On an island like Eidolonia, and especially on a property of Rosamund Highvalley’s, it was unwise to open mysterious boxes you’d found inside garden statues.
All the same, maybe she’d hidden a second Lava Flow charm here, or something else that could help Merrick’s father. Maybe his mother somehow knew about it and had broken open the gargoyle to give it to him. Lightning was more often associated with fire fae, but many air fae could conjure it too. Besides, booby-trapped boxes weren’t the kind of thing that happened often or anything …
Willing to take the consequences, he pried at the lid with a stick until it popped off.
Nothing happened, and nothing inside moved. He sat on a fallen cedar branch with the open box in his lap. It contained a leather-bound book and a jumble of items of metal, wood, glass, and stone. He lifted the book out and opened it.
A sheet of paper was stuck in the front. Merrick unfolded it and deciphered the handwriting in purplish-blue ink.
This box with these items of Rosamund’s was left for me upon our roof, presumably by fae, the day before yesterday, more than six months after she disappeared. She had taken the box with her on her expedition into their realm. I have received no word of what became of her, and perhaps I never will.
I do not think anyone can do what Rosamund proposes in this book when she herself could not. All have accepted the loss of Prince Larkin. Let him rest. She was nonetheless a noble witch for seeking a way to free him, and I know that it tormented her to have done what she did. Let the Lord, Lady, and Spirit alone judge her, and may they bring peace to us all, including His Highness, whether he sleep forever or wake again one day.
To honour her I hide this book and her possessions rather than destroy them, whilst still hoping that no one attempts this dangerous endeavour should they find this.
Philomena Quintal
Oct. 3rd, 1804
CHAPTER 4
MERRICK SMOOTHED THE BRITTLE PAPER, frowning. Philomena Quintal had been Rosamund’s wife, and a witch as well. He didn’t remember all the historical details, but he knew Rosamund had fallen out of favor with the court after the war with Ula Kana, then some years later, had set out on a research mission into the fae realm and never returned.
The letter suggested Rosamund felt tormented for putting Prince Larkin into the sleep. Merrick had never heard that interpretation. Why should she regret it? Larkin had volunteered. Confining Ula Kana into an enchanted sleep and doing the same to a royal was the only deal the fae ambassadors had been able to bring to the table. Larkin’s lover had been killed in the attacks, so he had opted to go to sleep forever to save the island. Such was the tragically romantic story, at least. Merrick couldn’t imagine why Rosamund would have wanted to wake the prince again and break the truce.
Merrick began reading Rosamund’s journal, deciphering each scribble, abbreviation, and sketch as best as he could. It took long enough that his leg was starting to fall asleep from his perch on the branch. But he stayed, staring at the pages with a chill spreading around his heart.
A letter from Rosamund to the prince, written in the middle pages of the journal, told it clearly enough.
HRH Prince Larkin
Your Royal Highness,
There is little I can say to express my chagrin at the injustice I did you. As I told you when placing the spell upon you, I did it only to save all who remained of our people, all those we loved. Ula Kana needed to be stopped. But as I also told you then, and meant with my whole heart, I do not intend to leave you in this sleep forever. That is a fate no human, and possibly no faery either, should suffer, not unless he should volunteer himself willingly, which we both know you did not.
I am working to free you. I have put measures in place to do so. But given the nature of the agreement with the fae, this is a most difficult endeavour. It requires confining Ula Kana some new way, and if I could have done so before, I would have, but time was running out. She had already destroyed much of the city and would return any day to demolish the rest. You remember everybody’s panic and fear, and I hope you understand why I acted thus.
I am beginning to despair that I will ever achieve the task of imprisoning her in some alternate fashion. Most of the fae will not work further toward any common purpose with me, and I cannot do it without them. Too many resent the way I have used magic to acquire land for humans—unfairly, as they see it.
It therefore may be, noble friend, that I do not live to see this plan come to fruition. If this is so, then it is my wish that some other witch undoes what has been the greatest shame and most egregious crime of my life, and awakens you, once they have solved the problem of Ula Kana.
I cannot at this time trust the palace or government with this knowledge or this task. I have thus arranged it so that you can be rescued without their involvement, if need be. They and I have between us too many strong disagreements and irreparable ruptures. Indeed, as you will know now if you are awake and reading this, they have ended my tenure as court sorcerer, largely due to their bitterness over losing you along with so many citizens. There has been much dismay with witches among the general public, and you will have found that your views on restricting magic use are the more popular by now, and that you have very nearly won our long-ongoing debate.
I may regret that fact and still strive for more magical freedom, but all the same, friend, I hope you believe me when I say I do not excuse myself, and never have, for what I did to you, and if you are reading this letter, then I am most sincerely glad you have been rescued.
I remain, even in spirited opposition, your faithful subject,
Rosamund Highvalley
Merrick’s gaze drifted up from the page, settling on the broken shards of statuary.
Larkin hadn’t volunteered. Rosamund had forced him into the sleep. And no one had ever known, except Philomena, and Larkin himself. Who still lay in Floriana Palace in Dasdemir, trapped asleep in the bower for two hundred and twenty years against his will.
Sweet Lord and Lady.
Rescue him!, Merrick’s heart shouted. Not that he knew how—the journal didn’t seem to address that. Surely he should at least inform the government and the palace? Let them free their long-imprisoned relative?
He made himself take a deep breath and began leafing back through the journal. No, nobody could just free Larkin. Even if it were easy—even if the palace did know how, which they probably did—they weren’t going to, because waking the prince would free Ula Kana too. She would rise up from her sleep, in her guarded cell in Arlanuk’s realm, and undoubtedly resume terrorizing humanity. Still, the injustice nagged at him.
This was silly. It was only because he’d been thinking about Larkin recently, trying on his face for the festival play. Larkin had been asleep for over two centuries. The issue could wait.
As for Rosamund: this piece of the historic record definitely didn’t improve her already-problematic reputation, but she hadn’t been a complete villain either. She did want to free Larkin, but had disappeared before she could accomplish it.
On some pages, Rosamund had sketched maps of fae territory. She had also drawn what seemed to be the items in the box, but what they were for, he couldn’t tell. He’d need an expert in magical history, such as Sal, to decipher Rosamund’s shorthand. Somehow all of it added up to a plan to contain Ula Kana after breaking the sleep spell, he assumed.