my hand and pluck a cookie off Farron’s plate. The powdered sugar smells divine. Before I take a bite, I notice it’s divided into three different sections: one pink, one brown, and one yellow.

Marigold notices me examining it. “The pink represents the stone which shelters us, the brown represents the earth from which we grow, and the yellow represents the sun that gives us life.”

“All things that make the Spring Realm what we are,” Eldy finishes. Carefully, he picks one up and looks at it. “It’s been a long-time since I’ve had one of your famous polvorones, Marigold.”

She crosses her arms, but her voice is soft. “Been a long time since I’ve made them. They never tasted right when I made them in Castletree.”

Eldy takes a bite, crumbs dotting his beard. “I would have eaten them gladly.”

Farron and I exchange a look, and I sense an opportunity. I lean into Eldy, pretending to whisper, “Did you even tell Marigold about the present you got her for the occasion?”

The majordomo gives a raised brow, which I return with a wink. Ezryn had already shown me some of the beautiful jewels they craft here. I’m sure I could procure a trinket or two that Eldy could offer Marigold.

Eldy clears his throat and chuffs, “Well, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

Marigold purses her lips, and I can see her resolve weakening. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not saving all my dances for you.”

“Very well. I’m glad you see reason.” Eldy gives a loopy smile, before his face creases. “Wait, who else would you dance with?”

The two of them continue the argument as they leave the archives.

I turn back to Farron, wipe crumbs off his cheek, and give him a quick kiss. “Come on, Autumn Prince. We’ve got a party to go to.”

But his hands tighten on my waist, and the kiss deepens until my whole body melts beneath his touch. “First, Princess of Autumn, it would be a shame to waste this perfectly cleared table,” Farron whispers against my neck, before throwing me on it.