Edward offered a small nod.

“Begin the Renewal!” a folk from the emerald banners screamed, and that was it—a thousand voices began chanting as two fairies landed in the crowd, faces ashen. Porethius’s hand found Gathadriel’s.

“It’ll be alright, Red,” Edward said. “Remember that you are loved. Perhaps not by those ashworms in crimson capes, but by One who matters more.”

Cane blinked, brows drawn, and Edward smiled as he glanced at the familiar banners with his family’s crest, at the Green villagers, at the wreaths. He recalled his early seasons chasing Ever through Timber Castle and tossing glass beetles in her hair.

“Green?” Cane dragged a step closer.

Edward glanced up, settling on the Red once-prince’s face. “Greater love hath no folk than this; that he lay down his life for his brother,” he quoted, dropping his blade and pulling a set of medallions from his pocket.

Cane’s burgundy eyes narrowed—he inhaled, but ‘twas too late. For, from the first moment Edward had seen Cane across the rink, Edward knew this was his cross to bear.

Popping erupted through the clearing when the Green Prince slapped the medallions together, and a spring of snow blanketed him in white. And as the flakes unleashed their fury, Cane’s shouts, along with the other sounds of Winter, died fast from his ears.

Quietness came with the light that followed. Edward’s spirit was approached by a warm, familiar prayer who lit the way, beckoning him with a giggle, a pleasant flit, and a flirt. And Edward Green found the Truth he had known was by his side since the day he had uttered that prayer by the fountain.

For the first time in many seasons, peace came flooding in like a warm hand to welcome him home.

THE TWENTIETH

THE TWENTIETH

Witnesses were screaming. Even the sneering Red Princes at the sidelines had dropped jaws now. I was on my feet, moving toward the rink, pushing through garland-wrapped men and women with my bound hands, Zane on my heels. The Evergreen Host didn’t try to stop us—they stood like statues; gazes fixed on the rink.

Their long-lost Prince of the Pines was dead.

Cane dropped the golden sword and bounded to the pile of snow on the ice. A Ruby Legionnaire slid from the Reds to intercept him, but he was ripped back by Porethius Plum. The fire in her violet eyes could have set the snow ablaze.

Cane swept to the snow pile, tufts of white floating, sticking to his jacket.

“Bring him back! Elowin, his work isn’t done!” Cane begged. “I still need him! Kingsblood, bring him back!”

The spectators grew quiet, all listening to the pleas of the surviving prince of the Renewal.

“He loved you like a brother.” The Queen of the Pines’s whisper brought Cane’s face up, his tears glimmering in the morning light.

“More than my own brothers.”