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He cranked his arm, his palm swinging across the table to her face. My vision went up in flames. A primal sound erupted from my lungs, and my serpentine reflexes kicked in.
One arm catapulted Briar behind me. My other arm lashed out, my dagger spearing through the man’s open palm before it breached the first inch. Rhys howled, the noise infantile as I twisted him into an inhuman angle and slammed his hand onto the table, pinning him there.
Blood splattered the surface. Basil and Fatima shrieked and bounded from their chairs.
My limbs tensed, ready to hurl over the furnishing so I could properly shear the flesh from Summer’s bones. But when the king made a floppy attempt to dislodge my dagger, a glass object with a needle tip appeared from nowhere and stabbed the corner of Rhys’s throat.
The king buckled, his eyes flaring wide in shock. Beside him, Jeryn calmly held a syringe against Summer’s neck.
“Contain yourself,” the prince bit out, his features inscrutable as the king collapsed, unconscious, into his chair.
As Rhys flopped forward like a rag doll, silence suffocated the room. Basil and Fatima gawked at the crimson spritzing from where my dagger impaled Rhys’s hand. Next to me, Avalea clutched Briar.
Summer’s wife merely stared in a daze. Though for a moment, her gaze swiveled my way. A surreptitious light flickered in the woman’s visage, telling me I was forgiven.
At length, Spring gawked at me and Briar. Then and there, my former sovereigns nodded, extending their gratitude for weeding out Spring’s traitors.
Finished with Rhys, I yanked out the dagger, blood gushing from the king’s wound. There was no point in cleaning up his mess. Let it smear the table and ruin my clothes as I drove the weapon into its sheath. For this was one stain I’d wear with relish.
Anyway, I’d only just begun. For this was the least I would do to him.
Until then, I bowed to Spring and Briar’s mother. Then I snarled to the king’s prone form, “As you were.”
Taking Briar’s hand, I led my princess to the doors. On our way out, Jeryn glared at us over his shoulder, that venomous look erasing whatever thanks we’d meant to show him. The prince hated what we stood for, despised aligning himself with us, and there was still no telling what the fuck he secretly planned to gain from it. He hadn’t done any of this for our sake.
Whilst exiting the shed, I met his shit-list stare with a warning one of my own.
Walking the same path back to the castle, Briar remained eerily silent. At first, I thought it was due to shock. But then she whispered, “Fashion victim.”
Glancing down, I caught the tilt of her lips before she rewarded me with a full view of that Royal smirk. Grinning wickedly, I raised her hand. With our fingers blotted by the king’s blood, I kissed her knuckles and gave her a devious wink.
38
Briar
Our triumphs accumulated. We had exposed Rhys’s criminal and treasonous actions to the Royals, which decimated his reputation amidst the Seasons and would not bode well for Summer’s relations. What compensation all of us sought from Rhys remained to be seen, to be decided upon later. In the meantime, the king had been placed under house arrest, on the public pretense of illness.
My relief lasted into the night, after the sun dove behind the beechwood forests bordering Autumn’s harvest fields. Hours after that overdue episode in the shed, I wandered through the crowds. Among the maples, booths pulsated with lantern light, and pumpkins glowed along the mulch paths. The classes mixed in celebration, decorous courtiers and jubilant tradesfolk strolling through the night market ambience.
At the glittering stalls, craftworkers sold their wood-carved wares. Bakers and millers offered warm sourdough loaves, their counters wafting with the scents of yeast and crust. Farmers exhibited fresh squash, turnips, and persimmons, which patrons would later use to prepare whatever dish they planned to contribute for the bonfire ball of Reaper’s Fest. A brewer’s stall peddled ale, mead, and hot spiced cider. While fiddlers and flutists played, guests strolled with baskets looped over their arms or lounged on the grass for eventide picnics. The world smelled of ripe apples and crisp leaves.
Revelers ignored me as I passed them, which meant the disguise was working. With my braided hair tucked beneath a felt cavalier hat, and the tiny jester diamonds tracking under my lower lashes, none of the attendants recognized my features. They strolled by, unaware of being watched.
Despite the altercation with Rhys, the identities and whereabouts of his residual cult remained obscure, their anonymity intact due to the king’s silence. My gaze scanned the passersby yet found nothing alarming about their conduct. No signs of danger. No indication any of them knew about the secret passages. Everyone ate, drank, chatted, and enjoyed the lively music as Eliot joined the performers.
From across the distance, my best friend glimpsed my outfit.Comely, he mouthed while strumming.
Hunky, I quipped, to which his smirk broadened.
Near a carpenter’s booth selling jewelry boxes, Vale, Posy, and Cadence tossed back tankards. Upon sighting me, they whistled and blew kisses, impersonating a clique of ladies beckoning a nobleman.
“Roarrr,” Vale flirted.
“Hellooo sir,” Posy cooed.
“Fancy a drink?” Cadence purred.
Lately, Cadence had been instructing the pair on how to hold and wield a knife. For this event, the trio hid their weapons beneath flouncy gowns and capes. Though apart from vigilance, their eyes gleamed, proud of the motley diamond pattern they’d applied to my eyes.
