9
Aire
Everyone pivoted toward Nicu. The young Royal slanted his head, his eyes jumping across the map with no distinguishable sequence. He could not understand the rendering’s scale. Neither the placements, nor the distances between Seasons.
But he did understand patterns.
With the rebellious confidence of his parents, Nicu dismissed the map’s layout. In contrast to the rest of us, he didn’t limit himself to logistics. Rather, he focused on motives instead of locations.
Spurred by the clan’s attention, Nicu followed the overhead garland of ribbons toward the doors, then pointed at the exit and beyond. “Someone is sending hushes to Rhys.”
Someone was telling the king secrets. A sharp deduction. Apparently, we’d been overthinking the complexities instead of consulting the obvious.
Poet’s mouth tipped as if his son had earned a standing ovation. Briar’s irises shone with esteem.
Flare’s face alighted in comprehension, and Jeryn frowned—his version of impressed or dubious. It was difficult to say which.
I grinned, bowing my head toward Nicu. “Well met.”
“You exceed us all,” Poet acclaimed.
Nicu quirked his lips. “I’m not done yet.”
“This theory makes no fucking sense,” Jeryn revoked after a second thought. “If Rhys has been deploying this covert troop to areas where there are no Autumn units to ambush, what is the point? An allied spy wouldn’t lead Summer astray.”
“A good spy wouldn’t,” Flare countered, forming the words slowly.
“But a saboteur would,” Poet expanded in a low timbre. “Keeping one’s enemy close tends to benefit the deceiver. In which case, they would play a chess game with that witless motherfucker.”
“Misdirect the troop from successful ambushes. In the same breath, help that troop evade Aire,” Briar summarized. “One action defies Rhys, while the other supports him. It might appear counterproductive, but it’s not.”
Jeryn anatomized that statement. “Balance victories with defeats. The strategy enables this saboteur to maintain a convincing front, so Rhys won’t suspect them of duplicity.”
“Especially if there’s a long-term objective,” I ventured. “Although delivering the traitors to me would defeat Rhys quicker, it’s not in the saboteur’s interest. The question is why.”
“Maybe the chap’s got an axe to grind,” Aspen suggested.
“If he’s pissed off at the king and has decided to thwart Summer’s plan as payback, maybe he wants to draw out Rhys’s suffering, slowly drag him through the mud.
Otherwise, this mole would have identified himself to us.
If it had anything to do with the equality of born souls instead of a personal grudge, we’re an ideal group to be partnered with. ”
Winter scanned her from across the table, his features probing like the tips of a fork. “How do you know it’s a male?”
She shrugged. “I don’t. But from my experience, men in power are either brutish, arrogant, or both. All of which point to a spy who’s fueled by testosterone and dealing with unresolved bad blood.”
“Brutish, arrogant, or both,” Poet repeated in a droll tone.
“Present company excluded.” Then the female glanced toward me. “Mostly.”
Button sufficiently pushed. Offended, I locked my jaw. “Based on the gentlemen you keep company with, I’m uncertain we can trust your judgement.”
“Who said I was interested in the company of gentle men?”
Each object in the room turned crimson. I would slice through every degenerate to whom she was referring.
“No one beyond our clan has been privy to Aire’s mission, much less to our conflict with Rhys,” Briar reasoned.
Flare wavered. “But seven years is too long to be sure of that.”
“Agreed,” the princess stated. “And I concur with Aspen.”
“As do I,” I murmured, my nape tingling as she fixed her stunned gaze on me. “This spy must be working against Summer out of self-interest.”
“Bad blood,” Nicu echoed Aspen’s comment. “But not blood that’s angry.” For a moment, he considered the options before landing on one. “Blood that’s shared.”
Jeryn’s features tapered. “Rhys’s heir.”
Flames from the hearth swatted the atmosphere.
This hypothesis was viable. Long ago, Jeryn and Poet revealed their suspicion that Rhys had spawned an illegitimate heir.
Although the man already sired a descendant with Queen Giselle, that spoiled offspring held little interest in his title or the actions of his parents.
Therefore, Summer’s uninvested prince wouldn’t have the motivation to defy Rhys.
But a rejected child would.
