14
Aire
Urgency quickened my pace as I stalked toward the west wing, my boots slamming across the courtyard pavement.
The tower horn wailed, its coded melody established since the days of old, signaling that a member of the Royal family had gone missing.
This outcry summoned all troops to service, rousing my brethren from their dormitories.
Servants, merchants, and nobles emerged from thresholds and leaned out windowsills. Shouts rang into the night. “What news?”
I carved a path to the castle, not bothering to respond. One thought alone stoked my rage.
Nicu.
He had vanished two hours ago. Despite a fleet of guards standing post outside his suite, none had witnessed him leave.
Notwithstanding, I had sensed an altercation prior to that while keeping vigil on south grounds, a zephyr sweeping against my knuckles, its erratic direction heralding an unforeseen twist. Most importantly, it carried whiffs of Nicu’s scent.
I had arrived at his door moments after Poet and Briar, who sat with their son every night before the family retired. The instant I confirmed my suspicions to them, the search commenced. We had split up, tearing through every location Nicu frequented, at which point the horn blew.
He might have used the secret passage from his chamber, except sentinels patrolled those tunnels.
That Nicu knew how to escape notice regardless of his condition was no accident.
Poet and Briar had been relentless in teaching him to understand the concept of evasion, while Jeryn and a second Winter physician tasked to Nicu’s treatment had assisted.
As a result, my liege became an apt pupil, learning how to blend into the shadows like his father.
For adventurous reasons, he may have ventured on his own, and this might be a harmless case of him losing his way.
Or his disappearance involved this unknown spy. If not Rhys’s secret heir, then a captor plotting to hold Nicu for ransom. Worse, an assassin uninterested in negotiation. The possibilities abounded, for it wouldn’t be the first time any of our clan had been targeted.
Intuition chaffed my flesh like a rash. Images flitted in and out of my psyche.
Nicu’s face, blending with the visage of another male. This one younger, with certain features similar to Poet and Briar’s son, except the child possessed auburn hair and irises like my own. A precious countenance that had once trusted me, believing I would keep him safe.
I prowled toward the Royal entrance, my desire to carve out the perpetrator’s heart all-consuming. If Poet didn’t mutilate this enemy first, I would.
Hawks catapulted across the sky, providing broader surveillance. They circled on majestic wingspans, slicing through the clouds in an unbroken circumference. However, one of them abandoned the rotation, his metallic plumes glinting like foil.
I stalled, thrust my attention heavenward, and narrowed my gaze at the object in his beak.
My arm lashed out to stop the raptor’s progress.
Crooking my elbow, I waited as the hawk answered my call, his body spearing down, arrowing toward me.
The descent buffeted my collar, the avian’s talons hooking onto my leather-clad forearm, his beak clamping a leaf adorned with handwriting.
The obsidian tics of his eyes leveled with mine. For the past century, the watch hawks of Autumn had volunteered themselves as fellow knights in their own right.
Skyborn defenders of the kingdom. Winged soldiers of the Crown.
“Brother,” I greeted, stroking the creature’s feathers. “What have we here?”
The hawk permitted me to ease the missive from his hold, my gloved fingers raising the leaf to the exterior firelight. The tidings bore no personal symbol, yet it didn’t need to. The penmanship told me enough.
Terror chilled my veins. I charged into the castle with the hawk riding my shoulder.
In the Royal wing, Poet thrashed across one of the corridors like a feral tiger.
From one apartment to the next, he blew past the doors, hinges busting on impact.
Every poor soul on duty gave him a wide berth, the jester’s green irises wild with panic, wrath, and five dozen other murderous inclinations.
Unkempt hair framed his tormented face, the black leather and lace of his attire unclasped and hanging off him as though he’d just walked through a hurricane.
Yet the second he caught sight of me, Poet halted.
His features darkened, the rampant expression giving way to vengeance.
Knocking his head toward Nicu’s suite, he prowled inside, hollering something.
