Dare (Dark Seasons: Foolish Kingdoms #4)

1

Flare

Kingdom of Autumn. On the night of the Reaper’s Fest riot.

In most stories, the villain wore a black cloak and lived in the shadows like a ghost. But in my story, the villain wore a crown and ruled the world.

Tucked behind an overturned wagon sizzling with smoke, I grasped the wheel and peeked into the market square, my gaze searching for him. Yet blessedly, the enemy was nowhere in sight amid the chaos.

Pitched roofs crackled with flames, the blazes chewing on merchant shops, forges and smithies, and homes decorated with glowing pumpkins. Scattered amidst the cobbled streets, bonfires spat embers, which danced like fireflies across an eventide sky.

Tonight, the Autumn Court burned. Its annual revels had turned into a nightmare, a riot of blood and rage in what used to be the most peaceful of kingdoms. The people had lashed out, turning against one another—because of people like me.

Because they called us fools. Because they wanted to keep us as their property, their entertainment, and their slaves. Because this world hated our kind. Because they believed us to be cursed errors of nature.

Most thought so, but not all. Some defended us.

I riveted my gaze on two figures rising from the ashes like phoenixes. The woman’s red locks shone brighter than an inferno, with a rose planted in her hair and her singed black dress fluttering in the wind. Beside her stood a man with the greenest eyes I’d ever beheld, the wicked irises as verdant as clovers. The jester’s pupils darkened with intent, protectiveness and fury flashing in those kohl-lined eyes.

Poet. Briar.

Jester. Princess.

Together, the continent’s most notorious pair strode from the largest bonfire. As one, they stepped from the womb of a blaze that had been constructed to roast the princess alive, in protest of her compassion for born souls, her crusade for their freedom, and her love for the man beside her. But like an indestructible force, the couple materialized, untouched by the flames.

Gasps erupted from the crowd, and the same awed breath fell from my lips. My voice had died long ago, but while I couldn’t speak, I had the enchanting ability to hear myself privately. In my mind, every sound and tone of voice—a whisper, a scream, a laugh, a growl, a sigh—resounded clearly, as if they came out aloud. Somehow, it had always been this way.

Though, no one else could hear these noises. I didn’t know why. But at least, that would make it easier to flee, to escape before someone caught me.

Hidden from view, I watched the princess and jester make history. Surrounded by bruised nobles, battered tradesfolk, and bloody soldiers, Poet and Briar knelt. They spoke to the crowd, inspiring their rapt audience to bow in remorse and chant in reverence. And so, the duo won back their nation.

That was also how they toppled a king. I watched that too. Saw Poet run his knife across Rhys’s body, saw Briar restrain her lover, saw them force the fiendish king to his knees, and saw them shackle him to the same timbers where Briar had been ensnared. They didn’t burn the Summer King, but they did break him.

At the sight of his humiliation, a stone’s weight dropped from my chest. Nine years of sorrow and fear buckled my limbs. Finally, that monarch learned how it felt to be scorned, to be treated like he was worthless.

To be treated like me.

My fingers traced the collar tattoo branded around my neck. I tilted my head, marveling at the scene, at the rioters who joined the jester and princess, everyone uniting to staunch the flames and sweep up the debris. The Royals of Spring, the Queen of Summer, and the reigning pair of Autumn worked among their subjects.

But one Season was missing.

Dread chilled my stomach. I scanned the crowd for a towering masculine frame outfitted in a fur coat and steel-tipped boots. It would be easy to spot his long, cold blue hair and those glacial irises. Yet I failed to locate that murky silhouette.

He would be looking for me. If not now, then soon. But if he knew I was here, I didn’t feel it. My skin would have prickled the moment his eyes seized on me. It happened every time, like an ominous sixth sense.

Three ladies rushed to the princess’s side, snatching her in a hug while tears sprang to their eyes. Next, a man with blond stubble hauled Briar against his broad frame. After that, a knight with eyes the shade of a twilit sky embraced her, then clasped Poet’s hand in a gesture of relief. As one, the group formed a circle and crushed themselves together.

