“Where’s Papa?”
“He fell asleep. I’m sure he’ll find me here soon enough.”
My brain doesn’t seem capable of any more words, so I attempt a smile, then knot my hands in my nightgown, swishing it idly. Over two and a half decades of missing her, and now she’s right here. Yet I still feel like my feet have sunken into the earth, and I’m staring up at the sky, trying to speak with a star.
Needing something to do, I shuffle over to the four colored roses. I bend down, pretending to examine them, though I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She opens her mouth, closes it. Knots her hands in her nightgown and swishes it.
“So, uh, do you—” I begin.
“Rosalina, I—” she says at the same time.
A beat of awkward silence follows, then we both laugh.
“The Good Lord in high leather boots,” she mumbles under her breath. “I am a mess of a mother, aren’t I?”
“Well, you didn’t have much of an opportunity.”
She wrings her hands together, gazes down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that. The bargain debacle with Sira. I’m sure you heard about it. One grand bungle after another, really.”
I shrug. Guess shrugging is no more a princess thing than a queen thing, but I’m not sure what else to do.
“And the whole ‘cursing your mates’ bit. That was a tad impulsive on my part…” She chews on her bottom lip.
“I’m starting to learn impulsivity is kind of a you thing,” I say, avoiding her gaze.
“You’re probably more suited to this than I ever was.” She lets out a sigh and waves her hand as if indicating the castle. “I get the impression you have your father’s patience.”
I stand and wipe my sweaty hands on my nightgown. “Well, as long as I don’t snore like him, I’m okay with it.”
She laughs, and I can’t help but join in. My mother gives a large exhale and laces her fingers behind her neck, pulling on her hair. “Oh, Rosalina, there is so much I want to say to you. So much I want toknowabout you. And your sister.”
My sister. Wrenley. Where is she? The raw, angry space in my heart cries out,Who cares?But when I close my eyes, draw in a shaky breath, I look at that space, that crying, aching empty space. It’s sayingI care.I care.
Because Wrenley is my sister. And I’m here with our parents and with Caspian, who was as good as a brother to her. And she’s all by herself.
I wouldn’t give up on them: Kel, Ez, Farron, Dayton, or Cas. And they never gave up on me.
What if I could show Wrenley there are people who care for her? That there’s a family waiting for her to return? That no one needs to hide away in the darkness?
Isn’tthatwhat this is all for?
I stare into my mother’s eyes, twin flame gazes burning as one. “We’re going to see this through. The baron is gone. We have the rose and can control any of Sira’s creations. The high rulers of Castletree have restored their power. And you and I are reunited. Let Sira come, bargain or no bargain. We’ll face it.”
My mother quirks her head. “You truly are suited to this.” She glides toward me, and wherever her feet touch the ground, a rainbow of roses arises. My heart drums in my chest as I let my mother look me over, tracing a finger along the curve of my jaw, examining a piece of my hair. “May I…” she breathes. “May I hug you?”
I smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
For the first time in my remembrance, my mother embraces me. She smells of gardens and the pages of a new book and a beam of sunlight after a storm.
“My girls.”
A warm voice echoes through the chamber. We both turn to look at Papa, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, smile crooked on his face. Despite his salt-and-pepper hair mussed from sleep, clothes still dirty from the road, he looks positively dashing. And maybe it’s because the four roses are blooming strong, because there’s hope in Castletree’s bones, but he radiates with life.
“George,” my mother whispers.
“Anya.”
“George!” She runs to him, this centuries-old, good-as-a-goddess queen, and leaps into his arms as if she were a girl.