As I struck after him and closed the chamber door, Briar flew into the antechamber.
Clasping one of Nicu’s pillows to the bodice of her cashmere robe, the princess’s horrified pupils clung to Poet, then swerved to me.
Jeryn and Flare followed in her wake. The Winter King and his lady stationed themselves beside the window, quickly trailed by Eliot, Cadence, Posy, and Vale. A grim expression sat on the minstrel’s face, while Briar’s ladies appeared winded, the group having combed through separate wings.
Except for Briar, everyone got out of Poet’s way. Idling in their respective corners, the clan granted their jester the necessary space in which to burn holes into the carpet.
Someone would need to send word to Queen Avalea. Without delay, a hawk must reach the outer regions to which she had traveled. But not until I did my part.
Moving quickly, I strode deeper into the room. The hawk launched from my shoulder, seeking purchase on a window seat. Because the jester was the nearest parent in range, I said nothing while holding out the leaf.
Poet swiped the missive and growled, “Briar.”
The princess darted to his side. The room fell deathly quiet, my pulse drumming as they poured over the contents.
Briar gasped, one palm clapping over her mouth. Relief collapsed their features before a new type of distress took hold, in addition to a rampage. At least on one predecessor’s part.
Poet unleashed. “Wicked motherfucking hell!” he roared, then aimed a painted fingernail at his wife. “He gets this from you!”
Briar’s freckles pinched together. Her palm clutched his jaw to steady him. “Poet, please calm down.”
“Sweet Thorn, you should know by now,” he seethed while the rest of us passed around the note. “I don’t have your willpower, much less the restraint to fucking calm down!”
Jeryn inspected the letter as if peering through a microscope, and Flare read swiftly. Then Eliot groaned in dismay while the ladies took their turns, huddling around the missive. Clad in nothing but embroidered robes, Posy blanched, worry gripped Vale’s countenance, and Cadence pursed her lips.
I scanned the message last. Nicu’s handwriting begged forgiveness for causing a “fuss,” assured us of his wellbeing, beseeched the clan to look after Tumble, and conveyed his intentions. With dismay, I scanned every line, each one a haunting blow to the chest.
Save us all. Be a hero. Help a friend.
The first two declarations were quotes from Briar, things she imparted to him as a child. However, the last proclamation seized me by the throat. Not because I could sense the source, but because I could not.
Which meant only one person.
“What fucking friend?” Poet boomed. “Aside from Her Majesty, we’re all accounted for.”
“Not all of us,” disputed a baritone voice.
Poet and Briar whirled toward Jeryn. The king loomed within a shard of moonlight that diced through the window, his features composed, logical, and unsurprised.
Deciphering his thoughts, Flare pointed to a display case resting on a side table.
The compartment stood empty, though it usually held a gift Nicu once received for his birthday.
A dagger with indented ribbon shapes along the handle. A weapon crafted by the only smith in this clan.
My blood boiled. Everlasting Seasons!
Poet’s face slackened. At the same time, Briar’s complexion paled, the conclusion hitting them in unison.
“Aspen,” she whispered.
“But she’s not in residence,” Posy insisted. “She declined having a spare apartment here.”
“And if the alarm reaches Aspen’s home, it will take time to get her ass to the castle,” Vale added.
Cadence dismissed that with a wave. “We’re assuming she wasn’t already in the stronghold.”
“And we’re assuming this wasn’t planned,” Eliot said. “Notes are written when actions are premeditated.”
“A leaf engraved in haste does not imply that,” I rebutted.
Seething, Poet wrapped his arms around Briar’s middle, holding the woman tightly while she struggled to remain levelheaded.
“Aspen wouldn’t assist Nicu in a plot to leave the castle unless he presented a solid argument,” she rationalized.
“And Nicu wouldn’t leave in the first place unless he believed his intentions benefitted the clan. ”
Flare nodded. “He wants to help us.”
“And yet,” Jeryn calculated, “this doesn’t explain why he chose Aspen specifically.”
