8 #2
My pulse drummed, the reaction unaccountable. Aspen strutted into the room, the cloak swishing around her curves, the axe at her hip reflecting every lick of fire from the hearth. By estimation, she should have arrived long before I did, given how she left me sprawled like a drunken bear.
“Hmm,” Poet contemplated. “Fashionably late, for once.”
Aspen mustered a grin. “Rest easy. You still wear it better.”
“Who said I was worried?”
“You didn’t have to say it, Papa,” Nicu quipped.
The jester nudged his son. “Cheeky offspring.”
“I learn from the best.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Aspen professed with the utmost sincerity, weathering Jeryn’s arctic stare with more endurance than every warrior on this continent. “I don’t have an excuse. But I do have a reason.”
“Do I look like I want either?” the Winter King inquired.
“She’s on time more often than us,” Flare pointed out, a teasing light in her eyes that accomplished what no other mortal could with this monarch.
Jeryn’s gaze simmered on Flare. “Only because you distract me.”
“You like the distraction,” she hinted. “And you like how long it lasts.”
“Alas,” Poet couldn’t resist. “Not long enough for him to miss the roundtables entirely.”
Irritated, Winter chopped the indifferent jester to cubes with his eyes.
Used to this sort of exchange, Aspen soldiered on. “My reason is valid. Do you want the short or long version?”
“How about the honest one?” I griped. “If you can manage that.”
Her body tensed, going as rigid as a pole. The reaction went to my head like a prohibited stimulant, unforgivable anticipation overwhelming any shred of decorum. I armed myself as the female wrenched her gaze in my direction, those eyes flashing like a pair of anise stars.
Weathering her stare, I found myself plagued by an agitating form of unrest. One I had never felt in her company. More confounding, an indefensible itch crawled up my fingers—the urge to rip that hood from her face and view those irises up close.
My request must have hit a fragile nerve. Because for some reason, she winced.
Not what I had expected from this audacious female. Yet before I had a chance to atone for my ill-bred outburst, she bridled her reaction.
In its place, rivalry thickened the woman’s voice like syrup. “Oh, apologies,” she demurred. “I didn’t see you standing there. It must have been the invisible high horse that got in the way.”
My nostrils flared. “Curb your tongue in the presence of Royalty.”
“Sorry to break this to you, but my tongue does what it wants.”
“In which case, I have a mind to cut out that appendage. Once and for all.”
“And end all these stimulating conversations?”
I fisted the back of a chair, exerting enough pressure to crack the mahogany. But when the fuck had I moved toward the furnishing in the first place? And when had I forgotten the other occupants of the room?
Our company fell silent. Poet and Jeryn narrowed their perceptive eyes. Briar and Flare whipped their heads from me to Aspen, their gazes equally discerning while Nicu’s pupils bloated in surprise.
I could not blame them, for I sneered and picked fights as often as I verbalized obscenities. Yet on all accounts, I’d been demonstrating the opposite since the moment I set foot back in this castle.
“Do you want the short or long version?”
“How about the honest one?”
Seasons. I regretted those reprehensible words the instant they barked out of my mouth.
I hadn’t meant to sound harsh, much less condescending, elitist, or superior.
True, this woman twisted lies as expertly as Flare twisted knots of Summer rope.
And while that hardly warranted the vitriol stalking across my tongue, I couldn’t stop picturing her sparring with that unqualified soldier.
Again, however much I relished seeing my brethren celebrate Aspen, her pubescent companion was another matter.
All mouth and no muscle, the braggart could not hold a candle to her prowess.
But for some atrocious reason, she favored that upstart’s company.
Before this duel progressed, Briar stepped between us. “Never mind,” she buffered. “You’re here now.”
Graciously done. Like a future queen.
I removed the scabbards, taking the liberty to reorient myself. As we settled around the table, I intended to apologize for causing a scene, but Briar waved off the attempt. ”It’s fine,” she murmured.
Though, her husband sauntered close and arched a diabolical eyebrow. “Does your wrist need a timeout?”
Curse him. Like gospel, this man held to a belief that feuding was an aphrodisiac. I glowered while turning crimson, which only deepened the bastard’s grin.
Briar planted a loving kiss on Nicu’s head, then pointed to his seat, the ferret familiar having returned to his shoulders, the animal presently dozing.
Poet sprawled next to his wife, his fingers twining through locks of red hair, the princess’s throat pumping in response.
