Page 132 of Dare

The truth stung my throat. I couldn’t write this down, couldn’t make it permanent.

But it came out anyway. “It will end.”

If my voice were audible to them, they would have heard it splinter. Jeryn would leave when he was prepared. This would end, and we would go our separate ways, doing what we could for this world.

The knowledge lanced through me like a spike. It had been easier when we’d been resisting our attraction and our feelings. It had been easier to hate him, easier to feel hostile pain. But after what happened in that celestial ocean, this type of hurt was far worse.

Although I’d spoken the words, Briar’s features twisted, and Aspen stepped closer. Either they had managed to read my lips, or they simply related to loss and heartbreak and things that couldn’t be, no matter how much we wanted them.

Briar ducked her head, prompting me to look at her. In those earnest features, I beheld not just a leader who reigned, but a woman who cared. “My father once told me that we can’t help who enters our hearts. To deny that would be to deny our truest self. However, I didn’t understand what he meant until Poet.” Thoughts of the jester stoked her irises like kindling. “It can be infuriating, terrifying, and agonizing at times.” Then her mouth tipped into a smile, and every scorching emotion in existence fueled her words. “But it also yields the most profound emotions you’ll ever know.”

And I was happy for her. But the tiny dent in my own heart didn’t promise the same fate. After the lightning rainstorm, we’d been disgusted with ourselves. After the medical chamber, we felt guilty. But in the raging sea, we surrendered. The prince and I gave in to something transcendent. By clawing at each other, we clawed our way through scorn and lust, breaching another barrier.

Months ago, I had wanted to drown that man. But now my longings were scattered all over this rainforest, cast in too many directions to forge one path. I didn’t love him. Yet I burned like a flame, and I ached like a flesh wound.

The feelings roped around my stomach, even as I shook my head and wrote, He’s leaving.

“He is not gone yet,” the princess reminded me. “I know what it feels like to have limited time—an hourglass draining, with no means to stop it. But it’s worth taking advantage of that time. To seize it with both hands.” Her expression lightened. “And who knows? Perhaps it will last longer than either of you expect.”

Not everyone is Poet of Spring and Briar of Autumn, I scripted.

“They shouldn’t be,” she affirmed. “Every passion is different. That makes this world diverse.” She took my free hand in hers. “And that’s what we’re fighting for.”

The knot in my stomach loosened. The mood lifted, with Aspen parading around the room, nonchalantly gliding her fingers over the robes, nightgowns, dresses, and trousers. “I mean, with all the fuck-me looks passing between you two, it seems like you’re having a ton of fun with each other. Secluded in this hot forest with a gorgeous prince who looks like that? Why stop now?”

I penned a response and held up the paper. He’s cold, actually.

“Even better,” the girl replied, batting her lashes in exaggeration. “You get to thaw him.”

I laughed. This girl could cut down a warrior one moment, then banter or flirt the next, her boldness infused with a dose of feminine moxie. Someday, she would sashay through a room with the same finesse she used in wielding that axe.

All the same, Briar groaned. “Your mother shall have my head.”

Aspen’s shoulders hunched. “My mother won’t notice,” she mumbled, then sought to rectify the comment when we frowned at her. “Oh, she’s a good person. But she’s not … she’s unwell.”

“You know, you can tell us,” Briar coaxed, indicating they’d had this conversation before.

But Aspen waved her hand. “Anyway, you’re one to talk, Highness. You and the jester only need to glance at one another, and the room becomes a smut scene.”

The princess cleared her throat. “Poet has been teaching you too many phrases.”

“The hell, he has. I don’t need a man to teach me anything.” With pride, she jabbed a thumb at her mouth. “This tongue is all mine.”

“And with the number of fibs you tell, it’s going to get you into trouble someday.”

The girl patted the axe squatting on her hip. “That’s what this is for.” Her eyes wandered toward a blushing pink bustier attached to a crimped skirt, which dangled from a rack. “That sure is pretty.”

We followed her gaze toward the dress. I beamed, set down the writing materials, and pranced to the garment. Plucking it from the collection, I held it aloft and shook the hanger in invitation.

“Yes,” Briar exclaimed. “Tailored to your measurements, it would look lovely on you.”

We guessed, at least. It was hard to tell with the girl concealed.

Temptation lit Aspen’s eyes. Yet the moment was fleeting. We might as well have bade the girl to approach a booby trap. The confidence we’d witnessed moments ago deflated, shyness causing her to retreat a step.

“I don’t think so,” she muttered, fidgeting with her hood. “I’d much rather see that armory crypt again. Any chance we can revisit it before that surly knight gets there and hogs up the goods?”

I set down the dress and retrieved my writing instruments. You have a kinship with weapons.

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