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The Masters may have constructed this nation. The council may supervise it. The Crown may lead and represent it. But these soldiers protected Autumn, defended it with their lives. Their blood had watered the soil for generations. How could I not yearn for their acceptance first and foremost?
If this had been Spring, Summer, or Winter, perhaps my display wouldn’t have sufficed. But this was Autumn. Benevolent and charitable. Although the crowd hedged, they also listened.
I kept my head aloft. “Beloved Autumn. I have returned with the promise of loyalty and the hope of your forgiveness. I place no hierarchy on my people and never have.Everycitizen is equal in my eyes, and while you may not approve, I swear to you.” Setting a palm to my breast, I let my voice take flight. “As Autumn is my blood, I will defend this kingdom and serve this court as I always have—with care and dedication. The harvest fields have let me pass. Your First Knight has spoken. Now it’s up to you. I’m at your behest and humbly beg your allegiance.”
Morally constructed. Properly addressed. Respectfully delivered.
But not enough. I saw it in their creased expressions and furrowed brows. The soldiers would not be easily won with a formal speech.
My gaze flickered to Poet, who bowed his head a fraction.Words are stronger than weapons. Bewitch them, Highness.
I paraphrased under my breath, quoting the jester from a Spring day long ago, in a secluded cottage when we finally stopped being enemies. “Fools believe glory can be found at the tip of a sword, rather than the tip of one’s tongue.”
Yes. That.
Thus, I sank to my knees. The genuflection received an instant response, stunned noises rising from under the knights’ breaths. No Royal of lineage and breeding had ever prostrated themselves for their army. Yet I had never claimed to be a superior being, and I would never consider myself one.
I was not merely a princess of tradition. I was a princess of the people.
Fate had brought me into this life. But my actions permitted me to stay in it.
Bloodlines had granted me a throne. However, I would not sit back and reap the rewards like an entitlement. Always, I sought to earn what I had, because the citizens gave me that honor.
Autumn did not belong to me. I belonged to Autumn.
And above all, this kingdom valued honesty.
It grew so quiet one could hear a length of straw hit the ground. The blood-soaked grass swayed in the breeze, fog girdled the castle towers, the great maples rose to the same heights, and the distant fields shone beneath the star-flecked sky.
With one wrist shackled and the other free, I drew words from a deeply buried place. One by one, my eyes trained on every face, starting with Poet. “I treasure you,” I said, my voice as raw as an open wound.
Glimpsing my friends and the knights, I continued. My words grew muscle and a heartbeat. “We are not very different. We have our loves, our fears, and our doubts. Many days, I was frightened to be a ruler. Other times, I felt humbled. And other days—” I grinned sadly, “—other days, I was grateful. Not for my throne, its power, or its riches. The privilege came from serving Autumn’s majestic trees, its roaming fauna, and its misty skies.
“I’ve farmed and harvested among you not to validate myself, but to give myself to this land, to nurture it, as it nurtures us.” My throat swelled, yet my voice steadied as I spoke to each warrior. “I can recite the lore from memory, identify every seed and crop, and navigate these roads without a map.” I thought of the oak leaves strewn in my hair, a blessing from The Lost Treehouses. “But only in my absence have I fully bonded with this land, and it has embraced me in kind. The Autumn wild has taught me how little I know and how much there is yet to learn.”
The manacles clanked from my arm. “I am not perfect, but I am genuine. I have made mistakes, and it won’t be the last time, which terrifies me. Yet if Autumn is a nation of honesty, then I return to you stripped, exposed, and at your behest. More than a sovereign, I am your servant.”
Finally, my gaze circled back to Poet. Eternally, it began and ended with him.
“I will always do what I believe is right for this Season and for you. If you trust that, stand with me.”
The jester’s mouth tipped upward, and his lips moved.Bravo.
My own mouth cracked into a tired grin, which collapsed as Aire stepped forward. The man punched his fist to his chest and kneeled before the dais. And then it happened.
A female soldier followed in his wake, aligning herself with the First Knight. Then came another, and another, and another. In succession, the soldiers lowered themselves, with their attention fixed on me. Murmurs filtered across the troops, building like a wave. “Your Highness,” they chorused at intervals, the words hushed but earnest.
Aire’s head slanted my way. “Rise, Princess. Be our champion.”
Tears breached the corners of my eyes. Slowly and hazily, I gained my feet, the chains clunking from my wrist. My attention stumbled across the lawn, privately thanking every face. Then I blinked, realizing more knights and troops had joined them, flooding the lawn to capacity. At some point, the entire army had turned up to hear my speech.
Not only that, but additional witnesses had arrived. Several slack-jawed members of the court and council idled on the fringes.
I gawked at the congregation, immobile despite the sound of keys jangling. Someone approached my periphery. The iron shackles at my wrist shuddered, broke open, and struck the dais. At the sound, I twisted to find Poet standing beside me, the key in his grip. He must have accepted it from one of the soldiers.
Pinning our gazes together, the jester flippantly tossed the key over his shoulder, reverence and admiration glinting in his irises. Yet at once, his attention jumped across the lawn and landed on something behind me. Instantly, those pupils exploded with light.
I veered in that direction, my gaze stumbling across a pair of figures who watched from the sideline. At once, my breath caught. The world vanished, and my pulse thudded loudly in my ears.
