52
Aspen
Silence followed my confession, the words echoing through the treehouses.
My pulse jackhammered as every thunderstruck gaze swung my way.
Only then did they register my absent cloak, the motifs spiraling up my arms, neck, and face.
In all our years together, I’d never exposed my markings to this extent.
On the heels of that, Briar squinted. As I grew up, I’d spun fewer casual bullshit tales than in my youth, reserving that tactic only to protect the people I cared about.
So rightly enough, she refused to accept that I would lower myself to such an elaborately inappropriate lie. Much less, at a time like this.
Visibly, Briar’s rational mind sought a loophole, a reason why I’d resort to a falsehood. Anything other than the truth.
While the princess relied on logic, her visceral husband reacted differently.
Poet had been casting me a sidelong glance.
But now, he turned gradually in my direction, the slow motion reminiscent of a panther tracking prey.
Shocked malice flashed in his pupils, and the edges of his face sharpened like the knives hidden beneath his coat.
Because his own portfolio of duplicity stretched longer than my arm, the jester needed no time believing me.
Neither did Jeryn. Or Flare.
Their silhouettes darkened the sidelines.
Off to the left, the pair stood arrested at the base of a winding stairway, splatters of blood crusting Jeryn’s fur coat and Flare’s jumpsuit.
Hours had passed since they carted away Lyrik’s bleeding form.
However, the Winter King and his Summer mate returned in time to stumble upon my confession.
Flare’s irises blazed with horrified treachery.
The razor-cut angles of Jeryn’s face reflected cold menace.
Incapable of showing more than one emotion at a time—except in private with Flare, who saw multitudes beneath the arctic surface—Winter appeared neither stunned, nor afflicted.
Rather, his gaze probed mine with undiluted efficiency.
Briefly, Nicu’s distraught expression latched onto Jeryn. The King took a moment to nod, indicating Lyrik must be resting.
At which point, Nicu’s worry hardened into determination. He shuffled nearer to me, placing himself at the midpoint between one end of the clan and the other.
Aire stalked closer to my side. Only he felt the shivers rattle through me, my blood’s temperature lowering. His fingers remained tightly woven through my own, warmth brimming from his skin, anchoring me to the earth.
They all stared. The fellowship that befriended me, welcomed me into their sphere, trusted me with their lives. The people who had loved me.
I wouldn’t allow the confession to tumble out like an accident. Instead, I balanced it on my tongue with resolve.
“I’m a spy,” I repeated, my voice cracking on the next words. “For Rhys.”
Briar’s complexion blanched. Poet’s hiss could have sliced through bone.
Flare sucked in a breath, her head whipping from side to side in denial. In a burst of fitful energy, she leaped my way as though to convince herself it wasn’t true, to implore me to retract the statement.
Although Jeryn remained deathly silent, his hand shot out and caught his mate’s wrist. Stapling his crystalline eyes to me, the man nudged Flare safely back to his corner.
Flare could break from him if she wanted. Aware of this, and not the type of male to dominate his mate’s choices, Jeryn cautiously released her hand while sweeping back his coat and settling his fingers atop a scalpel-shaped knife.
At the implication, a snarl crawled from Aire’s lungs.
The threat ripped Briar from her trance. After an awestruck moment, the princess’s demeanor shifted from friend to Royal, her pointed chin lifting as if she sat on her throne and prepared to take charge.
Good. Members of the clan crossing weapons against each other was too painful a dealbreaker. I’d execute myself first before letting that happen.
Only one person deserved to get hurt here. One liar.
“Disarm,” Briar commanded, her tone puncturing like a thorn.
Pacing myself, I withdrew the beloved axe and tossed it to the ground. Whereas Aire did no such thing. Even if the order had been directed at both of us instead of just me, I had doubts whether this soldier would relinquish the only means he had of protecting me.
Even so, the First Knight found himself at odds with the family he cherished. That sight alone threatened to shatter me. I didn’t want to cause a rift between them.
