Page 1 of Dare

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.

---