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Bliss. Hope. Joy.
Fury. Passion.
Love.
My chest jolted from the impact, as though she hurled those same emotions back at me.
There was my lightness and darkness. There was my sunset and my storm.
Heat swirled up my throat, and speech abandoned me, my tongue useless. For no words could do this moment justice.
Right then, she owned my pulse, my blood, and my breath. We stared and stared and fucking stared. I couldn’t have looked away if the castle had crumbled to the ground.
Firelight blasted through the library, shattering the spell. We blinked, our gazes tearing apart as the room fell silent, all eyes on us.
Eliot stood motionless with his lute, gazing our way in wonder and pride. The ladies simpered, silently gushing as if they were about to collapse in a romantic fit. Over her shoulder, Avalea’s wistful expression lingered on me and Briar. And Jeryn frowned, dubious and unnerved by whatever he saw between us.
How long ago had Eliot quit playing? When had the courtiers stopped applauding?
At some point, they must have heard Briar and me whispering, translating the story. They had witnessed our trance. And whilst we’d agreed not to flaunt our bond, it became abundantly clear. The harder this rule became, the more people saw through us. In the dim lighting, amidst a riveting performance, we hadn’t held back a fucking thing.
Briar straightened, red flags of color surging across her cheeks. It took me longer to recover from the daze, too long for me to muster a clever remark and distract the room.
So the ladies did it for us. They sprang to their feet, clapped their hands, and whistled at Eliot. And whilst the display was more Spring than Autumn, it worked. The audience broke from their stupor and applauded the minstrel, who bowed and did his best to keep the attention off us.
During the cacophony, Aire appeared beside the dais. Bending forward, he muttered to me and Briar, “A hawk landed at the gate with urgent tidings. Summer is arriving early for Reaper’s Fest.”
Overhearing that, Avalea and Jeryn swerved toward the knight. Meanwhile, Briar stiffened. We had banked on Rhys coming, as well as Basil and Fatima from Spring. But how this visit would turn out, what happened during the fest, and who survived remained to be seen.
I spoke through my teeth, giving voice to everyone’s unspoken question. “How early?”
Aire flattened his lips. “Tomorrow.”
35
Briar
Sunset poured muted light onto the maple pasture. Fauna grazed amid the hulking trees, copper and red foxes traipsing across the grass, their titian irises glinting. Cows, mares, and stallions did the same, bowing their heads and nibbling from the earth.
Often, we took Nicu here at this time of day. He loved this picturesque hour, when the clouds yielded his favorite color. Shades of happy orange glazed every leaf and wheat stalk, and typically the fauna would flock to him. Poet’s son had a remarkable way with the creatures of this world, his presence luring them.
In Autumn, the greater fox population dwelled with their keepers in The Fox Dell, deep in the outer wilderness. But some dens lived on the castle grounds. So when the resident foxes saw me, their ears perked in expectation. I shook my head as if they would understand. Nicu had not accompanied us this afternoon.
Instead, Eliot and my ladies were entertaining him while Poet and I strode to one of the makeshift buildings that had been erected for this evening’s revels. Throughout the pasture, dining sheds and shopping booths were scattered across the grass, with winding mulch paths and glowing pumpkins leading to each building. Traditionally, Autumn hosted a night market two days before Reaper’s Fest, replete with all the wonders of this kingdom. Poet’s son would adore the mystical ambience, but whether he would have the chance to attend depended on the next hour.
The notion spiked my blood with vitriol. Yet I remained quiet, my boots crunching the mulch while Poet made enough noise for the two of us.
“Nuisance of a motherfucker,” he hissed, charging down the lane while clutching my hand. “’Tis adding insult to injury. His existence is tiresome enough, but by making a consistent habit of showing up unannounced, he might as well beg me to pick up where I left off the last time that I saw him. Only for this victory lap, I’ll garnish the man’s ashes on my dessert plate, with a side helping of his balls, fresh from the grill spit.”
At last, I spoke. “You must calm down.”
“Iamcalm!”
“That is not calm. That is self-destructive.”
The jester halted, whipped toward me, and snarled, “He traded for Nicu in Spring. He blackmailed us in Autumn. He turned the Masters against you. He deemed you mad in front of the court. He had you dethroned and banished. He was sniffing out the castle’s passages. He recruited a new cult of pissants and ordered them to poison you. He had them massacre a born soul in protest to your reign.
“And now he’s here, forty-eight hours in advance, polluting the court with his bigoted stench, his shitty taste in clothes, and his vendetta. Alas for him, I don’t take kindly to someone who targets my princess whilst also forgetting to arrive fashionably late. So tell me again to calm the fuck down.”