“You will explain yourself,” Briar clipped. “And you will do so without artifice.”
“One lie,” Poet warned in a lethal husk. “Spew one lie, and your tongue will see the point of my blade.”
Aire seethed, but I clenched his fingers. None of this escaped the clan, who watched us in guarded astonishment, everyone struggling to reconcile Aire’s disloyalty and my treason.
Every day, hour, and second, I’d dreaded and yearned for this moment. Countless times, I came close to admitting my betrayal, the urge pulling me apart at the seams.
The events spilled from my chest.
Rhys’s ultimatum. The clan’s safety. My mother’s safety. The secret vow to keep everyone from harm.
Life as a double agent. Conning, misleading, and misinforming Rhys. Feeding him false information that resulted in failed village ambushes throughout Autumn.
Aire’s return. Rhys’s order.
Nicu’s theory about a spy, albeit someone other than myself. My belief that Summer employed a second, unidentified informant.
My family history with the legendary oak, Briar’s memory of that same tree, and the corresponding pain in my markings leading to a theory. Then the mission to find the knights’ camp.
As for Nicu and Aire’s roles, that wasn’t my part to share.
By the end of it, the weight of lies plummeted off my shoulders, only to be replaced with a worse agony. Hurt and betrayal stared back, chopping me to fragments.
Only Nicu’s eyes glistened with empathy. And Aire clutched my fingers as if we’d been soldered together.
Grim looks passed between each pairing. While the trees rained leaves on us, they picked apart my tale, searching for a ruse.
Poet stalked to Briar’s side as she twisted an accusatory gaze toward Aire. Floored beyond measure, she observed the knight as if no longer recognizing him. “And you knew all of this.”
“I did, Your Highness,” he confirmed.
“No,” I argued, fear strapping around my chest. “I never told him until we came here. He didn’t know until a few days ago.”
“Be that as it may, I do not seek to acquit myself,” Aire insisted. “I stand with Aspen.”
“Is your longstanding premonition the impetus for this decision?” Jeryn interrogated, though he seemed to know the answer before Aire spoke.
“It was the source of past motivations,” the First Knight acknowledged. “Yet it influences me no longer.”
Poet’s green eyes tapered to slits. “Since when does our honorable commander side with the enemy?”
“She is not our enemy,” Aire growled. “I stake my life on that.”
The jester arched an eyebrow. “In other words, you’re in love with her.”
Aire fell silent, verifying Poet’s guess.
Briar held herself rigid, caught between fury and sympathy. Having approached the circle with her mate, Flare mirrored the same reaction. By severe contrast, Jeryn remained uninterested in wasting his time on sentiment instead of calculating the facts.
Swallowing, the princess regarded Aire. “If that’s true, your testimonial is compromised.”
“Being in love does not make me dishonest,” he defended in a vehement tone. “We intended to state Aspen’s case once you arrived.”
“And do you love him?” Briar asked me with suspicion.
Tenderness flowed through my veins. “Loving Aire doesn’t excuse me. But yes, I do.”
Sadness creased the princess’s expression. The clan would have rather celebrated this news instead of deciding whether it posed a threat.
Poet draped his tongue across his teeth. “As much as I enjoy being right—” he fixed his grip on the staff, “—alas, I’m not in the mood to fucking gloat.”
“This isn’t fair!” Nicu stalked into the ring’s center, anger shaking on his tongue. “Papa, you spent years wooing Spring’s crown. You played to their side, manipulated King Basil and Queen Fatima like Aspen did to Rhys!”
My heart melted, but I couldn’t let him do this. “Nicu—”
“And you!” He stabbed a finger toward Jeryn. “You experimented on innocent people!”
For once, Winter faltered. The accusation nicked a small crack in Jeryn’s facade, gruesome memories causing the barest twitch in his jaw.
“Aspen worked with Rhys,” Nicu contended. “But she never worked against born souls!”
I tried again. “Nicu, please—”
He stormed over my protest, pinning Jeryn with an indignant expression. “If redemption is possible for you, why not for her?”
