Silver Rose 🌹

The Slide

Lyra woke up warm.

Too warm. And something was breathing on her hair.

She opened her eyes. Kael was asleep.

Kael. The Ice Prince. The boy who never slept on duty. Asleep.

His head was tipped back against the cave wall, his mouth slightly open, his arms still locked around her waist under the cloak. His sleeveless guard shirt was crumpled, his hair was full of black ash-snow, and he had a little drool on his chin.

Lyra stared. She had never seen him sleep before. He looked younger. 18, but without the stiff captain mask, he looked 15. The boy who used to race her to the stables.

She should wake him. The salt map was flickering — it had less than 12 hours left.

She didn't wake him. For 30 extra seconds, she just let herself look.

Then the cave dripped. Cold water from melting black snow landed right on Kael's nose.

He woke up instantly, guard reflexes. Sword half-drawn, eyes wide, scanning for danger —

— and found Lyra inches from his face, wrapped in his cloak, grinning.

"Morning, Captain Drool," she said.

Kael wiped his mouth, horrified. "I was not— I do not drool! I was conducting a tactical eye-rest!"

"You were snoring," she said solemnly.

"I do not snore!"

"You were snoring the royal anthem. Very off-key."

Kael stood up too fast and hit his head on the cave roof. "Ow— I mean, we must go. Storm is over."

Outside, the world had changed. The black storm had covered everything in smooth, shiny black ice. The mountain slope that yesterday was jagged rock was now a perfect, steep ice slide going down for what looked like miles.

Lyra stepped out and immediately slipped. Kael caught her.

"The path," he said, looking at the salt map. The glowing silver line now went straight DOWN the ice slide. "We have to slide."

"Slide?" Lyra looked down. The ice disappeared into clouds. "Kael, that's literally a death slide. We will die."

"It's faster. And the map says the Valley is at the bottom. If we try to walk, the ice will c***k and we fall anyway. If we slide, we control it."

He said "control it" like a man who had never slid down anything fun in his life.

Lyra, despite being a princess, had slid down the castle banisters 100 times when she was 10, while Kael told her it was against safety regulations.

"You've never slid down an ice mountain before, have you?" she asked.

"I have completed the Ice Descent training at—"

"That's a no."

Kael tightened his cloak around them both and sat down at the edge of the ice, pulling Lyra down with him onto his lap. "Hold onto me. Put your legs around— I mean, hold my waist. Arms around my neck. Tight."

Lyra's face went red, but she did it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs tucked. She was basically sitting in his lap on a giant ice slide of death.

"This is highly inappropriate," Kael muttered, but his arms locked around her like iron.

"This is highly tactical," Lyra whispered back, her nose against his.

"Ready?" he asked.

"No."

"Good."

He pushed off.

For half a second, nothing happened. Then GRAVITY happened.

They shot down the Dead Mountains at what felt like 100 miles an hour.

"AAAAAAAAAAAH!" Lyra screamed immediately, not a princess scream, a full goblin scream. Her silver circlet flew off. "KAAAAAAEL WE ARE GOING TO DIIIIIE!"

"We are NOT going to die! We are descending with purpose!" Kael shouted back, but his voice cracked on "purpose" because they hit a bump and went airborne for two seconds.

They landed with a splash of ice crystals. Kael tried to steer with his boots like a sled, but the ice was too smooth. They spun in circles.

"WE'RE SPINNING!" Lyra screamed, clutching him.

"I AM AWARE WE ARE SPINNING!"

They spun past a frozen mountain goat who looked very judgmental.

Then something changed. The initial terror passed, and the wind was in their faces, and they were flying. Lyra stopped screaming and started laughing, wild and free.

"Kael! Look! We're flying!"

Kael looked at her — hair flying, eyes bright, laughing on a death slide — and something in his chest broke open. A real, loud laugh burst out of him. Not the small twitch from the forest. A full, boyish, helpless laugh that he hadn't done since he was 12.

"YOU ARE INSANE!" he laughed, spinning them again on purpose.

"YOU ARE LAUGHING! THE ICE PRINCE IS LAUGHING!"

"I AM NOT— WHOOOA!"

They hit the final slope, a near-vertical drop. The valley below finally appeared — a valley of silver mist, and in the center, something glowing faintly pink-silver.

The Silver Rose.

But they were going too fast.

"We have to stop! We have to stop!" Lyra yelled.

Kael dug his boots in, his sword in, sparks flying. They slowed, but not enough. They were going to crash into the valley floor at full speed.

At the last second, Kael twisted. He took the full impact on his back, curling around Lyra to protect her, sliding 20 more feet through silver grass.

They stopped.

Silence. Silver mist. The smell of flowers.

Lyra was on top of Kael, both of them panting, covered in black ice dust.

"Are we alive?" she whispered.

Kael opened one eye. "We are... alive. I think my spine is now tactical powder, but alive."

Lyra looked down. They were in a field of soft silver grass that came up to her knees. And in the middle, on a little hill, under a beam of moonlight even though it was day, was a single flower.

It was not like a normal rose. Its stem was silver, its petals were translucent, like glass filled with moonlight. It pulsed softly, like a heartbeat.

The Silver Rose.

Lyra gasped. Tears filled her eyes. "Kael... we found it..."

Kael sat up slowly, wincing. He looked at the rose, then at Lyra. Her circlet was gone, lost on the slide. Her hair was a mess. Her nightgown was torn. And she was crying and smiling at the same time.

"You found it," he said softly. "You did it."

"We did it," she corrected. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up. "Come on!"

They ran together through the silver grass toward the rose. The valley was perfectly quiet, no wind, no whispers.

As they got closer, the rose glowed brighter.

But 10 feet away, they both stopped. Carved into a stone in front of the rose were words, glowing silver.

Lyra read them out loud, her voice shaking:

_"One soul for many. To take the rose, give what you love most. Freely."_

Kael's hand went cold in hers.

What they loved most.

Lyra thought of her mother, father, Milo, stone in thorns.

Kael thought of... Lyra.

They looked at each other.

"What does that mean?" Lyra whispered.

Kael didn't answer. Because he already knew.

The rose wasn't asking for a life.

It was asking for love.