Page 93 of Forged By Malice (Beasts of the Briar #3)

92

Rosalina

A dull ache pounds in my head, and my mouth feels dry and cottony. I open my eyes and try to orient myself. Rainbow light filters in through stained glass in a rounded room. The High Tower of Castletree?

No. There aren’t enough briars here, only a few scattered along the floor. Oily, iridescent ones. The Nightingale’s thorns.

Slowly, my vision clears. I’m in the monastery’s highest tower, the one Kairyn brought me to.

“Oh, so you finally decided to join us?” a sing-song voice chirps. “I thought you were out for good.”

“Where are the princes?” I growl. I’m not restrained, just lying on a small wooden bench.

The Nightingale doesn’t answer, busily rearranging some glass jars, chalices, and vases of flowers on a windowsill. She hums to herself, the sound muffled beneath her mask.

This is where they housed the Queen’s weapons, but there’s only one left: the rose gold bow.

In front of the elevator are two soldiers. The Queen’s Guard, I heard them called last time I was here. Their faces are stoic, spears behind their backs.

And beside them is one of Kairyn’s Penta Conclave. His turquoise armor gleams, and he wrings his hands on the hilt of a trident. A chain with a single seashell dangles from his neck.

“That belongs to Dayton, you fucking bastard!” I snarl, surging up. “What did you do to him?”

The Nightingale turns, sighing. With the flick of her wrist, briars ensnare me. I try again to take control of them. But it doesn’t feel like before when she was blocking me.

No, I feel nothing at all.

I try my fire next, but there’s not even a tiny whisper of magic.

It’s like I’m human again.

“We have all the weapons, and almost all the Queen’s tokens.” The Nightingale smirks. “We’re closer to our goal than ever.”

Her eyes drift to the center of the room, where the bow sits.

You’re not wielding all the weapons. The roses on the bow are so like the one on my necklace. But Caspian didn’t hand over my moonstone rose with the rest of them. Is it a token, too?

It doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here. I try to reach for my mate bonds, screaming out to them. Kel! Ezryn! Farron! But even my thoughts feel trapped inside.

The Nightingale gives another long laugh. She waves a near-empty glass chalice, a few drops of black liquid swishing within. “This marked a significant breakthrough for me, one of several I’ve experienced lately. Once this circulates in your bloodstream, it will eliminate all traces of magic, thorns, and mate bonds. Now, you’re no better than an ordinary human.”

No wonder she hadn’t felt the need to chain me. “Where are the princes?”

“Is that all you’re worried about?” She makes a mock pouting face. “Can’t even be bothered to praise my wonderful accomplishments.” She gestures to the windowsill with a flourish, displaying all her vials, glasses, and vases of flower buds.

“I don’t care—” I begin, then stop. If she wants to tell me how she sapped my magic, then I’m all ears. A purple flower bud catches my eye. “You’re the one who poisoned Ezryn and me by the willow tree.”

She lightly strokes the purple flower. “I wish it were my own creation, but no. That little botanical beauty is a mix of Kairyn’s magic and Quellos’s twisted experiments. A flower with pollen capable of producing hallucinations crafted from your worst nightmares. You must agree, it was highly effective.”

The memory of Ezryn’s screams sends a shiver down my spine. Fucking Perth Quellos, working for the Below. He finally found a place to appreciate his despicable mind. I need to keep her talking. “Did Quellos figure out how to steal my magic, too?”

“Don’t give that bald weakling all the credit. Sure, his little greenhouse of horrors may cultivate these beauties, but I brewed the potion.” She picks up a black flower and brings it to her nose, covered by her mask. “Perfectly safe as is, but when I found just the right chemistry … Your little spark of magic is nothing more than ash.”

“You’re using the beauty of Spring against its own people,” I say.

“Spring was rotting anyway,” she snarls back. She picks up the vase, tracing her hand over the bouquet of budding flowers. “Mother never appreciates my potions. Says I’m wasting my time. But look what Kairyn, Quellos, and I have done. Purple flowers for nightmares, black for magic suppression. But these beautiful red ones are the star of the show.”

I blink my eyes. I’ve seen those flowers—they’re everywhere around Florendel. They were even in my room. “What do they do?”

The Nightingale beams down at the red bud. “Once it blooms, it expels a pollen that turns one’s mind into an empty space and links it to a host of my choosing.”

No wonder water had been the cure both for my nightmares at Sylvanita Lake and when I was up the mountain. I needed to clear my nose of the poisoned pollen. I look around the room, searching for a carafe or jug. Maybe water could cure my magic suppression…

But no. She’d said the black flower had to be brewed in a potion and ingested. I’ll need an antidote. And more information. “Who is the host?”

The Nightingale blinks at me, pride shining in her eyes. “This special bloom will turn one into a symbiont of High Prince Kairyn.”

I gasp. He was the one who told the acolyte to stick them in my room… “Kairyn’s been trying to kill me all along.”

“Well, he doesn’t have the balls to kill his brother,” she says sharply. “But unhelming him and cutting up his ears was pretty good, wasn’t it? And since you’re still alive, I get to have you all to myself.”

