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“There are spies in your midst,” the princess clarified, lowering her voice so the guards wouldn’t overhear. “Summer has informants stationed within Winter’s borders.” As Jeryn’s brows stapled together, Briar seized on that rare opportunity to catch him off guard. “Rhys indicated as much to us. He has been monitoring every Season, including our own, and has been for some time.”
Whilst the information solidified in the prince’s mind, his features darkened. Even then, he didn’t blink.
But he did start moving. After trailing his eyes downward and back toward Flare’s cage, the prince broke into motion. The fur-lined coat slapped his calves, and his shadow cloaked the walls. Accelerating past us, he prowled down the corridor, silently expecting his companions to follow.
Whilst I loathed trailing in anyone’s wake, I made an exception. Taking Briar’s hand, I migrated with her from the dungeon. After too many flights of winding brick steps, and through too many passages, we emerged onto the parapet walks.
Clouds stretched over The Wandering Fields like shredded cotton. Celestials burned with white light.
Alongside Autumn sentinels, a wolf pack of Winter soldiers patrolled the vicinity, including a woman with frothy white hair and a split complexion. One half of her visage was pale, the other a lunar grey. The opulent plates of the female’s attire outranked that of her comrades, thus identifying her as the First Knight.
Collectively, the troops’ cloaks were woven of frost. And amid crossbows and blades with variously shaped tips, the soldiers’ baldrics housed throwing stars. The weapons twitched as the men and women noticed us coming, and they bowed to Jeryn with looks of deference.
Nevertheless, their prince focused on only one figure. He strode across the platform, heading toward a Winter soldier idling near the ledge. Without pausing, Jeryn unsheathed the knife affixed to his hip. And before the knight could bow, Jeryn was on the man.
The scalpel-shaped weapon punctured the warrior’s side like a blade to pudding. The knight howled, buckling to the ground whilst the prince sank with him.
Briar gasped, her palm shooting to her mouth. Seething, I whipped her against me and snaked my arm around her middle. My free hand dropped to the hilt of my dagger, and we froze whilst the prince went to work.
Bracing on his knees, with his profile devoid of remorse, Jeryn studied the man. Then he twisted the blade and leisurely cut a path through the knight’s stomach, the weapon shearing through as if the armor was made of tinfoil.
“What do you know?” Jeryn murmured calmly.
But when his victim only bellowed in pain, the prince moved the scalpel upward. Blood spurted from the knight’s mouth, crimson staining his teeth as they flashed in agony.
It became all too fucking clear. This man knew something about the spies in Winter, and the prince wasn’t merely stabbing him for information. Known for his medical prowess, Jeryn was gutting an organ from the knight’s stomach.
“Take your time,” the prince invited, digging deeper and slower. “I’m patient.”
Briar’s chest heaved in shock. I ripped my dagger from its harness.
At the same time, the Winter knight gargled one word. “Scholars.”
To which Jeryn nodded. “Much better.”
Done and done. Yet instead of releasing the man, the satanic prince made it worse. He plunged farther, globs of crimson leaking from the soldier’s gash, which expanded along with every screech of anguish.
“Stop!” Briar cried over the knight’s howls. “Stop this!”
Jeryn ignored her. He continued skewering the warrior like a side of beef, until a hint of gooey flesh poked through the crater, the makings of his spleen peeking into view.
A whistling noise rent the air. The soldier grunted, tensed, and slumped to the bricks. His visage went slack, death fogging his eyes.
A sharp object protruded from between his brows. Briar’s thorn quill had penetrated the man’s skull, ending him quickly.
My head whisked down to where her arm lowered, then swerved toward Jeryn, who turned in her direction. Like a panther, I stalked in front of the princess, my grip still on the dagger.
“Sorry about that,” I said innocently, wiggling my free fingers to demonstrate. “My hand slipped.”
In the background, a handful of Autumn guards stood immobile, their expressions ranging from haggard to petrified. By contrast, the female First Knight and her Winter brethren scrutinized the dead soldier in offense, having swiftly comprehended some type of grave infraction against their sovereign.
Jeryn, on the other hand, looked more than insulted. Pissed off might be accurate. Or rather, defensive.
Recalling how he’d cradled his pendant after Flare broke it, I beheld the same protectiveness sneaking across his countenance now. Yet it vanished too rapidly to process.
Prolonging the movements, Jeryn rose to his full height, the steel tips of his boots flashing. Blood splattered his open fur coat. Jerking his head, the prince whipped strands of hair from his face, and he regarded us like pests—cumbersome, if not lethal.
If he only knew how close I’d been to launching the dagger into his throat. Briar’s own reflexes had been what stopped me. She’d simply gotten there first, though her aim had been of the compassionate sort.
