Page 144 of Crowned By Roses

Part Six

transformation

63

Rosalina

The air smells like decay, the wind whispering in the same cadence as a rattling breath. Harpies fall from the sky. Sea hags wheeze on the banks of the river like fish out of water.

Sira’s creatures are dying without their queen to tether them here.

Dawn breaks across the horizon. We’ve been fighting all night. It seems like only minutes ago I first fell upon the battle, and yet I don’t remember what my skin feels like, not caked in blood.

I can’t concentrate on that. The cool rays of morning light spread over my armor, my wings, my skin. I lean into that. The sun has risen again.

“I need a representative from each realm,” I say, standing and stepping away from Wrenley and Kairyn.

Keldarion, Ezryn, Dayton, Farron, and Caspian step forward.

I hold my sister’s frantic gaze. “And from the Above.”

Wrenley looks desperately to Kairyn, who sits crumbling beside her. “I can’t leave⁠—”

“I’ll watch him.” Jack steps through the fog.

“Where did you come from?” Ezryn growls.

“The Flutterwing had everything covered.” Jack puts a hand behind his neck. “I felt I needed to be here.”

Wrenley levels him with a hard glare, fingers clutching onto Kairyn’s dark armor.

“We can’t do this without you, Wrenley,” I say sternly.

She gives a snarl and stands. Jack kneels beside Kairyn and gently takes the larger fae’s head in his lap.

“I will keep watch out here,” my mother says.

The princes and my sister follow me through the ash and soot. Scattered thorns catch on my boots. I’m not sure what I’m looking for until I see it: the front door. It lies flat, a large crack running through the wood, but I brush away the char and push the rubble to the side. And there, beneath the door, is the entrance hall’s rosebush.

The stems and thorns are black as rot. But nestled within the rosebush, one flower blooms, red as the sunrise. One flower clinging to life.

A rose for my Rose.

“I could not save Castletree before,” I say. “But that was when I thought I was on my own. You and the Vale have proven otherwise.”

I kneel and put my hand on the rosebush. Keldarion sits beside me, and the others follow.

“What are we to do, Rosie?” Farron asks.

“What my mother did all those years ago. Bring magic to the Vale.”

From a pouch in my armor, I pull out the bag of seeds, gifted to me from the roses in the Gardens of Ithilias. I hadn’t in my wildest dreams imagined planting them at Castletree, but everything in my heart tells me this is right.

“Hold out your hands,” I say.

They do, and I place a little seed into each of their palms, keeping one for myself. We dig our fingers into the fresh, unturned dirt. Dirt touched by tragedy but also hope and love and forgiveness.

I drop my own seed in the earth and cover it with the soft soil. We grew carrots and lettuce and beans. A little flower shouldn’t be much harder.