Briar watched her son with pride. Despite his wrath, Poet’s mouth curled a fraction, viewing Nicu in a brilliant light.
Flare stepped forward, breaking the spell. “Redemption was possible for Jeryn. But it wasn’t instant.”
In a rare display, Jeryn’s throat constricted. “And I’ve yet to achieve it fully.”
Flare spun, cupped his profile, and mouthed something private that eased the tension in his features.
Briar dragged her admiring gaze from Nicu to me. Inspired by his sermon, a flicker of regret passed across her gray eyes, though she folded her hands primly in front of her. “It wasn’t immediate for Jeryn, as it cannot be for you.”
As much as I appreciated Nicu’s support, the princess was right. Working with Rhys had threatened the crusade and Nicu’s future, regardless of the motivation or outcome. I played a dicey hand, from which things could have turned out differently.
Also, the clan was too smart to be swayed.
This mission to the enclave could have been a farce on my part.
This plot to infiltrate the knight camp could have involved a secret rendezvous with Rhys, an attempt to drop Aire and Nicu into enemy hands.
Our fellowship couldn’t risk giving me the benefit of the doubt.
While Poet’s eyes followed her, Princess Briar moved forward and halted inches from me. The scents of tart apples and parchment flooded my senses, resurrecting a thousand wistful memories of her and Poet, from the moment we met on the threshold of the Masters’ hideout.
Her voice shook as she regarded me. “I wish you had come to us sooner.”
My throat swelled. “I wish there’d been a chance before now.”
“There was always a chance.”
“Not if I wanted an opportunity to have Rhys under my thumb.”
Briar considered my argument. “Treasonous criminals should be painless to detain. But not when you care for them.” Her chin trembled. “You do not make this decision easy.”
I whispered around the rock in my throat. “Are your decisions ever easy?”
Fondness and sorrow tilted her mouth. At the sight, my chest constricted for the princess, the jester, the queen mother, and the Winter King. Life as a Royal wasn’t glamorous or enviable. Not when the world trapped you between duty and love.
Practical Autumn needed time to investigate and weigh the facts. With supreme effort, Briar stretched her lips into a flat line. The very portrait of political refinement, she glanced toward her husband and forced herself to speak. “Take her away.”
Aire’s snarl tore across the woods. “No!”
Before the jester could snare my arm, the knight yanked me behind him. “You’re not fucking taking her anywhere.”
“Aire!” I grappled with his shoulder. “Aire, stop!”
“Not unless you take me too.”
Shock delayed Poet’s reaction. Aggression clashed with misery, both emotions torching across the jester’s face. In a dangerous tone, he coaxed, “Don’t do this, Aire.”
Nicu protested, crusading on my behalf to his mother, who attempted to rationalize with him. Jeryn stepped in, and Aire wrestled against the king’s hold, buckling and growling like a maddened soldier while Poet pinned my hands together.
“Aire,” I hollered. “Please, stop!”
But only when a slender hand settled on his elbow did the thrashing cease.
Gingerly, Flare shook her head at him. Familiar with imprisonment and captivity, she wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
But she also learned something crucial about the difference between ferocity and restraint, especially when it affected the fates of others.
Jeryn translated her actions. In a crisp baritone, he stated, “You’re making it worse.”
For me. Aire was making it worse for me.
I hadn’t thought of that. I’d only been thinking of how this fight would destroy him.
My knight froze. With his chest pumping hot air, Aire’s wild eyes swung to mine.
I held fast to that beautiful face and formed the words, “Keep your edge.”
Anguish collapsed his features. His lips mouthed back, “I love you.”
Our gazes clung as the clan pulled us apart.
But even while Flare tied a strong knot around my wrists, and Poet led me away, the jester’s profile grimaced in pain. Other than Briar and Nicu, rarely did anyone rob him of words. That happened only if they had the unique power to wound him.
The sight pulverized me. After years with this man, I knew him well enough. He hated what I’d done. But he hated the aftermath even more.
That made two of us.