My mother shrieks, Wrenley lets out a keening sob, but there’s only silence in my head.
“Why? Why?” Wrenley shrieks again.
Papa’s eyes blink wildly, but somehow, they find hers. His voice is barely a breath. “Because you’re my girl.” His fading gaze trembles over Mom before resting on me. “My girls.”
I need to say something before there’s nothing left.Say something. Say anything!
But Papa’s heart beats once, twice, and then stops.
It is as if Castletree can’t bear to be in this world without him.
Everything collapses.
The ground shakes. The walls crumble. Branches and stonework rain upon us.
And I don’t think any of George’s three girls would have moved if it weren’t for the army of underfae barreling up the staircase. Faustrius leads the charge. Unconsciously, I slip the bundle of roses into my shirt before I’m yanked out of the collapsing tower and, along with Wrenley and my mother, clamped in chains.
One moment. I thought I had one moment. A breath, a second, I would takeanyof it…
But I didn’t get to yell, to tell him I forgive him. To tell him Ilovehim and what a beautiful adventure he set me upon.
Now, there are no feelings in me as Faustrius and his soldiers pull us out of Castletree, over the bridge, and into the Briar. It’s as if my nerves have gone dead, my mind a vacant hum.
I might as well be one of the flecks of dust billowing around me.
Let me waste away in this nothingness. Let it swallow and consume me. I’m sosickof the pain…
But I guess the world thinks I can handle more, because when I cast a final look back, I see my home crumble to root and ash, taking my father’s body with it.
85
Rosalina
The world is not the same.
The Briar, once a labyrinth of thorns thick as tree trunks, now feels like walking between the bones of a skeleton. Caspian’s briars are withered. Rotten. Dead.
Castletree is gone. Not only was it my home, but it was the source of my magic. Wrenley’s magic. The princes’ magic.
All magic.
Now there’s simply a thin sensation in the air, the world around us matte and gray.
We are captured, all of us. Walking in a line, hands clasped with steel. The underfae army had been waiting for all those who escaped the collapsing castle. The staff, Justus, Kel, Ezryn, Dayton, Farron, Caspian. Mom and Wrenley. We march, manacles clanking.
I don’t know where Kairyn and Heidigog are. Probably somewhere amid the other legions of Sira’s possessed creations, their wills stolen.
Faustrius and his soldiers walk beside us, carrying heavy bows, spears, and swords. Their eyes differ from the rest of Sira’s army, still shining various shades of red, yellow, and green. So she hasn’t stolen their wills.
Where are they taking us? I have no idea. We’ve been marching for hours.
And I don’t have the strength to stop the voice that mutters:Who cares?
My father is dead.
I will never hear his boisterous laugh or listen to his crazy theories or watch him fall in love with his Annie all over again.
There isn’t even rage inside me. There’s just nothing at all.
