CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rose sighed and tucked the cream-white invitation back into its envelope, the crimson wax seal of the Axarian crest—two swords crossed behind a wolf head—brushing her fingertips as she slid the card into the inner pocket of her jacket. She left her room, Eadric’s snores rumbling next door, and padded downstairs. Harry and Orion were puttering about the kitchen preparing breakfast. Quinlan’s team had left before dawn. Orion was teaching Harry the words and the melody to the Axarian anthem in a voice that had both her and Harry cringing on the high notes. She slipped into the dining room and out the back door undetected, past the horses grazing in the clearing and behind the barn, where she had noticed a large flat rock the morning her team had first set out to search for the demon.

Tomorrow would mark the end of their first week demon hunting, and while Harry had been nothing but a wonderful host, Rose couldn’t help but wish the beast would show up already—for Asterin’s sake, if nothing else. With each passing day and the demon still nowhere to be found, the princess’s mood grew increasingly volatile. And on top of that, she was giving poor, smitten Quinlan the cold shoulder, the Immortals knew why. Asterin was a bomb ticking down, and Rose did not want to be anywhere near her when she blew.

Settling onto the flat rock, Rose took out the Fairfest invitation again and wondered if she should accept. All she had to do was burn the seal, which would trigger a charm on the wax to confirm her attendance.

The invitation had arrived just days shy of her and Quinlan’s departure for Axaria, but of course, newly crowned, she had expected it. The reigning monarchs of the kingdoms were always invited, along with scores of favored highborns from around the world. Invitation was exclusive—granted only by Queen Priscilla herself.

Rose remembered tiptoeing out of bed and eavesdropping on her parents’ conversations—as all children do, though she doubted most children had to sneak through four parlors, two guardrooms, and a library to reach their bedchamber. The Eradorian palace didn’t have hallways or corridors. Only rooms leading into more rooms, forcing guests to either learn the lay of the land or get lost—literally. Rose didn’t have anywhere near the number of fingers needed to count how many ghosts supposedly roamed the palace, still searching for a way out.

On that particular night, after the arrival of the invitation, her father had urged Queen Lillian to make the long trip to Axaria. At the time, all Rose knew of the Fairfest Ball was that even the most lavish of parties paled in comparison. So naturally, she hadn’t understood why her mother refused—and refused again and again, year after year.

If she were being honest with herself, she still didn’t understand. Of course she could speculate—an issue of diplomacy or even something on a more personal level. But just like Rose had never found out why in hell her mother had named her Orozalia of all things, perhaps there simply wasn’t a clear answer. Yet now, with her mother dead and that horrible vision of her kingdom falling to pieces so fresh in her mind, would it be wise to throw away the perfect opportunity to establish new alliances? To offer herself up to the other royals so that, in time, she could collect her dues?

Don’t forget that it will be your first public appearance, she thought to herself. Attending would make a statement, but so would not attending. Either way, her choice would impact how the world saw her—and though she didn’t want to care, she had to. She was the Queen of Eradore.

Lux trotted over to her, black eyes shining, and lay down beside the rock to sleep. Eyes closed and bathing in the sun, Rose couldn’t help but absurdly wish that they could switch places. She slipped off the rock and lowered herself beside the stallion, stretching her limbs out. She breathed a lungful of the unmistakable scent of grass and soil and she sighed, a balmy breeze tickling her skin as it whispered across the clearing. Her eyes swept over what her mother used to call a seafoam sky—a muted screen of ocean blue peeping behind a churning, labyrinthine array of eggshell-white wisps, the gaps and seams constantly ebbing, shifting, devouring.

She hadn’t slept well last night, only furthering the weariness of hunting through miles and miles of forest for the demon, and so it was with relief that her eyelids grew heavy.

Just a quick nap, she thought, letting the wind lap at her, tug her along the currents of slumber, and finally engulf her.

She must have napped for hours, because when she woke up, the light had dulled to an afternoon gloom beneath a thick blanket of dolorous clouds. Lux had abandoned her, opting to socialize with the other horses across the clearing instead. Their heads suddenly lifted, upper lips curled and tails clamping down.

Rose’s nose twitched, catching an all-too-familiar scent from a childhood spent with Quinlan. Not seconds later, angry plumes of smoke billowed from the cottage, bright topaz flames crawling along the exterior. She scrambled up and sprinted for the cottage, nearly colliding into a rampaging Buttercup when the mare thundered past her toward the other horses, who were gathering as far away from the cottage as they could—except for Lux, who just whinnied for Rose to run faster.

She prepared to attack the flames from the outside, but then she heard the frantic shouts from within the cottage. Orion isn’t a water-wielder, she realized.

Rose kicked down the back door and hurtled through the dining room. Smoke seeped from beneath the closed kitchen door, so she raced into the living room, which connected through the foyer to the kitchen. There was a curse from above and a half-awake Eadric toppled down the staircase wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs. Rose burst into the kitchen with her affinity stone brandished and the captain at her heels, and shouted, “Aveau explosa!”

Geysers of water erupted from the floor, arcing across the counters and cupboards and surging right through the blazing remains of the oven, extinguishing the inferno in one strike. Rose thrust her hand up and the water glided along the walls and ceiling, penetrating every crevice, quenching every ember and flooding out the other side to douse whatever flames that had escaped her.

Panting, she turned to find Orion and Harry on the porch behind Eadric, gusts of wind blowing through the open front door. Harry looked shaken and Orion guilty, but they were both unharmed.

