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My own gaze declared,I’ll never have to.
Poet’s countenance slid over my traveling dress, admiring the opulent style and the way it accentuated my body. Most especially, he strayed to my hair, which fell unbound. A pair of gold spade earrings ornamented the ensemble, the jewels dangling behind my locks.
The jester’s hot gaze burned right through my clothing. Seasons, my thighs tightened, and the nexus of my legs warmed. This man never failed to rouse me, even while fully dressed and in public. We would have quite a challenge ahead of us, as prudent Autumn would hardly fail to notice such exchanges, nor be accustomed to them.
Nonetheless, his stare emboldened me. It spurred me to respond, to play in kind.
Clearing my throat, I reached into the carriage, extracted the ribbon, and presented the evidence. “You cannot do anything simply, can you?”
“Perish the thought.” Poet broke from his leisurely stance and sauntered my way. “Would you say you’re fond of me?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “A thousand times, yes.”
“Splendid. In that case …”
With reverence, the jester stopped inches from me, his scent lacing through my senses. I watched, my heart knotting as he tied the length of red material around my leather-bound wrist. His fingers blazed through the textile, so that I pooled with need beneath my dress. No one melted me as he did.
To be sure, no other gift would ever be as precious as the bracelet. My expression swore as much. And his answering gaze simmered, assuring me that my clothes would be off by now, were we alone. To which my temperature rose, agreeing with him.
Our fate would not be easy, nor would the struggles that awaited us. We might face a lapse in Autumn’s benevolent nature. Civil disorder could erupt. Either that, or the danger might surface from within the court through veiled threats masked in politeness, the lingering looks of courtiers, or who knew what else.
Change would take longer than we wished. Our actions had earned us a fair share of enemies across The Dark Seasons.
I thought of similar mornings in Autumn, the air laced in fog and the sky dim. However tranquil it felt, I’d forgotten how a subdued canopy shielded one’s world right before the turbulence barreled in, whisking everything that was once settled into a new frenzy. This intermission felt like a quite before the storm.
However, Poet and I would endure. We knew how to do that now.
“Briar,” he murmured, snapping me out of the haze.
I marshalled my thoughts, fell into his green gaze, and sunk into the strong arms that encased me. “Poet.”
“Where did you go just now?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll always come back.”
At that, he clasped me tighter. “Speaking of which, you haven’t asked what sort of mischief I intend for this trip.”
I feigned astonishment. “Jesters do not wait to be asked. And princesses never inquire, they command.”
“Clever woman,” he complimented. “I thought of a story. Verily, I’ve had it in my mind for a while. Bits and pieces have entered my thoughts but never the larger scope. I’ve realized there’s more to it now. I’d like your approval to recite it for tonight’s meal whilst we make camp.” He leaned in and whispered, “A warning. I’m a father, and some parts aren’t fit for a child’s ears.”
“I would not fret.”
To demonstrate, I glanced over his shoulder and jutted my chin toward the display behind him. Poet twisted and followed my trajectory to where Nicu ran across the cobbled pavement and slammed into my mother’s side. She gasped in surprise while servants and knights stalled, their features lifting in bewilderment.
Yet Mother smiled and strapped her arms around Nicu, who had charmed her the second Poet introduced them. Then she knelt before the child and whispered, her words muffled but discernable. “Would you like to ride with me?”
Nicu’s eyes flared wide. His head jumped between the queen and the grand, lacquered carriage. At last, he pivoted toward us, his visage alight with excitement.
Poet nodded, silently giving his permission.
Elated, the boy snapped his fingers. At the sound, Tumble galloped from the castle’s threshold and sprang into the vehicle, followed by Nicu.
Mother cast the pair a dazed but fond look. Noticing her audience, she glanced at the hovering figures with a protective frown until the entourage jumped back into motion.
Before she ascended into the carriage, Mother transferred her regard to Poet and me. Pride kindled there, despite how she worried for us. With a private wink, she slipped into the transport, the jacquard folds of her cloak sweeping behind her.
One of the knights appeared beside us and grunted. “There is a carriage assigned and waiting, Your Highness.”
