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“You think he’s planning to enter the castle undetected.”
“I know he is,” I said. “Sometime in the future when he’s not supposed to be here. The question is, to what end?”
“Nicu,” she fretted, the name claiming my full attention. “Will he try—”
“Not a fucking chance,” I growled.
Never mind that Rhys wouldn’t get within a hundred paces of my son. I’d gobble the king alive before then. But Summer wouldn’t try for Nicu. The bigot would consider it beneath him to attack the same vulnerable spot twice, especially if that vulnerable spot were a so-called simpleton child. Summer wouldn’t risk failing and suffering the humiliation for a second time.
That said, I refused to discount Rhys’s ability to strike somewhere fragile. He knew his enemies each had something to lose, and he’d find a way to abuse that. ’Tis what I would do.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Avalea stressed. “Briar is gone; he separated the two of you. There’s nothing left to gain by trespassing.”
“The princess is alive. Her jester is alive,” I rebutted. “Rhys probably suspects his victory is temporary and aims to rectify that. Or he just likes beating a dead horse.”
“Then whatever he’s plotting, perhaps you’ve already intercepted him. If not, he can’t be intending anything immediate, what with Summer’s impending departure alongside Spring.”
That stood to reason. In addition to Summer, Spring presently resided in a guest suite. Basil and Fatima had arrived for Reaper’s Fest, having been invited by Autumn as a gesture of truce after how Briar and I had betrayed them. But in the wake of bloodshed at the courtyard, the annual revels had been postponed, for who knew how long. Thus, both Seasons would be departing over the next few days.
“We’ll find out Summer’s plan,” Avalea determined. “In the meantime, I’ll have the troops seal off the tunnels.”
I shook my head. “Keep them open. Have soldiers patrol from a distance.” My voice lowered another octave. “You don’t catch a hound by removing the bone.”
Avalea exhaled. “Very well. But unearthing and subsequently thwarting Rhys’s intentions shall work only if you keep your thirst for vengeance in check.”
Sigh. The sacrifices one had to make. “At your service, Majesty.”
Matter of fact, I welcomed the request with open arms. A jester was more cunning than I’d been. A jester would have attacked from a finely honed angle. Whilst my feelings for a certain princess had elevated my temper, the sharpest attack didn’t come from a blade. Frying Rhys to a strip of bacon would have been delightful, but wielding my tongue like a whip would achieve an even greater pleasure.
Avalea bowed her head in farewell, indicating I’d be here a while. For appearance’s sake and Rhys’s benefit.
My words delayed her at the door. “I … can’t say her name.”
The truth revealed itself like a chink, like something dislodged and unlikely to mend. It plagued me with a longing so violent, I marveled at my ability to stand upright. To say nothing of how my throat clotted.
Attempting to quell the panic was a futile effort. Bandits, assassins, and rioters were the tamest obstacles my princess had to worry about out there. In The Dark Seasons, we worshiped and feared almighty nature for a good reason. It was one thing to fight humans, but that didn’t mean they were the most dangerous things in this world.
Silently, the queen absorbed my confession. She cast me another glance over her shoulder, her eyes watering. On impulse, the woman rushed across the cell to cup my jaw, the way Old Jinny used to. Then she was gone, the door wincing behind her.
I collapsed into the facade, my fists shaking and the irons clanking. If I said the princess’s name, I would shatter like glass. Nay, I would only say it when I got what I wanted.
I will find you.
I’d mouthed that promise before she turned on her horse and fled. And if the princess was anything, she was astute. She knew her jester kept his word.
I would find her. And when I did, I would claim her like I never had before.
So long as she stayed alive.
My gaze locked onto a blazing torch bracketed against the opposite wall, the flames whisking about like locks of her hair. She had to be safe. If she wasn’t, I would feel it.
6
Briar
If he was not safe, I would know it.
No matter how far, how fast, and how long I galloped from the castle, I would feel such a threat. It would consume me like a sixth sense. And if that happened, I would not be able to keep going.
