Page 46 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses

That had happened a lot in the beginning, giving a whole new meaning to the idea of “heavy sleepers.” At least, none of them snored. A castle full of snorers would’ve driven me crazier than the silence already had.

“The wind’s picked up,” I commented as I worked. “Winter’s coming faster than last year. This one might be colder, too. There’s something in the air.”

I didn’t voice my fears: that Sonoma’s death was being heralded on the wind. That it was all happening too fast. And that the Fates, the goddesses who’d created the Aine in the first place, had abandoned her.

Abandoned us all.

Lesha once told me there was a chance the sleeping could hear us. Ever since then, I was careful not to burden them with things they were helpless to do anything about. It was my responsibility to save them. Even if remaining here to guard their sleeping forms meant never fulfilling the prophecy I’d been destined for.

Maybe I was doomed to fail them all.

Maybe Heliconia’s greatest victory would be forcing me to watch them all die slowly and realize there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Sleep well,” I said as I finished up.

Then I made my way to Lilah’s room.

“Hey, you,” I said, dropping a kiss on my sister’s forehead.

The lump in my throat had lessened over the years, but it was still hard to look at her and know she wasn’t going to sit up or answer me.

“I have fresh sheets for you,” I told her. “The lavender ones you like best.”

Lilah’s honey-colored hair was still braided from Lesha’s last visit with her, and a blue ribbon had been woven in; a perfect match for her eyes—if they ever opened.

I worked on changing her sheets, careful not to look too hard at the ribbon or think too much about what would happen when Sonoma’s magic finally failed.

When I was done, I lingered, talking about my trip to the Broadlands. I left out the parts about the Obsidian I’d killed or my run-in with Rydian and focused instead on the sights of the countryside. The Broadlands had proven beautiful, despite the dangers. Lilah would’ve loved the adventure of it all.

“And before you ask,” I said playfully, “there were no handsome princes your age along my way.” I sighed, remembering Lilah’s daydreaming. She’d dreamt of a fancy party of her own, complete with ball gowns and dancing. I refused to believe she’d never get her wish. “I’ll ask Lesha to bring a new ribbon the next time she does your hair,” I added as I tucked the blankets in tight. “She’s supposed to be back soon.”

The lie tightened my throat, and I paused, listening to the distant roll of thunder. Through the window, the fading daylight had already turned to shadows cast by swiftly approaching storm clouds.

Already, the temperature in the room had dropped, and a draft slipped through the castle.

It would be cold tonight.

At Lilah’s door, I paused and aimed my magic at the logs stacked inside the hearth. Black flames shot from my hands. The logs caught in a bright reddish-orange glow, the heat slowly warming the room.

I looked back at Lilah, double-checking the blankets I’d tucked beneath her chin. She didn’t need them, nor the fire. The curse kept them from succumbing to the elements; we’d learned that the third year when winter came to the kingdom.

No, the fire, the blankets…those were for my own comfort.

Slipping out, I moved on to the other rooms. Twenty-two bedrooms in all. Then there were the parlors, drawing rooms, meeting rooms, throne room, and finally, the ballroom. It was a monstrous undertaking—caring for the comatose. Lesha had cast a spell that first year preventing sheets from becoming dusty or in need of washing. But I couldn’t just ignore them entirely. So, I walked the rows of cots and beds, squeezing hands and murmuring comforting words to the sleeping Summer fae.

When the sun began to set, I went in search of Sonoma. In the study, reference books were piled high on the worktablebelow the window, strewn haphazardly and lying open to whatever page had caught her attention. But she wasn’t there. I glimpsed a drawing of a Vorinthian rune before turning for the door.

Retracing my steps through the castle halls, I aimed for her workshop instead. In the early years, she’d disappeared frequently. Sonoma was a solitary creature who valued privacy and hated crowds. All of the Aine were that way. What she and Lesha and the others did for me, staying here to protect Sevanwinds, wasn’t something I took lightly.

If she needed space, I gave it.

Usually.

Today, however, felt different.

I searched everywhere. The kitchen, the dining hall, the Great Room. I even retraced my steps and checked the royal bedchambers—sometimes she looked in on the king and queen when she thought I wouldn’t notice—but they were all empty.

I shoved panic aside and headed for the stables, which housed chickens Lesha had managed to bring through the wards a few years ago.

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