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“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“And I missed you.” He squeezed me closer. “I was hurt, and that hasn’t gone away, but I wounded you as well. I was an asshole when you needed me most, and so I beg your pardon. Maybe it’s different between us now, but you mean everything to me. You do, Briar.
“I love him, and you love him, but that doesn’t mean we’ve unloved each other. Friendships for the ages can survive this shitstorm. Did what I said make any sense? Because hugging you with this lute on my back is uncomfortable. I can’t talk clearly.”
“Perhaps after a minute, you’ll grow accustomed to it,” I croaked. “Eliot?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember when we were fourteen? That song we wrote?”
“The horse kingdom?” He groaned. “Shit, that was awful. Your lyrics.”
“I know,” I sniffled over his shoulder. “I didn’t say it then, but thank you for using them.”
He paused for a moment. “I still have the song.”
I pulled back. “You do?”
“What do you take me for?” Eliot scolded while wiping his thumbs under my eyes. “You mean more to me than men and, well, even music. You mean more to me than my lute. I won’t forget that, no matter how long we’re separated.”
It could be decades before my coronation, when I’d be welcomed back to Spring for the Peace Talks. In the meantime, the other heirs and heiresses would be permitted to join the Talks’ closing meetings, to grow up with glimpses of their futures. I would be excluded from that right.
Mother would travel here by herself. I would not get to see Eliot.
I grasped his collar, thumbed his neck tattoo. “Then you’ll have to come to me.”
“How?” he asked, flattening his hands over mine. “It isn’t possible. No one can travel between the Seasons without the Crown’s permission.”
“I’ve spoken with Mother. We’ll invite Spring to Autumn when the time is right, however long that takes. I have no regrets about what I did, but to bring about a humane revolution, appeasing this court is necessary. I’ll lavish your monarchs with flattery, appeal to their blithe nature, and urge them to bring their prized artists. For the sake of fealty and seeing Autumn grovel, they won’t decline attending, nor at seeing Poet perform again, nor showing off their renowned lute player if the opportunity arises.”
Eliot’s eyes softened. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“I will make it happen,” I swore, my eyes stinging. “We will see each other again someday.”
“You’re dressed like a wood nymph, but you sound like a Royal.”
“No.” Balancing on my tiptoes, I brushed his lips with mine. “I sound like your friend.”
“That, most of all,” he whispered, grinning and kissing me back.
Our foreheads fell together. As my tears dried, I exhaled, blowing part of myself into the wind, so it would remain here with him.
38
Briar
The revels began. Thousands of people from the castle, the lower town, and outlying villages arrived pumping with energy.
I wondered if Poet had ever snuck from the woods to this carnival as a child. He might have. He might have even bumped elbows with me in passing.
The streamer garlands swung into the breeze. Lanterns and torches flapped with hot, orange light. Small fountains overflowed with wine and nectar.
Scantily clad aerial artists flew across the stages. Contortionists held themselves in impossible positions, acting as bars for their partners to tumble across.
Storytellers recited sultry tales from inside tents. Knights combatted bare-chested for onlookers. A puppeteer manipulated his marionettes, whirling them into a seductive waltz.
Artists sold beaded fans and sequined eye masks. Florists peddled edible blossoms that did more than merely taste good.