My heart squeezed, longing swelled in my throat, and a hundred wishes flooded my soul. How I wished to be a member of their clan, to be a part of their mission, to be one of them, to be included. To have that same freedom.

Their fight was my fight, but my fate wasn’t their fate. I’d have to carve a path forward on my own. And I would have to do it now, far from here.

If not, he would find me.

Beyond the town, Autumn’s castle rose like a snuffed candle. Among soaring maple trees, the fortress’s unlit windows reflected the constellations. An hour ago, I’d been locked in there, trapped in a cage and awaiting a gruesome fate. Now I stood on the threshold of escape. Yet I could not move, would not move.

Poet and Briar had saved me from that cage. So even after they’d let me go, even after we had parted ways, I’d stayed behind to untie Briar from the bonfire, to rescue her the way she’d rescued me, to make sure she and Poet were safe.

The jester and princess grabbed one another. Their arms entwined, their gazes fused, and their mouths collided in a feverish kiss.

My lips curved into a smile. Finally, it was time to save myself.

I gazed at the pair through watery eyes. “Friends,” I whispered, the word as light as a feather.

My friends. Someday, I would see them again.

Creeping from my hiding spot, I darted into the shadows. My bare feet slapped the cobblestones, skirting around toasted chunks of wood, smoldering ale barrels, and chips of broken glass. I sprinted faster, heeding Briar’s urgent words.

He will find you.

If you stay, he will find you.

The Summer King wasn’t the monarch I needed to worry about. He wasn’t the ruler I needed to flee from. He wasn’t the enemy I needed to fear.

Not anymore. Because he wasn’t the predator hunting for me.

Dashing around market stalls, I swiped an apple and a blackened loaf of bread from the ground. Rounding a corner, I skidded in place, my gaze tripping across a shop window. Golden eyes shone in its reflection, and a picture of shocked features gazed back. Sweat and soot coated the woman’s deep olive face, starvation hollowed her cheeks, and dryness chapped her lips as if they were made of bark.

Me. That was me.

My shaky fingers traced every facet. I hadn’t seen my reflection in nine years. Banked in the firelight, the vision knocked me off balance. A bereft cry slipped across my tongue, as raw as a wound, the noise inaudible to anyone else but me.

Next, my gaze stumbled to the neck tattoo. The collar of black sunbursts wrapped around my throat, the ink permanent and the punishment eternal.

Outrage sparked like cinders across my fingers. The fragile noise I had unleashed now hardened into a growl.

No one owned me. Especially not him .

I veered from my reflection and bolted out of town. Whereas pacing from one end of a space to the other had become second nature, moving this far without hitting a barrier—no jail bars or four solid walls to block my progress—felt like walking toward the edge of the world. Soon, I might fall off.

I might, were it not for Briar’s directions. Her voice played in my head, propelling me forward.

Take the adjacent alley until you reach the beech forest, then head northwest. Eventually, you’ll reach a creek. It will split into four directions and take you wherever on the continent you wish to go.

The dagger Poet had given me thumped against my waist, its fancy hilt tethered with a length of rope. I would find a sheath later. But for now, the cord would hold. My callused fingers knew plenty about tying hearty knots, and flames had never scared me, which was why I’d been able to release the princess from the blaze. With Summer flowing through my blood, I could handle fire.

Ice was a different matter. A different monster.

Run, I told myself. Fast, I urged myself.

Never look back.

Briar’s whisper swept through my mind as I vaulted from the lower town, then down the brick road between the harvest fields. With the castle suffering a blackout but the riot coming to an end, the night watch and parapet sentinels had resumed their posts. Nonetheless, my small frame helped to avoid detection. And blessedly, I had grown used to the darkness long ago. Living in a dungeon had gifted my sight with a nocturnal sharpness, like a sea creature at the bottom of an abyss.

Pumping my arms and legs, I sprinted up the hill and into a woodland laced with gilded leaves. I smashed through the bushes, threads of air sawing through my lungs, my side wincing in pain.

