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When I didn’t deny her comment, the princess’s expression hardened. “So you’ll leave Eliot out of your flings. And you won’t flaunt your conquests in front of him. Otherwise, it could cause harm.”
“Funny,” I sneered. “Here, I thought we were talking about the minstrel.”
Briar’s glower faltered. “What happened with you was a moment of weakness.”
“Was it, now? For whom?”
“For both of us. The forest—”
“You forgot the part where I said the woodland enhances what’s already inside you.”
“Which was still afflicted,” she reasoned. “We’d been recovering from dire circumstances. We were overwhelmed and sought a release from the trauma, so no matter what, our actions were compromised. Even if they weren’t, that would be criminal.”
“I suppose that’s an unfortunate truth.”
“But we’re back now. We’re above this.” Her throat bobbed. “It didn’t mean anything.”
I took one step closer, testing the boundary. As predicted, she remained still. Yet her breathing hitched.
It didn’t mean anything.
Only two words fit in my mouth. “Of course.”
“Right,” she clipped.
It didn’t mean anything. It would be criminal.
At least, I understood one half of what she meant. If our brief dalliance went further and got exposed, the court would doubt its foundation and how it began. That would lead to questions, which would lead to inquisitions.
None would think twice about the infamous Court Jester making a sexual target of someone they deemed a stuffy innocent. But if that innocent were a Royal? And if that stuffy target were Briar of Autumn? Oh that, they wouldn’t comprehend.
I singled out courtiers, not future sovereigns. And she was the last female in The Dark Seasons anyone would expect to melt into my arms.
Aligning myself with this heiress could place my carefully orchestrated plans in jeopardy. In turn, that would destroy any chance of swaying the monarchy, of paving the way for Nicu to have a better, safer future.
So no, this wasn’t merely about Eliot or a potential scandal. If we lost our respective powers, how could I get what I wanted? And how could she ever help me? That was what Briar was saying.
Not only would the outcome hurt my son. It would hurt this princess, ruin her beyond measure. If that happened, she would suffer.
Protectiveness curled my knuckles. If anyone wounded her, I’d be forced to do bodily damage to them. Inflict the slightest harm to Briar, and I would tear them to shreds.
That warning extended to yours truly. Being with me threatened to weaken her influence.
For once, I wanted something in this court that I couldn’t have. For all my power, this was one exception where my cunning words wouldn’t get it for me.
Even if that weren’t so, the more important dealbreaker was this: She didn’t want me.
Briar had enjoyed my touch and my taste. But given the choice, this princess would rather it never happened again. And I was many things, but a predator wasn’t one of them. I didn’t lure unwilling partners to my bed.
The aftereffects of this moment lingered. Later, it killed my appetite during the feast, as the princess and I sat among nobility, her mother at her side and the seven ladies at my own. I ignored her presence, as Her Highness ignored mine.
Eliot watched us from the corner, where he strummed his lute. His devoted brown eyes hopped from her to me, drinking us in with relief.
Longing for a story, the Crown requested the tale of our disappearance. I obliged, becoming the jester they worshipped. Rising with a flourish to their applause, I sauntered to the head of the assembly, in my element, where I belonged.
Rage and yearning fueled my actions. Daring a glimpse of that scorching red hair and those stoical features, I took a breath and a bow.
21
