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I had quarreled with Mother in public. I’d slapped Cadence for mocking born souls. I stormed into the dungeon and bullied the guard into letting me see Nicu.
Eliot stepped forward and opened his mouth to interject. I shook my head, stopping him. I wouldn’t allow my friend to place his head on the chopping block alongside me. Admitting to helping me and Poet commit treason would only cut short Eliot’s life—and by agonizing means. Spring was prolific not only in the arts but in their executions.
That very fact pumped fear through my bloodstream. It doused me from the inside like ice water as my knees pressed into the foundation.
“Do you deny any of these accusations?” Queen Fatima asked.
By some miracle, I kept my reply steady. “A princess does not deny anything.”
Murmurs and coughs spread through the room. The court shifted, their expressions varying from amazed to appalled.
King Basil puckered his lips. “Those were your daggers?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“You acted alone?”
“I did, Your Majesties.”
“Take care, Briar of Autumn. That’s twice you’ve lied.”
“It was all me. That’s not a lie.”
With a sigh, the king nodded at the sentinels standing post at the entrance. “Bring him.”
Foreboding crawled like insects up my spine. No. No, no, no, no, no.
The double doors whipped apart. Unlike me, Poet didn’t wait for his armed escorts to push him. Also cuffed in irons, he strode ahead of them and then swept to the floor, sliding gracefully across the polished surface on his knees. His arms spread as far as the chains allowed, blood dotting his knuckles.
Welts cluttered his visage. A purple bruise darkened his jaw, several lacerations diced his neck, and a red slash of blood crusted along his forehead.
The sight scalded my insides. Nevertheless, he coasted next to me with blithe indifference, straightened his sleeves, and fake-whispered, “Hello, sweeting. I think we’ve been caught.”
“Stop that shit, both of you,” Basil growled, his countenance bloating with umbrage. “Poet, we’re severely disappointed. This is mutiny at best, treachery at worst. For your sake, tell us this a massive prank derived for Lark’s Night.”
“’Tis not,” he answered, swinging his head toward the dais. “I give you my word as a man who jests.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Hardly ever. But that’s what you pay me for.”
Nervous chuckles echoed through the assembly.
“Pity for you,” His Majesty alleged. “If you had taken your escape more seriously, you would have outrun our knights.”
“If you took humanity more seriously, I wouldn’t have had to try.”
The knights must have suspected two parties and split up when Poet created that diversion. They must have also decided this belatedly, since I’d succeeded in delivering Nicu to Jinny before being darted. Moreover, the knight who found me mightn’t have spotted me at all, had I not been distracted by memories of my father.
“This is an affront to the Peace Talks, Princess Briar,” Fatima censured. “What does Autumn have to say for itself?”
“Don’t vilify her, Majesties,” Poet drawled. “If she’s gone rogue, the fault is with me. After I targeted the princess for ridicule on her first night here, she impressed me with her tenacity, and that impression stuck. Because her virtuous Autumn nature was no match for my conniving Spring ways, I manipulated her into helping my cause.
“As for why I committed mutiny—not that you asked, but I have a tender spot for children and a grudge against Summer. The Season and its monarch annoy me, so I decided to milk his temper for all the bullshit it’s worth. I’ll admit, he’s such an easy target that I got carried away.”
“You insufferable parasite!” King Rhys of Summer hollered, spittle flying from the black thatch of his mustache.
“The princess was under my spell.” Poet raised an eyebrow, his voice cutting to the quick as he scrutinized the room. “And don’t each of you know what that fuckery is like.”