Amid the exposed roots of a tree trunk, I hunkered to the ground and sucked in blasts of oxygen. Dirt caked my feet, and one of my ankles leaked crimson from a tumbleweed that had scraped my flesh. My chest heaved as I waited for the stitches to ebb.

Once they did, I fished out the apple and bread loaf, the succulent aromas weakening my knees. My teeth ripped into the booty, the sweet and yeasty flavors overpowering my senses. Poet and Briar had fed me well, but still. The hunger never waned.

Juice from the apple wetted my tongue. The taste wrought a grateful sob from me, and I gobbled those treasures to the last bite. With a sigh, I wiped my arm across my mouth and dragged myself off the ground.

The hectic flight from the castle with Poet and Briar had distracted me. Then the lower town’s riot overwhelmed me. But with no one around, I stumbled forward in a daze. Craning my head, I blinked—and saw the sky.

So much sky. Beyond the branches, a crescent moon slashed through the heavens like a scythe, its brightness hurting my eyes, agonizing yet blissful. Celestials sparkled like divinities, their brilliance another shock to my vision. It had been eons since I’d seen the firmament this way; I feared it might be a mirage or a cruel trick of light.

Ravenous to see color, color, color, I stretched my trembling arm toward the mural of stars, my quaking fingers sketching them like one of my drawings. My chin wobbled, my lips peeled back into a grin, and two droplets leaked from the corners of my eyes.

Beneath the constellations, tree silhouettes reminded me of …

They looked so much like …

A place I’d never been. A place I longed to find someday. A place out there, waiting for me.

An icy breeze cut short my joy. I lowered my hand and rubbed my arms while contemplating the journey ahead. My moth-eaten shirt and grain-sack hose cut off at the thighs did little to combat the chill. Hellfire, I should have stolen a cloak and looted the cobbler’s shop on my way from town.

Strange fragrances wafted from the soil. The earthen aromas smelled nothing like Summer, where one could taste salt in the air.

Foreign sounds pushed through the foliage. Hoots. Snorts. My gaze leaped around, unable to soak up a single noise for too long. I twisted toward every crunch of dry leaves and each fauna call, whirling this way and that while grasping Poet’s dagger. Half-fearful, half-enchanted, I consumed this world with famished eyes.

Briar had said to go northwest. Gauging this without a compass might be rough for some fugitives, but once upon a time, I’d led a seafaring life. At least, until the monarchy had chained me.

Pretending to stand on the deck of a boat, I contemplated the stars’ locations, then forged ahead. Seconds passed. Countless minutes passed. I alternated between jogging and picking around uneven terrain, my unshod toes freezing. At last, a babble of water flowed through my ears. I hastened toward the sound, clouds of air steaming from my lips.

The creek Briar had mentioned snaked through the undergrowth, flowing between toadstools and hedges. My steps slowed. As trenches of glistening water split into four directions, I understood what she meant. This intersection must lead to each Season, which explained why one of the rivulets trickled back the way I’d come. As for the other three …

Spring. Summer. Winter.

I grimaced. Anything was better than Winter. Imprisoned or not, everyone knew the gruesome things scientists did to born souls there.

The gruesome things he did to them.

Leaves the color of brass gleamed. Some rained from the branches and bobbed on the creek’s surface like a fleet of ships. My gaze landed in one direction, the flux pouring toward freedom. With hope fluttering its wings inside me, I moved toward my path.

Then I stalled. The nape of my neck heated like a bad omen. And then came the telltale prickle across my scalp.

I knew one other thing about the darkness. I knew when someone else occupied it. And now I understood why I hadn’t seen him among the other Royals.

He’d already been searching for me.

My lashes lowered. I skated my gaze across the undergrowth, where a spider wove its net through a bramble. Feigning preoccupation with the creature, I strolled forward—then whirled with my dagger braced.

On a growl, I twisted his way. At the same time, his hand snatched my hip like an iron band and hauled me forward. My breasts slammed into a male torso hewn from stone, my blade’s tip thrust in his direction, and his own knife sliced forward, our weapons stabbing the air between us. Like that, we froze.

And then my eyes collided with a pair of icy irises.