Page 43 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

42

Ezryn

A t moments like these, I wonder how I dared stay away from my realm for so long.

The Meadowmere Forest outside of Florendel has been drenched in all the splendor of Spring, decorated with magic and the beauty of our craftsmanship. If this weren’t a jubilee in my honor, perhaps I could enjoy it.

The air is filled with the sweet scent of wildflowers, carried by a gentle breeze that rustles through the ancient trees. In this magical hour of twilight, the sunlight shimmers purple through the dense canopy, creating dappled patterns on the forest floor. More than ever, I am thankful for the full moon tonight so I can savor this moment without transforming into my beast.

Savor it, because she’s on my arm. She who glows more beautifully than anything from the cosmos.

“Wow,” Rosalina gasps, eyes darting around to take in the celebration. I find myself smiling at how unabashedly she feels everything; there’s no thought to hide her joy or mask her pain. I wonder what it would be like to feel everything so freely.

Behind me, Dayton is speaking in a low voice to Farron. I offer the youngest of us princes a smile, then realize he can’t see it. Yet, Farron gives me a smile back. It is his right to enter the party with his mate on his arm, but he held no objection when Rosalina grabbed my elbow. I know she’ll go back to him—back to where she belongs—soon enough. But for this moment, I revel in the feel of her beside me.

The sound of laughter and mirth grows louder as we draw into the heart of the gathering. The jubilee is in full swing, and the woods have been transformed into a playground of wonder.

“What are those?” Rosalina points upward. Giant leaf pods move gently through the trees and down to the forest floor. One lands near us, and laughing partygoers step out. In a similar fashion, massive flowers, the size of a small room, keep their petals closed as they drift from one end of the party to another, before blooming and letting guests in or out. Each one is a tiny sanctuary of its own, providing quiet solace from the event or transporting guests around the clearing.

One flower pod, petals unfurled, carries the harmonious melodies of the orchestra. Their music fills the air, and Rosalina perks up, swaying to the rhythm.

Seven realms, has she ever looked so beautiful as when she is donning a dress of Spring? I knew Marigold would never miss the opportunity to show Rosalina the wondrous fashions of our home, but she has truly outdone herself.

Rosalina shines in vibrant colors and floral motifs. The sleeves, made of brilliant white lace, drape gracefully over her shoulders. Scarlet red, turquoise blue, and emerald green flowers are intricately embroidered over the bodice, seeming to come to life every time she sways. The pleated skirt hugs her hips. Each tier is adorned with embroidered blossoms in every color from the indigos of twilight to the golden hues of dawn.

She spins in a circle; her hair flows around her in soft waves, hundreds of tiny petals woven throughout. When she catches me looking at her, her eyes sparkle with a mischievous glimmer.

I want to kiss that smirk off her face.

She skips over to me and takes my hand. “Your home is magnificent, Ez.”

“I can take no credit for this. Kairyn is the one who organized the jubilee.” I wave away a cluster of fireflies that dance near my face.

Fae nod to me as we walk through the party, though some have already partaken in too much drink, for their eyes are glazed, movements slumbrous.

Rosalina waves to everyone.

When a leaf pod dips near us and opens to uncover a table laden with food, she squeals and insists we try one of everything. When across the party, a flower blossoms to reveal a harpist, she grabs my hand and yanks me through the whole event to stand before them. Tears prick her eyes at the music. And when we catch sight of Dayton and Farron swaying together under the rising moon, she stares at them wistfully.

“You should go dance,” I tell her. “I’ve taken you away from Farron for far too long.”

The glitter dusting her cheekbones and eyelids sparkles. “Why don’t you come dance with us?”

“I should probably find my brother.”

She chews on her lip, then grabs hold of my elbow. “One more lap through the party, then I’ll let you go. Promise.”

I couldn’t say no to her if my life depended on it.

We drift under the darting lights—both enchanted and cast by fireflies—and walk along the edge of the clearing. I feel her eyes on me. “Something on my helmet?”

“I like this color on you.” She strokes a hand down the side of my helm. I’m wearing a suit of armor that has long sat dormant here in Spring, an elegant set of starlight silver that is more ceremonial than battleworthy. “You look like Sir Lancelot.”

“Another friend of yours?”

She barks a laugh. “No, no. He’s a character in a great legend. There have been thousands of stories written about him and Queen Guinevere.”

Rosalina and her books. Since her time at Castletree, I’ve heard about all her favorite characters. “Tell me of this Sir Lancelot and his Queen.”

Rosalina leans against the trunk of a tree. “Lancelot was renowned as one of the bravest and most gallant knights who ever served great King Arthur. Yet, he had a passionate streak, a fiery temper that he had to repress on behalf of his honor.”

“Hmm, sounds like an interesting fellow.” I brace a hand beside her head. “And who was this Queen Guinevere?”

“She was a beautiful maiden. So beautiful that Lancelot fell madly in love with her upon first sight. And she loved him back.” Rose blinks her huge brown eyes at me. “Their love was such that they forsook all honor, all commitments, to be with one another.”

“Why could they just not love each other?” I breathe.

“Because,” Rosalina whispers, “she belonged to his best friend. And he had a duty to his people, to the throne.”

“Oh.” Something shifts in my chest, like coals smoldering, fighting for life against the ash. “What happened to them?”

Rosalina’s eyes drift down, staring into nothing. “Lancelot is consumed by guilt and remorse and disappears from Guinevere’s life in a self-imposed exile.”

“What of the Queen?”

“She is nearly burned at the stake,” Rosalina whispers, “for choosing to love a man who could never belong to her.”

The music and chatter of the party fill the air, but it feels like there’s nothing but emptiness around me. “Such is the fate for foolish dreamers.”

“It’s just a story,” Rosalina says, and I hear the pitch in her voice, an attempt at merriness.

I force myself to emulate her tone. “Look, there’s Dayton. You should give him a dance.”

“Right.” She nods and starts to head out before turning back to me. “There are thousands of versions of that story, Ez. Maybe one day I’ll write my own. One where Lancelot and Guinevere end up together.”

“I will be the first to read it.”

She smiles, then drifts away from me, petals in a breeze.

I sigh and collapse my weight against the trunk. I need a moment to collect my thoughts—

“You’ve hardly left her side all night and here I was, thinking my big brother would seek me out.” Kairyn disengages from the shadows as if he is merely an extension of them.

“I hate parties,” I growl.

“I know.”

We look at each other in silence; the whole thing is so ridiculous, I nearly laugh.

“A sword at a party?” Kairyn muses, looking at Windscythe on my back.

“Trust me. I’ve been to enough parties now to know it’s always best to be prepared.”

Kairyn’s gaze leaves mine and searches the clearing before landing on Rosalina. “You care for that fae.”

“She is mate to the High Prince of Autumn,” I say quickly. “I swore to Farron I would protect her with my life.”

“No.” Kairyn seems wrong in this place, his armor absorbing the light instead of reflecting it. “It’s more than that. She is … precious to you.”

“It matters not.”

“Tell me,” Kairyn says, “do you think she will still smile so sweetly at you when she learns the truth?”

Ice floods my veins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But how could you tell her, when you’ve never admitted it to me?”

A growl rumbles in my throat, and I grab his arm firmly. “We will not speak of this here. And I will not speak of this with you .”

Kairyn shakes his head. “Typical. You are more than willing to look into the future of Spring with me, but will never look to the past. Tell me, did you even deigned to pay your respects to Mother yet?”

When I don’t answer, my brother melds back into the dark edges of the party. I am left dancing with the fireflies.