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“Your Highness,” she broached with squared shoulders. “It has been ages. Autumn thanks you for coming.”
Unfazed by the speech, Jeryn withdrew his blade. “Come here.”
My growl hit the roof. I stepped in front of the princess, but Winter merely tossed me a vapid look whilst speaking to Avalea. “I suggest you leash your jester.”
Briar wedged herself past me. Setting a palm on my elbow, she muttered, “He won’t hurt me.”
“You intend to cure my daughter here,” Avalea balked. “Sire, we have an infirmary.”
For a split second, the prince’s mouth twitched in dark amusement, as if Autumn were just that naive. Instead of answering, he allowed his silence to speak for itself. Apparently, Winter could minister to a person anywhere.
Cementing my glare to his, I prowled farther aside for Briar to approach him. Whilst the princess stepped forward, Jeryn shifted his knife; the honed shape resembled a scalpel, only much bigger. Several slits embedded into the handle, indicating a cache of additional blades tucked within.
Thumbing the hilt’s cap, the prince unfastened some type of compartment, from which he extracted a thin, damp cloth. After wiping the blade’s edge, and then disinfecting his fingers, Jeryn instructed, “Open your mouth.”
Fuck it all, but another savage noise rushed up my throat. Though this one, I contained.
Briar complied. After stuffing the cloth back into the hilt, Jeryn angled the knife’s tip, which flashed as he used its leverage to ease her lips apart. “Slowly,” he cautioned her.
At which point, his eyes tapered and studied the composition of her mouth. That concentrated gaze seemed to penetrate Briar past her fucking tonsils. Whatever he saw, the man’s expression remained neutral—until his eyes stalled on something.
The space between Jeryn’s eyebrows creased. “A dosage this strong should have killed you quickly.”
“That was the point,” I remarked.
Almost. The prince almost rolled his eyes.
And how the fuck could he tell the dosage’s strength purely by sight? Either Winter citizens were manufactured in a laboratory rather than physically conceived, or they were descendants of warlocks, and the history books forgot to tell the rest of us.
Ignoring my statement, Jeryn reached into the inner panel of his coat and fished out a small bottle with a puckered top. Swirling the contents, his motions grew efficiently quicker. A droplet landed on Briar’s tongue, and when she swallowed, her neck illuminated like a constellation. Jeryn’s eyes probed her deeper, then he sought a particular spot on her tongue. “If you move, this will get messy.”
Swiftly, he pricked the knife’s tip into her flesh. Briar winced as blood trickled to the surface. The prince switched to another bottle and carefully administered a single bead to the place where he’d jabbed her, the black liquid smoking as it seeped into her palate.
Jeryn waited, then stored the liquid back into his coat. “Done.”
Oxygen blasted from my lungs. Avalea sighed in relief.
The spotlight radiating from Briar’s mouth faded. She inched backward and rubbed the nape of her neck. “I’m grateful for your assistance, Sire.”
“Careful speaking too soon,” Jeryn replied, shoving the knife into its sheath and again omitting Briar’s rank. “Winter is here to correct your mistake, not seek your gratitude.” He gave the princess a candid look. “Make sure the error doesn’t happen again.”
How rapidly moods changed. He’d given us all of three seconds to appreciate him before fucking up.
Avalea uttered something to the prince, her tone reproachful. Though with my eardrums pounding, I failed to catch the queen’s reply. The man was implying that whilst Briar would survive the allergy poisoning, it wouldn’t have happened if she’d been vigilant. And because her presumed incompetence had forced Winter here, Jeryn wouldn’t be so generous with his assistance a second time.
My words grew teeth. “If I’m not mistaken, Winter is supposed to be a nation of wisdom. You might want to exercise that intelligence before I’m tempted to respond in a visceral way.”
Annoyance flickered across Jeryn’s features, there and gone before I could commit the phenomenon to memory and use it later to bribe him. “And if I’m not mistaken,” he replied, “you’re a jester who should have left the room a while ago.”
“Aww. I hate to break it to you, but that won’t stop you from thinking about me.”
His eyes thinned. “I’ll put it a simpler way. This is a meeting of Royals.”
“Then do your intestines a favor and acknowledge every Royal present.”
So much for not engaging. The man stalked three steps forward. “I’d advise you to proceed with caution, licensed fool. I can easily reverse the effects of my remedy, to an excruciating degree.” He canted his head, a callous light banking in his pupils, as if he got off on the concept of torture. “Would you care to witness the essence of true pain?”
I sauntered up to the prince, halting inches from him. “You’ll need to give a more creative answer than that.”