“What in hell happened?” Rose demanded, arm waving at the grotesque remains of the oven, the metal half-melted and twisted.

“We were baking bread,” Orion said meekly.

Rose stared at him. She felt like she was scolding the twins back home—though, frankly, with all their mad experimenting, a fire would have been nothing. “Does baking bread involve burning down the house?”

Harry scratched the back of his head. “We got a little distracted.”

A groan clawed its way out of her throat. “Can’t you two make out and keep an eye on the oven at the same time?”

“What?” Orion spluttered. “W-we don’t—we haven’t … we just—”

Eadric strode over to him and squeezed his shoulder, forcing the Guardian to look him in the eye. “All of us are here to support you, Orion, so please don’t ever feel like you need to hide anything from us.”

Orion flapped his hands frenetically, a scarlet flush creeping up his neck. “Thank you, but—”

“No buts,” Eadric interrupted. “Unconditional love is all we have for you.” Then the captain narrowed his eyes onto Harry. Rose couldn’t help but take notice how intimidating he looked, even—no, especially in just his boxers, biceps rippling as he shook a finger in their host’s bewildered face. “But you. If you hurt him in any way, shape, or form, know that I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and rip your organs to shreds. Understood?”

Harry gulped. “Very much so.”

Rose sighed, eyeing the scorched walls, clutching her affinity stone. “I can make repairs to the house itself, but you’re out of luck with the oven.”

Orion winced. “Which means no cake for Asterin.”

Eadric chuckled and clapped Orion on the back. “I’m not taking back what I said about unconditional love, but …” His face suddenly went gravely serious. “That’s on you, mate.”

Orion looked to Rose in desperation, but she mirrored Eadric’s expression, thinking again of the princess’s inevitable explosion. “Sorry, Orion. Good luck.”

As a last-ditch effort, Orion turned to Harry, but the hunter had already hightailed it out the back door.

Harry had a routine. Every evening, just after sunset, he would leave the cottage to go and hunt. And since the first day of their arrival, Rose noticed that Asterin had a routine, too. Every evening, the princess saw him to the door, but she had yet to return from her own demon hunt tonight with Luna and Quinlan, so Rose took it upon herself to substitute.

She leaned against the staircase banister in the foyer. As promised, she had restored the walls and ceiling with fresh lumber by melding it to the damaged wood. She’d even managed to replace the cupboards, but the plates—or rather, puddles—within were beyond saving.

“Six strangers stuffed under your roof,” she mused. “We must be driving you crazy.”

Harry’s lips quirked. “I rather enjoy the company,” he said, reaching for his coat. “It certainly gets lonely sometimes.”

“Well, it’s our honor,” Rose said. “You cannot imagine how much we appreciate you letting us stay here with you. Our eternal appreciation wouldn’t be able to express how grateful we are for your kindness and generosity. A million thanks.”

Harry smiled. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’m just grateful that you fixed my kitchen.”

“What?” Rose recoiled, heart hammering. “What did you say?”

“Fixed my kitchen? Oh.” Realization struck Harry and he threw his hands up in defense, backtracking. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, mind working furiously. Had someone told him? Maybe Orion? But surely he wouldn’t reveal her identity. Or would he?

“Immortals, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said—I mean, right, you’re right,” Harry stammered, snatching his crossbow off its hook and fumbling for the doorknob.

Rose covered the space between them in two strides. She grabbed him by the collar before he could escape, dragging him away from the door. “How did you know?” she asked flatly. When he didn’t respond, she shook him. “Who told you?”

He stared at her, brow furrowing. “No one.”

“Then how did you know?”

Harry blinked innocently. “Know what?”

Rose didn’t take the joke well. “I could snap you in half right now,” she growled.

Harry didn’t answer for a long moment. And then he said, “I went to feed the horses earlier while you were napping in the grass. I found Lux chewing up some fancy paper in the barn.”

Rose’s jaw unhinged. “My Fairfest invitation.” She must have left it out on that rock. She remembered that impish glint in those black eyes and resisted the sudden urge to strangle Asterin’s horse.

Harry nodded. “It was all torn up and … wet. It looked important, so I took a glance. I was going to give it to you, but … well, you seemed exhausted and I didn’t want to wake you up. I brought it inside so the wind wouldn’t blow it away.”

“Where is it now?” Rose asked.

Harry took a moment to think. Then his eyes widened. “Oh. Immortals. Rose, I left it on the kitchen counter while Orion and I were making lunch.”

She hadn’t seen it during repairs. “So … you mean to say that …”

“It must have burned up in the fire,” Harry finished, brow knitting. “I am so, so sorry.”

His words sank in. And then she laughed quietly to herself. I guess there won’t be any unburning that, then. “No, it’s fine. Thank you for making that decision for me.” He cocked his head in confusion, but then yelped when she yanked him closer, her voice stone cold. “No one, save the other five people living under this roof, knows of my identity. And those five already have my trust. If anyone else finds out, I will personally see to your suffering.”

Harry blew out a long breath and muttered, “You Axarians are a scary bunch.”

Rose smiled sharply at that. “That they are.” She released him. “But I’m not from Axaria. I’m the Queen of Eradore, and believe me, by the time I’m finished with you, you wouldn’t even remember the meaning of scary.”

Harry hesitated a moment more before tipping his chin in accord. Then he darted out the door, ignoring the porch stairs in his haste, and melted into the night.