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“Ah.” Poet reclined in the seat. “We’ve tried explaining certain things like distance and direction to him, to no avail. Though he remembers every word of what we say, it eventually loses its meaning to him. From that alone, we suspect he wouldn’t understand the rest. Mayhap when he’s older, but for now Jinny and I focus on giving Nicu a happy life and teaching him how to be safe, how to protect himself in this world. Apart from that, he’s buoyantly unaware.”
I thought about that and many other things. If I saw no means to challenge the law, I could not imagine a jester would succeed.
Still, Poet was intelligent, persuasive, and passionate.
A spark ignited in me that perhaps …
Perhaps together we could …
We could nothing. Not when I’d be leaving court at the month’s end.
If he were a citizen of Autumn, we might work together.
But this wasn’t Autumn.
When my gaze slid to his ribbons, Poet’s mouth quirked. “Nicu made them for me—well, I helped without him knowing it. Tying knots on his own would be a difficulty. You might say I use them as tokens to mark my targets, as symbols of us against them.”
Us against them. I cringed, unsure of my place within that statement.
“You’ll notice them hanging from the cottage ceiling,” he continued. “We use them to help give Nicu direction. It’s been working so far.”
Just then, an alarming detail invaded my memory. I clasped Poet’s arm. “The ribbon you left on my pillow. Poet, I tied it to a bush at the forest border when I followed you. And our footprints,” I fretted. “They could lead a search party here.”
He tensed until I released him. “If they find the ribbon, it’ll draw them toward one of the thoroughfares, but they’ll head full west after that, since more crimes are reported from there. That’s how Spring patrols. By the time they quit that area, we’ll have returned to the court, and a messenger will be dispatched to the outlying unit.
“As for our treasonous tracks, the storm took care of them. We’re southeast of the castle, so this area would be the troop’s last stop, out of routine as much as superstition. Despite this forest’s reputation for inciting naughty behavior, which doesn’t usually deter people, I also convinced the court these parts were haunted.”
I peered at him, suspicious. “How did you achieve that?”
“I’m Poet,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“And monarchy aside, how do you know about official procedures?”
“I’m a glorious kisser—and even better in bed.”
Scandalized laughter popped from my lips. “You are impossible.”
“Am I?” His stare verged on explicit. Invasive, as though he was scouring my mind, picking through all the disquieting thoughts I’d had about him.
Eager for a distraction, I thrust the spoon into my mouth, only to remember it was empty and that I’d finished the soup.
The jester smirked, then chuckled as I whacked his arm with the spoon.
14
Briar
The rains continued throughout the day. I slept on and off, comforted by a steaming cup of herbal tea that Jinny brought me. In and out, I floated between blackness and clarity.
A masculine shape stared at me from an open doorway. A hand swept its fingers over my brow, murmuring a rhyme to quell my shuddering.
A passing vision of Mother and I, nestling in bed and whispering under a quilt.
A flash of Father snapping at me, then my small body running off into the wildflower forest, then my eyes peeking from a hiding spot as he searched frantically for me.
Sometime during the night, I awakened to find the neighboring mattress vacant. Sweeping my blanket aside, I stood and hobbled to the doorway. Needing reassurance, I checked around the corner and saw them.
Poet and Nicu.
