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The longer we stared at each other, the heavier the silence grew. In the maple pasture, whilst the night watch had clamped me in irons, I’d voiced only one concern. To which the queen had assured me that Nicu was still dreaming soundly, secure in his bed with the ladies and unaware of the havoc I’d wreaked.
With that settled, I now felt free to indulge in a healthy dose of fury and sarcasm. “Evening, Your Majesty,” I drawled, flicking my fingers around the cell. “I’d offer you a chair, but they ran out.”
“If I were you,” Avalea warned, her nostrils flaring, “I would hold that silver tongue, or I shall be forced to color it red.”
“If were you, I would choose a more effective threat. I’m rather fond of that shade.”
“Have you any idea what I’ve been dealing with up there? Rhys is in an uproar. Only a miracle prevented his bellows from flooding this castle and advertising what happened. To say nothing of how the court will react tomorrow when they learn the Summer King was presumably struck by lightning and nearly burned to death. I shall have an inquisition on my hands, which will require careful orchestration to keep you out of the discussion. The residents are agitated as it is, and it shall be worse if the broader public gets wind of your killing spree.”
“I’d hardly call it a spree.”
“Tell that to the ruler of our greatest enemy nation,” she snapped. “All the while, Rhys demands no less than a hundred gallons of your blood, your head displayed on a pike, and your liver on his trophy shelf.”
“Pity he’s bluffing and won’t get what he wants. In any case, I’m astounded that he didn’t ask for my cock. Or better yet, my brain. Two valuable assets he lacks in spades.”
“Condemnation, Poet! That is beside the point!”
I leaned forward, my shadow slicing across the floor. “’Tisexactlythe point,” I snarled. “That Royal toddler is throwing a tantrum now, but it will pass. Publicizing my actions and calling for my execution won’t work to his advantage. First, bitching openly about the Court Jester flogging his ass makes Rhys look weak. Second, a beheading is too easy. He wants me to suffer slowly, and he’ll add the princess to that mix when she returns.”
Avalea swallowed, grief compromising her voice. “If she returns.”
“When,” I enunciated like the honed point of a knife. “Whenshe returns.”
The queen didn’t object, though she didn’t nod in agreement either. Not because she didn’t wish for her daughter to come home, but for another reason. One I understood well.
She agonized over Briar’s safety. With tensions rising at court, the notorious princess who’d caused such anarchy would have a target on her back. That was the reason Avalea had sanctioned the banishment in the first place, to keep her daughter out of harm’s way.
And yet. Although the queen feared getting her hopes up, she had been exhausting her efforts, searching for a safe way to bring Briar home.
The queen wasn’t the only one. I’d been doing my part alongside her. What’s more, I felt the same dilemma to the marrow of my bones.
The problem was Briar could be in just as much danger outside of the castle. No one was smarter than my thorn, but whilst she possessed intelligence and some weaponry skills, I hadn’t had time to fully train her. Though it was a minor comfort to know Eliot and Cadence had gone with Briar, I wasn’t satisfied. The thought of anyone hurting her, anyone touching her, injected my veins with boiling water.
Perceptively, Avalea watched those savage thoughts cross my features. At length, she rubbed her arms, glanced around the dank cell, and observed the open window. “You must be cold.”
“I prefer the term hot blooded.” For obvious reasons, I jutted my chin to the door, beyond which the mad languished. “However, if you’d like to worry about someone’s comfort, preoccupy yourself with them, not me. I hear that’s a Royal’s job.”
The queen stiffened. “You have some nerve.”
“I have more than that.”
“Not in my house.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”
Avalea faltered. Shame and responsibility corroded her features like acid and leached the well-fed color from her complexion.
Dammit. What I’d said had been right, but I hadn’t needed to be harsh. True enough, the Season’s bullshit reeked like in any other nation, except it was concealed under an even denser layer of excrement, which they liked to excuse by calling it charity.
My queen and princess were the exceptions, acknowledging the shortcomings of this kingdom. But with centuries of tradition and three other courts against us, we needed allies. And more than that, we needed time. Avalea and Briar had been risking their lives for our cause—for born souls—to the point where her daughter had been disinherited and evicted from the castle. Who the devil was I to ridicule this woman?
Condensation dripped from a crack in the ceiling. Indeed, it was cold here. Whereas I’d been too fueled to notice, which meant I was no less guilty than Avalea. We’d been too wrapped up in our own demons to remember those who had it far worse, who lived in a perpetual nightmare. They were the ones we meant to fight for.
Avalea sighed. “You’re here at Rhys’s private request.”
I scoffed. “He has predictable taste.”
It hardly insulted me to be placed with the mad. The greater offense was Summer’s assumption that Ishouldbe offended by present company. More than having a front-row seat to my execution—public disembowelment, slow castration, buckets of wine splashed onto my wardrobe—Rhys falsely believed entombing the Court Jester with Summer’s mad was the lowest he could bring me. Mayhap it also served as a reminder of where he thought my princess belonged.