Deserted, disinherited by his father, and denied a claim to the throne, such a figure would have every reason to spite His Majesty. And everything to gain.
Provided this successor knew of their origins. For all we had investigated, no information about this missing figure had been unveiled.
Briar’s eyes widened. “Someone used to being hidden would know how to disappear in plain sight.”
Poet tapped the map with the edge of his blade. “That’s a skill we’re all familiar with.”
“It’s a good lead. So we set out to uncover this missing heir, though we should limit this venture to one or two of us. If not, we risk discovery.”
Aspen stepped forward, but Nicu got there first. “I’ll do it.”
Everyone stalled on the Royal son. Hesitant gazes traveled among our clan, his statement placing me on guard.
With every day that Nicu matured, Poet and Briar refused to keep him in the dark, defining this world conflict in a manner he comprehended.
Showing their son the respect and trust he deserved, they never restricted his knowledge.
But however much all of us admired Nicu’s determination, and however much it hurt to admit, this assignment required spatial and navigational surveillance, including traveling farther afield.
The princess and jester had been anticipating this day. Briar exchanged heartrending gazes with Poet, then cupped the side of Nicu’s face. “We’re proud of your courage, and we’d value nothing more than your help.” She swallowed, visibly hating to voice the next sentence. “But it’s too dangerous.”
Poet gained his son’s side and murmured, “You’re not ready yet.”
Regrettably, they explained. Nicu could follow the garlands in these halls and access the exterior grounds. Yet with his condition, he would not get past The Wandering Fields alone.
In time, it may happen. But not yet.
Nicu’s features crumpled. He swiveled his attention to me, then back to his parents. After a gut-wrenching moment, he nodded.
The best course of action involved me seeking out the perpetrator once I resumed this mission. As an extra precaution, Aspen volunteered to audit the castle, and the clan agreed. She knew how to get around people undetected and would appear less circumspect than the Royals.
As the meeting adjourned, I squeezed Nicu’s sagging shoulder. “You will get there.”
Disappointment stretched across his countenance. “Don’t leave yet.”
“I won’t. There is much to be planned first.”
To that, my liege grinned in relief. At least I could give him this.
We retired to the courtyard, where courtiers celebrated my homecoming. At last, four guests entered the quad. Three women squealed, snatched up their skirts, and flew to me like cyclones.
Cadence, Posy, and Vale throttled me with hugs, their frothy dresses emitting floral perfumes. Next, Eliot slammed his palm against mine, then pounded my back as we embraced.
“Finally,” the minstrel laughed. “Someone to distract these three from gossiping my fucking ears off.”
“Finally someone who won’t subject us to sappy ballads inspired by their handsome beau.” Cadence bumped her hip against Eliot’s, then gave me a once-over. “My, my. You’ve gotten bulkier.”
Vale rolled her eyes. “Do you ever stop?”
Posy elbowed Cadence. “And don’t you have enough conquests?”
The flippant woman huffed. “Come on. Why choose?”
I grunted through my humor. “I am not a stallion up for auction.”
“Not even during role play?”
The women sniggered. Eliot shook his head, stubble gracing his jaw.
Our clan gathered in chairs under the central maple tree. Nicu proved the only exception, conversing instead with a group of young men his age.
From his vantage point, Poet aimed a deadly gaze at the males. Because he did nothing to hide it, Cadence joked to Briar, “Get used to that fatherly scowl. The prettier Nicu gets, the longer his line of admirers will stretch until it’s snaking around the castle.”
“He’s not going to have a line of admirers,” the jester bit out.
Aspen gave him a bland look. “Um, you do realize he has your genes.”
“And your eyes,” Posy sighed dreamily.
“And your charisma” Vale snuggled her lady closer. “Lethal combination.”
Nestling into Poet’s chest, Briar chuckled. “Seasons forbid if Nicu inherits his father’s wicked edge too.”
“Anyway, I wasn’t done.” Poet flitted his fingers. “He’s not going to have a line of admirers. He’s going to have a kingdom’s worth of them.”
While absently plucking his lute, Eliot smirked. “What about when those admirers turn into lovers?”
A mercenary growl sawed from Poet’s throat. “Fame is one thing. But the only string of lovers who will ever touch our son are the ones I’ll be hanging by their cocks from the parapets.”
