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Various hues of brown and taupe outfitted the suite, from the foliage wallpaper to the velvet pillows. Sage green accents lent a bit of softness to the space. Mounted above the chunky, heavily carved fireplace mantel was an oil painting of a copper fox amid brilliant trees.
I stared at the artwork for a long time. “I’m aware of how much Winter values test subjects. But are born souls so valuable that Jeryn would choose experimentation over letting an anarchistic princess die? Or does he not take threat of our campaign seriously?”
“Perhaps both,” came Mother’s voice from beside me. “The prince is candid to an astringent degree, yet he is not known to explain himself. He is methodical in a way that would impress Poet, if the jester didn’t rightly despise him. But if there’s a greater reason why Jeryn accepted this transaction, none of us will discover it. What Winter doesn’t want you to know, you won’t.”
A sad smile coaxed my lips upward. “You are forgetting who I’m bonded with.”
I swerved from the painting and found Mother struggling to muster a grin. In truth, I would have abstained from receiving Jeryn’s medical help, had I known the cost. Yet I would never express that to Mother or Poet, because I knew what they’d say.
“We must prevent him,” I pushed instead.
Mother shook her head. “The contract is binding, and we cannot afford to offend Winter. Silvia and Doria are not the issue, but their heir is another matter. If you think Rhys is a problem, you don’t want to make an enemy of Jeryn.”
Try as I might, I could not keep the scathing tone from my voice. “Yes, I remember his last visit quite well. It appears he has not changed.”
“He will find a means to sway his grandaunts without them realizing it,” Avalea cautioned. “In turn, you might end up condemning this nation, including every other born soul—including Nicu—for the sake of nineteen.”
“But there must be some way out of it.”
Yet again, anxiety dominated Mother’s countenance. “Hear me out,” she prompted, her inflection strained as if prying the speech from her ribcage. “This is your choice, but hear me out.”
My choice. The way she’d emphasized that. Based on The Dark Seasons’ history of negotiation between Royals and noble families, I knew where she was going. I’d been bred to know it. Nonetheless, Mother and Father had never been the types to consider it—unless they became desperate.
Venom coated my response. “I won’t do it,” I seethed, enunciating every word. “I willneverdo it.”
“I’ve not given you the details yet,” she implored as I launched from the seat and marched to the fireplace. “Briar, please. Don’t turn away.”
At the mantel, I whipped toward her. “Do I look like a whore and a bigot?” With each word, my octave escalated to a high-pitched shriek. “Or are you seriously, earnestly, morally suggesting a marriage of convenience to that vilefucking monster?”
“Of course not!” Mother swore, rising from the settee and pressing her palms together as though in prayer. “I would sooner sell myself than see you eternally pledged to that man. I’m not implying marriage; I’m talking about a false engagement. A passing deception.”
“I am taken,” I reminded her, tormented and refusing to believe she’d forgotten that. “I am in love. I am already engaged.”
Poet and I had been waiting for a peaceful time to tell her. Instantly, Mother’s expression transformed, shifting from anguish to tenderness. Blessedly, her elated features eased the pressure on my chest. She loved Poet and Nicu like her own flesh and blood.
“Oh, my dear,” she said, rushing to me and clasping my face.
But when a flash of resignation betrayed her features shortly thereafter, I inched backward. “No one else exists for me but Poet. What you’re laying out is impossible,” I stressed. “I couldn’t begin to pretend—”
“For the public,” she clarified. “Only for the public’s eyes would you pretend.”
“Why?” I clipped. “Why would you entertain this?”
“It would be temporary. It’s a means to pacify our nation before the tension amounts to bloodshed. Look what’s already happened.” Mother’s voice steadied. “You know what’s required to lead, the sacrifices a ruler must make, the struggle to balance our duties as monarchs with our principles as human beings. The latter doesn’t always find an equilibrium. Most often, they’re conflicted, where we must choose between doing the right thing, the loving thing, and the smart thing. Passions don’t always outweigh protection.”
She was not telling me anything I didn’t already know. Not that it mattered when I had made a vow. I’d chosen my jester, willing to face this continent in defense of our union because it was worth it.
Interpreting the look on my face, Mother heaved a breath. “A courtship, then,” she advocated. “If not an engagement, a courtship.”
“I’ve already been declared mad,” I argued. “This would also portray me as indecisive.”
“It will prove you’re putting the kingdom first over your desire,” she countered, lowering her voice because the guards were outside. “The prince will break it off.”
“Poet and I are working to prove our strength as a couple. This will negate the headway we’ve regained amid the ranks.”
“Or the people will see you in a more hopeful light, and they will trust you and Poet again, even after Winter ends the charade. I suspect the prince will agree to this stunt, provided we bargain well. Not people this time,” she said when I opened my mouth. “But we’ll offer him a vast extent of our natural resources. Winter has been hankering for those damn apples you used against the Masters. Apparently, they make viable ingredients for medical research, and we’ve never traded them before.”
“Mother! To stake Winter’s reputation like this, crops will not suffice. Youknowit won’t.” I pointed to the floor, my finger stabbing the air. “I do not agree with this. Neither will Poet. He’ll slit Winter’s throat before that fiend gets within twenty feet of me.”