Likewise, I beheld the same blaze crackling between Jeryn and Flare as they lowered themselves beside one another, the king’s hand fastening to his lady’s thigh.
Feverish devotion exuded from these couples, the unbreakable bonds easy to decipher, regardless of my abilities.
My eyes flitted toward Aspen, who turned away. True enough, I deserved the slight.
The roundtable commenced. Briar made the necessary excuses.
Her mother, Queen Avalea, would have attended were she not embarking on a routine inspection of the outlying villages where born souls were being medically treated.
As for Eliot, Cadence, Posy, and Vale, they were due to return this eventide from their latest voyage to Spring, where they’d been serving as ambassadors of Autumn.
Merlot and cider flowed. Steaming platters of game, golden beets, and prunes accompanied conversation and camaraderie. Briar, Jeryn, and Aspen conversed with one another. Nicu and Poet behaved like partners in crime, the father-son duo’s conspiratorial banter bouncing off one another.
The sight produced another wistful clench in my ribs, so that I traced one of the raptor tattoos flapping its wings across my forearm. In my sideline, Aspen peeked before veering her attention back to the princess and king.
Flare and Nicu plied me with questions about the Autumn lands outside this castle.
The young man’s irises sparkled with interest. More than that, his soul brimmed with the type of yearning that often characterized a person his age.
Except Nicu’s longing transmitted stronger, more impulsive vibes, which rose the hairs along my arms.
Past the windows, celestials spangled the sky. At which point, Briar folded her hands atop the table. “Tell us.”
The clan regarded me with varying degrees of unrest. I straightened, the long-awaited report weighing down my mood.
So be it. I would not delay. “Change of plans.”
“What?” Aspen blurted, her fingers tightening on a half-empty chalice.
“Fucking hell,” Poet gritted, having guessed where this was headed.
“You’re not staying?” Nicu interpreted, piercing me with a distraught look.
I rested my hand over his, remorse digging a trench into my chest. “I’d love nothing more, but I must expand this quest.” I scanned the company. “Our traitors are shrewder than we anticipated.”
We stood, pulling back our chairs and crowding the table. Retrieving a map from the compartment in one scabbard, I rolled out a map of The Dark Seasons. Via messenger hawks, I had parceled updates to the fellowship, but this draft exhibited the latest comprehensive details.
“The insurgent soldiers are still in transit,” I began. “They routinely shift outposts yet leave no trace behind, other than faint stirs in the wind.”
Jeryn refrained from flinging his eyes heavenward.
I wouldn’t fault the cerebral king, given his preference for scientific logic over elemental faith.
However, the man’s systematic mind accepted the rest, those calculating eyes carving a path across the map.
He anatomized every territory and annotation so sharply I mused that he didn’t leave a trail of blood in his wake.
The same applied to Poet, those cunning irises picking apart the draft.
Briar as well, with her gift for detecting loopholes.
And Flare, her upbringing as a seafarer empowering the female to scout beyond the surface of any map, a gift that had enabled her to discover The Phantom Wild, a rainforest once known only in lore until she pinpointed its whereabouts with Jeryn.
As for Nicu, his eyes drifted across the chart.
Although he could not comprehend the standard geography, my liege had the keenest eye in this room, his alternative relationship to direction supplying him with unmatched abilities.
Even more than Flare, he looked where others did not, searched where others did not, and contemplated as others did not.
And Aspen…
My eyes clicked over to the female, whose distracted profile struck me off guard. A self-conspiratorial light cast across her pupils, equally discerning, cautious, and culpable. One would assume she grasped some elusive secret unbeknownst to this fellowship. A burden for which she felt responsible.
Aspen readjusted her axe whenever something remotely truthful dangled on the edge of her tongue. Evidently, this telltale sign had not changed.
But what had changed was my fixation on that indecent mouth, the pink flesh shadowed beneath her drooping hood, that feisty little beauty mark poking into view.
Aspen stiffened. She swerved her head my way.
Our gazes clashed, hot streams of energy powering through my veins. Despite being watched, she set her obstinate chin, refusing to look away. The magnitude of her attention fizzled across my skin, then surged to the head of my cock.
Condemnation. Shame and self-loathing chewed a hole in my forsaken conscience.
What the hell was wrong with me? How dare I stoop this low. And in front of Nicu.
Focus, dammit.