No, no, this isn’t good. There has to be a way to stop all this. Has to be something that can get me out of here. “That’s it, then? You didn’t grow a flower with nice magic at all?” I say in as snarky a tone as I can manage. “What about the yellow flower?”

The Nightingale plucks it from the bouquet and laughs. “Oh, this is as far from nice as you can get. It’s not used for a quick puff of pollen or in a potion. You grind the petals for this one, you see. Put it in food or tea. Can’t even taste it. And slowly, bit by bit, your mind weakens. Your muscles, too. Turns you feeble. You think you’re getting sick, but truly you’re becoming … better.” A crazed gleam flashes in your eye. “It can turn a simple rat into a monstrous beast of vine and teeth. Or a fae into a … Well, we’re not sure yet. But we’ll see soon enough.”

“You’re the monster,” I spit.

“So Mother likes to tell me.”

Fear sends my whole body shaking. “Where are the princes?”

She sets down the vase. “Alive, if that’s what you’re so concerned about. I’ve left Ezryn to wander and die in whatever shameful way he sees fit, an idiotic requirement of his brother.”

“Kairyn is a fucking traitor!” I spit.

She whirls to me, glaring. The briars tighten, thorns pricking into my flesh. “And he’s the only reason that mate of yours is still alive. You should thank him. If it were up to me, the former High Prince of Spring would be dead.”

I match her glare, refusing to show my pain. She sighs and releases the hold slightly. “The High Princes of Summer and Winter are being held in Keep Hammergarden. Or are you actually asking about my brother? Wouldn’t that be interesting if you were? In which case, yes, he’s alive. Mostly.”

Panic rears through me and my mind screams, Caspian! Caspian? But there’s nothing. “Where is he?”

“He was a very bad boy,” she purrs. “Letting all those princes and you escape, lying to Mother.”

“He saved your stupid life, and he took the blame for that rat monster you set free.”

“Then he’s forgotten every lesson he taught me about surviving in the Below,” she says. “It’s your fault. You’re making my brother soft.”

“Like I have any influence over the Prince of Thorns.”

“You really have no idea, do you?” Her gaze narrows to slits resembling a cat’s. She doesn’t look much like Caspian, but her mannerisms, the tilt of her head, even the cadence of her speech are eerily similar. “Well, he’s being punished. Don’t worry. Painful as it is, he’s used to it.”

Horrors pass through my mind at what Sira could be inflicting on him in the Below. But she wouldn’t kill him, would she? Not her own son.

“Mother is very interested in you, Lady of Castletree. My brother made me promise to keep all your secrets from Mother, but who knows? Maybe I’ll tell her. He left me without my Dreadknights after all. Though I am curious—do you know why you can create the thorns?”

I stare at her. The way she worded it, like she knows, and I don’t understand at all. Caspian knows, too. His words from his birthday party when I questioned him on the shared power come back to me: ‘ Gift or legacy, the magic is the same, wouldn’t you agree?’ He’d flashed a golden bracelet inlaid with roses. “How can you control the briars?”

She tilts her head. “The same reason as you.”

Her thorns fall away, and I rub at my arms, scratched up and down. “What do you want with me?”

“Kairyn said you wore a moonstone rose necklace, but all Cas retrieved from you was this.” From beneath her armor, she pulls out a golden leaf necklace, the one I was gifted from Farron’s father.

“That belongs to me,” I snarl.

She shakes her head, tucking it away. “It is pretty, even if it’s not magical. The only thing I care about is the location of the moonstone. The one that belonged to your mother.”

They’ll just try to take it from you again, Caspian had told me. He was right. Though I’m certainly not going to tell her that. Lie. I have to lie to her.

She storms closer. “You had it the night of the jubilee. Where is it now?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have lost it if you hadn’t set a giant rat on me!” I hiss, the anger coming easily.

She straightens. “Lost it? Hmm, well, there are ways to find magical artifacts. Or it could just be a piece of junk. You’ll never know though.”

“I am mate to the High Prince of Autumn and Winter. Holding me here will—”

“Without the necklace, you’re of no further use to me,” she interrupts. “But Mother is curious about you, especially after your thorny display in the Below. And because Caspian tried so hard to hide it from her. Do you know why he’s so interested in you ?”

“I don’t know,” I lie.

“No matter.” The Nightingale turns back to her potions. “Mother wants me to deliver you to her in the Below.”

My gaze shifts out the window over the top of Mount Lumidor to Florendel. The Nightingale thinks I’m useless without my magic. But she doesn’t know I made it to the Enchanted Vale as a human. I fought goblins and protected the princes and ran through a battlefield as a human. It’s something I’m quite well-versed at.

And this human will escape and find her princes.

“If I’m wanted in the Below, why take me here?”

She whirls. “Because I’m preparing myself to tell Mother you perished from your wounds before I could deliver you.”

“But I’m not hurt.”

Then, the Turquoise Knight stabs me with his trident.