Page 62 of Crowned By Roses

What am I missing?

Clang. Clang. Clang.

I look up, eye twitching beneath my helm. Keldarion and Dayton have found two metal pokers and are sparring. They laugh and circle each other, each battling for the offense. Clang. Clang. Clang. A vein in my forehead throbs each time their weapons meet.

“No, no, no! I moved my black knight to the third position, which means only a white moonstone can take it!” Caspian’s voice cuts through the chamber.

I jerk my head to see him and Farron sitting across from each other, a makeshift checkered board drawn into the dust covering the floor. They’ve assembled chunks of rock and marble into what looks like some sort of board game.

“You’ve forgotten the rules already, and you’re the one who made them,” Farron snaps. “If a captain’s been twice powered up by a wizard piece, then it becomes an ivory sentinel and can take a black knight in third position!”

I swear I hear the handle of the hammer crack beneath my grip.

A shower of dust and pebbles clatters over my body, and I look up to see Jack clambering atop the forge. He holds up his finger in a shushing motion before leaping onto one of the ruined pillars, nimble as a thief. He skitters along the columns before flipping upside down and hanging like a bat. I notice he’s chosen a spot right above where Wrenley sits, cross-legged, in meditation. Quiet. I decide I’ve never liked her more than I do in this moment.

Jack lets out a hoot, and Wrenley leaps up, box cutters appearing in her hands from who knows where she hid them in her armor. When she sees Jack, her lip curls into a snarl. “Why are you doing that?”

“Why not?” He rocks back and forth, his clipped wings fluttering.

“Stop it!”

“Why?” His smile stretches a bit too wide.

“It bothers me,” she hisses.

Jack reaches out and flicks her pointed ear. “Hmm. So you’re easily bothered. Good to know.”

Wrenley covers her ear with her palm, and pink flushes all the way from her neck to her hairline. A sound emits from her throat reminiscent of a teapot screeching, and I swear to the stars and back, I will throw myself off this isle right now to make all this chatter stop.

Just when I feel like it’s the heat pouring out of my ears that will light this forge, a soft hand brushes my arm.

Rosalina comes up beside me. Her gentle touch caresses my shoulder, then my back. “It’s going to be okay.”

A deep inhale reverberates through my helm. “I have to figure this out. I’m the only one who can.”

“We’re all in this together,” she says, pressing her body to mine. She fits so perfectly in my arms. “What do you need?”

We may be in this together, but no one else can light the forge. No one else can craft the weapons.

It’s up to me.

“Time,” I tell her. “Just give me time.”

Rosalina squeezes my hand and offers a sympathetic smile.

We both know time is the one thing we don’t have.

22

Rosalina

The doors groan as Farron and I push them open, and we step into a dreamworld made of dust and light.

We’ve found the library.

Floors spiral upward toward the domed ceiling. Everything is built with creamy white stone that looks as smooth and soft as butter. The stairs are crafted of stained glass, and large windows let in the bright sunlight.

I can only imagine what it looked like before. Though moss now climbs up the shelves and curling roots have pushed through the ground, it still might be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.