Page 64 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses

Daughter.

It was the one word I’d always dreamed of hearing from my true parents. And it was the one word Sonoma had waited to give me until the very end. Hearing it from him, spoken with so much love, tugged something loose in my chest. It felt as if I were unraveling—desperate to bind myself to some sort of anchor.

“How do I contact you again?” I blurted.

But he didn’t answer.

Instead, his form shimmered, and a thick plume of smoke rose, curling around him like a living shadow. Sonoma’s body vanished from the bed. A second later, she reappeared in those same shadows where Ire stood, her form ethereal and radiant—and alive. She smiled at me, an open expression full of joy. One I hadn’t seen her wear in a very long time. Ire slid his arm around her waist, and they both stepped backward into the shadows.

“Wait!” I cried, lurching forward.

But it was too late. With one final swirl of smoke, they were gone.

And I was truly and utterly alone.

Chapter Twenty

Aurelia

Isat in Sonoma’s room until my tears dried. At some point, I’d climbed into her bed and inhaled the scent of her until my senses were dull with the effort. There was no body to bury. No grave to mark. Only emptiness. I’d once thought loneliness couldn’t get worse than the kind the curse had brought me, but the clanging emptiness surrounding me now was more painful than anything I could’ve imagined.

Finally, my tears were gone, and the numbness that came after slid slowly into resolve. I had to leave. And soon. The Furiosities would handle the wards but not until I was gone. As long as those assholes Eld and Age didn’t fuck it up on purpose.

My uncles seemed the type to do that.

But I had a feeling my father wouldn’t let them.

I felt a strange sort of comfort in suddenly having family—even if they were the rulers of Hel.

Then again, meeting my father had challenged everything I thought I knew about the Underworld. I’d been raised to believe Hel was evil. Dark and deadly and devoted to suffering.And while their power could be used for darkness—Heliconia was an example of that—it wasn’t all bad.

It couldn’t be. Not with the amount of love that existed between Sonoma and Ire—my mother and father. Anyone could see that what they felt for one another was pure and good.

I wasn’t sure where that left me on the spectrum of evil, but by the time I sat up and dusted myself off, I almost didn’t care. As long as the power I’d been gifted was enough to save my people.

The blankets rustled as I slipped to the edge of the bed. Shoving them aside, I started to rise then stopped at the sound of something crinkling. I looked down to find a slip of paper sticking out from beneath the pillow.

Yanking it free, I read the words scrawled in Sonoma’s handwriting with widening eyes.

Aurelia,

The bargain I made kept you safe, but it also kept you in the dark about what you’re capable of. For that, I’m sorry. Heliconia is strong, but you are stronger. The Fates’ blessings are the key. Unlock those and you’ll have what you need to stop her. Your uncles will seal the wards as soon as you leave. Let Callan protect you while you search. And stop fighting your furyfire. Darkness doesn’t always equal evil. Light isn’t always good. We love you.

Mom

I re-read it three times, committing each word to memory. Then, I took Sonoma’s sword and left the rest behind.

I went to my bedroom first. It took me a scant few minutes to pack, but I forced myself to bathe first and put on fresh clothes. I dressed in the clothing of an Aine warrior. Armor made of scaled rubidium, lightweight and breathable. A cloak embroidered with a sun wrapped in roses, the crest ofSevanwinds. And both Sonoma’s sword and my own strapped across my back. I braided my hair to one side, covering my tattoo.

The only two gowns I owned that weren’t falling apart from disuse went into my suitcase along with a pendant Lesha had given me for my birthday three years ago.

Far too quickly, it was done.

My entire life—all my belongings—bagged and ready.

I paused at the window, staring out over the city of Rosewood one last time. The tiled rooftops, fenced yards, and wide, empty streets were like an old friend. But the overgrown gardens covered in my mother’s favorite rosebushes, all of them gnarled and overgrown with thorns, shattered the sense of home. The vibrant red roses had once been a true symbol of eternal summer. Now, black petals—rotted and scented with decay—were all that grew here.

This was Heliconia’s mark—and I’d be glad to leave it behind.

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