Against my better judgement, I bristled. “Without evidence, this is moot. We do not know for certain she was on the premises, much less for Nicu’s sake.”
“You said Nicu mentioned a spy during the roundtable,” Posy jumped in. “What if—”
“No,” Briar affirmed. “Nicu loves people, but he would never travel with someone he doesn’t know intimately.”
A vicious expression carved across Poet’s face. “He’s with Aspen,” he growled. “So where the fuck are they going?”
Jeryn and Flare sliced their gazes at me. This verified a longstanding suspicion about these two. They knew the catalyst for my protective instincts toward Aspen, having concluded I hid information about the woman.
I smashed my lips together. Although the premonition about my impending failure to protect Aspen offered no specifics, exposing this omen may trigger or worsen the circumstances. The whims of destiny played cruel games. This had been the reason I withheld the information in the first place.
Also, it was Aspen’s private fate. If anyone should be told first, it was her.
Bemused, Eliot and the ladies wheeled my way. Next, Poet and Briar slowly directed their full attention from Jeryn and Flare to me. The princess frowned, and her shoulders straightened. Not in the mood to be trifled with, the jester lifted a dangerous eyebrow.
Nicu, clinging to my side as a child. Nicu, hugging me upon my return yesterday. Nicu, crestfallen when he’d been denied the chance to aid the clan, to find our spy.
Be truthful and help retrieve Nicu. Or practice dishonesty and safeguard Aspen’s fate.
Fuck.
“I do not know their destination,” I imparted. “I have no sense of that. But there is one thing.”
And so I conveyed the premonition. As I spoke, everyone digested my confession with varying degrees of consternation. Other than Jeryn, whose arctic features testified just how seriously he took superstitions.
“The particulars are beyond my knowledge,” I finished. “Yet this harbinger has never included Nicu.”
Steam could have blasted from Poet’s nostrils. “Not good enough.”
The fuming jester struck into motion, exiting the suite while Briar commanded the nearest guards, “Saddle our horses!”
Jeryn followed, the hem of his fur coat slicing over the carpet. Threading his fingers with Flare’s, the king inclined his head while passing me, and his lady cupped my arm in sympathy. Eliot, Cadence, Posy, and Vale offered conciliatory expressions before splitting up to continue their hunt.
A hoarse breath expelled from my chest as I marched after them. Poet and Briar would peel back every layer of Autumn soil to find their son. After briefing the troops, I seized upon my own search, mindful of the ribbons Nicu used to navigate the halls.
Earlier, I had been searching for him near the servant’s wing. Halting my stallion there, I’d sensed a presence, yet the link had been muddled and unfamiliar. A glaring contrast to Nicu’s aura.
Presently, I retraced that path. Tracking an orange garland down one of the corridors, foreboding mounted. Under the torchlight, the strand led back to the servants’ entrance on the fortress’s north side, where my horse continued to graze.
On the threshold, I canvassed the landscape. Amid vegetable plots, indentations materialized in the soil. Someone had crawled on all fours here. Slender but toned in stature, with a lightness of foot, and a bit indirect in their trajectory. In retrospect, I failed to notice this before.
Ripping a broadsword from my scabbard, I stalked toward a hay bale where the indentations ended. Spinning the blade, I tapped its point against the pile of straw. The mound shook, emitting the fragrance of cedarwood.
That was why I hadn’t discerned Nicu’s scent until now. The other unknown presence had overpowered it like a blockade, impossible to penetrate.
Aspen.
A snarl blasted from my lungs. Pivoting, I barreled toward the stallion, my cloak a veritable storm around my limbs.
The warhorse lifted his muzzle from the undergrowth, heeding my arrival.
As I swung onto the male’s back, the equine took flight, his hooves kicking up a funnel of russet leaves, the environment reducing to an abstraction on either side.
Brazen. Fucking. Creature.
So help me, when I found her…
When I got my hands on her…
Fisting the reins, I rode hard and vaulted from the castle.