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“It’s our seduction,” I corrected.
“Coercion,” Briar amended prudently.
“Whatever.” I fluttered my fingers. “Attending the festivities would make a statement and illustrate a show of support. It would tell this kingdom Winter endorses Autumn, its choices, and its sovereigns, including the magnificent creature in our midst. In case you didn’t notice, she’s the angel on your left, and I’m the devil on your right.”
The prince merely grunted, as though he found both archetypes not only ludicrous but insufficient to describe us.
“Autumn hosts two events prior to the holiday,” Briar explained, the moon’s cast accentuating the chains of her gown. “Both will culminate in the bonfire ball for Reaper’s Fest. Attend all three celebrations as our guest. In this way, you will pretend to support us.”
Jeryn’s gaze narrowed, the better to see in the dark. “Winter has never accepted a social invitation from any Season.”
“Queens Silvia and Doria have accepted invitations before,” Briar rebutted. “But the heir to Winter’s throne has not.”
“Do so now,” I campaigned. “Acknowledge and engage with us. That alone will sway the public in our favor and help tame the rising tension across Autumn.”
“Spring and Summer will attend Reaper’s Fest,” the princess supplied. “By then, your camaraderie with us will be an established fact, and His Majesty shall witness it for himself.”
The night of the courtyard battle, Rhys had feigned a change of heart and declared he wouldn’t attend Reaper’s Fest. In short, the bitch had been lying; he would show up. Oblivious, the king would emerge from his carriage only to discover Winter on our side.
As the future monarch of the continent’s most withdrawn nation, a gesture of cooperation from Jeryn wouldn’t be taken lightly. That alone could dissuade Rhys from being a nuisance on Reaper’s Fest. Neither he, nor his peons would think to call the bluff.
Nevertheless, this hoax wasn’t as easy as it sounded. How frequently people forgot that wars weren’t merely fought on battlefields. Some of the deadliest ones took place in ballrooms and throne rooms, with a lash of one’s tongue rather than a sword. Masquerading as collaborators would require regality, clever wit, and scare tactics. The grace of a princess, the cunning of a jester, and the candidness of a prince might be the right combination to succeed.
If it worked, chickenshit Rhys would stand down. At least long enough for us to prove he’d colluded with the Masters—to the point of endangering any Autumn citizens who got in their way—and plotted Briar’s disinheritance. For that, we’d need more time. Until then, this ploy with Winter would keep my least favorite mongrel on a leash.
Jeryn considered our strategy, one blood-stained hand gripping a merlon, the other wedged into the pocket of his pants. His attention slid to the courtyard, where the Masters had been slaughtered among numerous Autumn knights. There, Summer had declared Briar mad.
Only the towering maple remained now, its trunk rising high. The dome of resplendent leaves reached this level, the branch’s lambent colors reminiscent of plumage. At the tree’s base, a resident copper fox traipsed across the bricks.
By now, Winter’s silence could only mean one thing. If not, he would have said no.
At last, Jeryn addressed the courtyard. “I have a condition.”
Splendid. Now for the dubious part.
Briar braced herself. “Name your price. Apart from our family and additional captives, of course.”
Here, I whittled my gaze at the prince. From this vantage point, the sharp architecture of his profile illustrated no vested interest. Impressively, his features were a blank canvas. That aside, he knew my eyes were searching for a crawl space through which to penetrate his thoughts, to unravel whatever weakness lurked beneath the surface.
By Seasons. This man was good at freezing people out.
Then he replied. “That little beast with the eyes.”
Briar and I tensed. I straightened from the crenelations, and the princess clasped her hands tightly.
Flare. The woman who’d likely sealed her fate by testing Winter’s patience.
“I want her locked separately,” the prince said in a low register.
My jaw clenched. He was asking us to place Flare in solitary confinement. Essentially, a dealbreaker.
My tongue was prepared to strike when Briar snapped, “We will do no such thing. As I said before, she still resides on Autumn soil.”
“Yet the little beast belongs to me,” Jeryn replied smoothly.
“Stop calling her that! She’s a kind and passionate soul.”
A growl scrolled from my lungs. “If you go near her, I’ll make you remember it.”
