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Briar’s throat contorted. Her freckles stood out like bite-sized pieces of candy. Taking the hint, she excused herself from Winter and wove through the crowd. I watched her slip from the pear orchard like an innocent princess. And like a sinister jester, I gave the woman three fucking minutes before I followed her.
32
Briar
Never catch the Court Jester’s attention. And never be alone with him.
That had been my rule eons ago. How often I had broken that rule, how eagerly I’d defied it at every opportunity, and how little I regretted giving in to the temptation. Rather, I chased that impulse, exiting the orchard and returning to the castle, knowing he pursued me.
I marked myself as his target, made myself vulnerable by strolling unattended. At this juncture, I had practice with evading my entourage. The jester had taught me this skill, and then I’d perfected it on my own. Like a well-educated, well-groomed, well-bred princess.
The hem of my gown slashed across the patterned runner, my heels muffled by the textile. Grazing my fingers along a mezzanine railing, I shuffled down a corridor.
Amber flames pulsated from the recesses. All the while, the weight of his shadow lingered behind me. Electric sparks tracked down my vertebrae, heat rippled up my thighs, and a hive of fireflies swarmed my stomach. It felt as though time had rewound itself to that fateful first night when he’d cornered me in a hall of mirrors, back in Spring. Only on this eventide, he wouldn’t catch me off guard.
I had lured him on purpose. And that’s how I led him to a trap.
While descending a square stairwell, I detected the light thud of his boots. Others would fail to register the sound, because he was just that good at hiding. But I knew. I recognized every noise he made, as if it was my own.
His steps were my steps. His movements were my movements.
Like a cord. Like a fated bond.
Quickly, I peeked over my shoulder. The attempt yielded no silhouette, nor a single flash of his outline. Yet he might as well be inches behind me, the weight of his presence like silk unfurling down my spine.
Turning back around, I sank my teeth into my lower lip. This sort of chase had never grown tiresome. Each conflict we embroiled ourselves in only served to enhance the anticipation.
We had crossed many lines. But always, new forbidden ones cropped up for us to defy.
I guided him through the complex and into a subterranean level. At the landing, double doors loomed. An iron plaque of Autumn’s coat of arms—bronze leaves, gilded stalks, intersecting axes, and a red fox—ornamented the facade.
Often, I had quested here with Father during our midnight romps in the castle. Poet knew of this place as well, though we’d never been here alone together.
Unlike most restricted areas in the fortress, this one lacked bolts, levers, or padlocks. Individuals without classified admission wouldn’t know how to access it. For the rest of us, this threshold required a code.
From behind, I felt the weight of his eyes watching me. His stare brushed every inch of my exposed flesh like a kiss, particularly the nape of my neck, those invisible lips slicing a path along that delicate space. Already, the knave was trying to distract me.
An intricate brick motif extended between me and the doors. I took the first step, the sole of my heel landing on the right brick, before progressing to the second. Forging ahead, I executed a complicated sequence of steps.
Several lefts and rights. Backwards and forwards. Side to side.
The correct pattern, in the correct order. One mistake would trigger a mechanism. Select the wrong brick, and it would collapse into the ground, then clamp around the intruder’s ankle, shackling them while the alarm sounded.
I did not dwell on such worries but moved with confidence, traversing from one plank to the next. As I reached the final brick, the doors reeled open and disappeared into a set of wall slots. From there, I vanished into a treasure trove.
The relic vault spread itself as wide as a cavern, the air dense and permeated with the scents of dust, old vellum, and aged wood. It should have been dark here. Yet the pearlescent light radiating from a glass globe encasing Winter stardust lent visibility to the archives.
Shelves, cabinets, alcoves, and cubicles displayed curios, mementoes, heirlooms, artifacts, and keepsakes of Autumn’s history, as well as antiquities from The Dark Seasons. From the pelt of an extinct breed of fox; to bronze feathered armor from ancient times; to Autumn’s first illuminated manuscript, its pages scribed with the ink of pulverized gemstones and propped open on a miniature dais. Perhaps the rose Poet had given me would be stored here someday, for others to discover and muse about its significance.
One section housed the Royal jewels, including all the princess crowns, circlets, headbands, and tiaras I’d failed to destroy. Encased behind glass, they glittered like constellations and shimmered like suns. I traced my fingertips along the edge of a crystal leaf headband. It would be easy to destroy the rest of them, to hurl each object from the ramparts, as I had with my gold crown before I was banished.
My fingers curled inward, resisting the temptation.
Then my digits tripped, stalling as the doors slid shut, and boot soles echoed with feline grace through the vault. The rhythmic, predatory noise resounded from around the corner, the sound trickling down my flesh like warm syrup. I’d known he would make it inside without my assistance, before the entrance’s timer lapsed. He’d already acquainted himself with this place, and his kinetic abilities rarely failed him.
Locked inside, he was mine now.
With my pulse accelerating, I strolled to the next aisle. My hands skimmed deadly blades of legends past, busts of fabled fauna, and mythical mirrors. Following in my wake, I heard his own fingers etching the items I’d touched. And as he drew nearer, his pursuit stoked the pleat between my thighs.
