Page 119 of Crowned By Roses

My finger loosens⁠—

Something slams into me with such force, I’m sent spiraling, the arrow falling uselessly to the ground. The wind is knocked out of me. My wings beat, trying to steady myself, but I’m tumbling through the air.

I’m whipped upward. There’s the screech of metal as something sharp digs into my armor. I blink, trying to orient myself. I’m caught. A gargoyle. It’s got me in its claws, stony hands and feet gripping all four of my limbs. My wings flap crazily, but I can’t break away.

I call on my briars but can’t figure out which way is up or down. There’s the flash of gold as one of my vines catches. With a roar, I summon it forth. The gargoyle howls as a golden thorn pierces through its chest. Spittle and blood shower me. Its yellow eyes twitch, and its claws clamber down the front of my armor. I shake free my arms and shove it⁠—

But with its dying gasp, it lunges, clutching my back with its claws and ripping.

Nauseating pain roils through me. I scream. It’s as if I’ve been lashed with a fiery whip. My back, my back, my back…

No, not my back.

My wings.

The gargoyle slides off me and falls. Then I am spinning. My stomach drops, limbs flailing. But I can’t feel my wings besides the pain.

A briar. I need a briar to catch me⁠—

But the ground gets there first. I hit the earth so hard, my every bone quakes, even through the armor. My head swims, and my vision is black spots.

Blinking, I force myself to all fours and glance over my shoulder. My wings are nothing but shredded ribbons. The pain’s enough to make me sob, and I don’t know if it’s from the wound or the loss.

Where am I? Which way is Sira? I stagger to my feet and turn in a circle.

The ground is slick mud, running with rivers of red. The smell of blood-soaked earth threatens to choke me. Everywhere I look, I see the dead. Dead Winter fae, dead Elderblood, dead horses, dead goblins. The clashes and cries of battle ring out. Our soldiers are fighting for their lives against Sira’s army, which has only grown in number.

I can’t stay here. I need to take a step. Somewhere nearby, a horse whinnies. A man falls before me, eyes open. I realize it’s only his upper half, his legs ripped off.

I turn in a circle. A goblin swipes for me. One of my briars knocks it away. Maybe it knew Heidigog. I stumble. An Elderblood runs at me, but I can’t bear to kill her, so I grab her around her ankles with a briar instead. She screams like a crazed thing and claws at my thorns, bloodying her hands.

Kel, I whisper in my mind.

Where are you? he roars back. Rosalina, where are you?

But I don’t know. I search for a landmark, but there’s only a broken trebuchet. That could be anywhere. I don’t know what to tell him.

I don’t know how to tell him that there’s no way he’ll find me here.

And the other corners of my mind are silent. Where are my mates? What happened to them?

Panic floods my body. A panic so visceral that I don’t even feel fear. I only feel hollow.

Sira. I need to find Sira.

But there’s nothing in the chaos to orient my way. And no one to save me as an ogre, tall as a catapult, thunders toward me, wielding a dead horse as a club.

Briars shoot up beside me, but I’m too slow. The horse’s body smashes against my shoulder. I fly through the air and crash into the broken trebuchet.

I’m vaguely aware of a crack before it becomes too painful to breathe.

51

Rosalina

Iwish I could stop breathing. Each breath is like forcing razors into my lungs. There’s a wet and sticky feeling in my throat.

I want to see the stars. If only the world would stop spinning. If only the sky wasn’t so covered in smog. I used to be able to see thousands of stars when I peered up at the night sky from the grounds of Castletree. Now the moon hangs alone. Too big, too bright.