“That’s murder,” Cadence supplied dryly.
Poet’s irises glinted. “Aye. It fucking is.”
Aspen ribbed, “In that case, when things get real in Nicu’s sex life, I fear for the bloke who has a showdown with you.”
Cadence raised her hand. “I want front row seats!”
“I’ll bring the snacks,” Posy volunteered.
“No, I’ll bring the snacks,” Vale corrected. “You bring the drinks.”
Everyone laughed except for the obvious contenders. Poet glared at the lads surrounding Nicu, my liege’s preference for males having been made clear by the time he was seven.
Briar whispered something to distract her husband. Meanwhile, Jeryn leaned against the maple tree and gripped Flare’s waist, too busy murmuring his own enticements into the woman’s ear.
As the Royal Son approached us, I knelt and summoned Nicu’s ferret. “A surprise for you, my friend.”
Fishing an acorn from my pocket, I offered it to the creature. “I searched high and low for this.”
Tumble caught the acorn between his teeth and scurried off. Nicu rewarded me with a smile before leaving to keep track of his familiar.
“That’s a risky gift,” Poet observed.
“It’s not one of those acorns,” I assured the clan while lowering myself onto a stone bench. “Even if it were, it appears Nicu’s familiar doesn’t need magic to cause mayhem.”
“Besides, those acorns don’t exist,” Briar attested. “The legend is a falsehood.”
Aspen twisted in her seat. “Which legend?”
Flare straightened in Jeryn’s arms. “Autumn has a myth about acorns?”
As everyone gathered closer, Briar cited a passage from a volume in her favorite book series, the same installment that inspired Eliot’s performance during Reaper’s Fest all those years ago. Anyone with Autumn origins knew the tale, but many who’d been raised outside this kingdom did not.
“It’s said that certain acorns have magic, which is granted to the people who find them,” the princess said. “But it took me several rereads of the series to realize. It’s not the acorns that have magic, it’s the oak from which they come.”
I frowned. This part, I had not known.
While Poet encircled her midriff, Briar recounted her banishment, when she hid in a sacred woodland enclave with Eliot and Cadence. During that time, Her Highness accidentally offended a great oak in the forest. However, she made amends and earned the tree’s blessing.
Sentient trees existed in Autumn. This oak had been one such archetype, a ruling figure in its own right.
Upon rereading her series, Briar noted the similarities between the fictional oak and the one she encountered.
Then she recalled how the oak had shed acorns, which the breeze had scattered across nearby terrain.
As she described the incident, Flare’s pupils gleamed with fascination. Jeryn might have arched an eyebrow and asked pragmatic questions, were it not for his lady’s evident delight.
Aspen winced in pain, her thumbs massaging the foliage motifs across her arms. Then a disquieting thought gripped her features, and her fingers pressed harder into the symbols.
“This happened in the treehouse enclave where you lived?” she inquired.
Briar deliberated. “Not directly inside its borders, but rather near.”
I took judicious note of Aspen’s trepidation as she replied, “I didn’t know.”
My eyes narrowed. “Should you have?”
“Not really.” She released her grasp on both arms. “It’s just a figure of speech. Otherwise, I don’t have much use for fairytales.”
The clan had expected an elaborate answer from this professional fibber.
Yet they didn’t dwell for long. While our fellowship processed the story, I watched Aspen’s fingers sketch the foliage markings across her knuckles once more.
Then I continued watching, my gaze tracking the female as she excused herself and slipped through the crowd.
Despite the amorous nobles discreetly batting their lashes my way, they failed to steal my attention. Nonetheless, it had been an age since I bedded a woman. I’d been celibate for too long and couldn’t reconcile this lack of interest.
Instead of reciprocating and escorting one of the ladies to my suite, my eyes clung to the place where Aspen disappeared. I thought of her with that other soldier, fresh rancor tightening my joints. Then I recalled her smile while she brandished that axe, a spike of warmth unraveling down my chest.
Shit. Rather than comforted by this notion, unease settled in my bones, along with a troublesome realization. Too late, I grasped the impetus for my behavior, the source of these feelings toward Aspen, which hadn’t existed prior to today.
I was… attracted to her.