Page 133 of Dare

“I like seeing how weapons are made,” she answered. “I forged my axe myself.”

“Aspen, you never told us that.” Briar smiled and gestured to the weapon. “It’s extraordinary. Are you telling me we have a prodigy in our midst?”

The girl’s posture straightened. “Prodigies are under ten, but I’m thirteen.” She patted one curvy hip. “It’ll be more obvious soon. I’ve filled out nicely already.”

“Indeed, you have. For the longest time, Poet and I thought you were a bit younger, but over the last few months, that assumption changed. You’re growing taller every day.” The corners of Briar’s mouth lifted. “Nonetheless, it’s a remarkable age to perfect such craftsmanship.”

From inside the hood, Aspen’s skin appeared to flush. “Which is why I’d rather try on weapons than dresses.”

“Or you can do both,” the princess improvised, sensing the girl’s interest as much as I did.

I set down the paper and quill, then padded toward Aspen. She flinched but didn’t pull back when I traced a finger along her knuckles, each one strewn with a pattern akin to wood grain, entwined with leaves and brambles and petals. It resembled ink, yet it wasn’t. The enigma sank deeper, trenching through her as if she’d inherited it from the land.

“You wear nature on your skin,” I whispered. “How lucky to be blessed with this gift.”

Despite my moving lips, Aspen somehow understood the compliment. In the future, her body would grow more enhanced, accompanied by the promise of a smoky voice, if I detected her vocal cords right. She would be stunning, with her ample form covered in foliage. By then, hopefully this girl wouldn’t hide.

Beneath that hood, two hazel irises glinted. A tail of crimped hair flopped down her chest. If she pulled back the vestment, I had the feeling she would take our breaths away.

Aspen hedged, her attention flitting to the array of clothing. “Is that what boys like? Or … men? Do they want beauty?”

Briar strode forward. “They want strength. They want intelligence.”

I collected my writing tools and wrote, Beauty is merely a first impression. Passion comes from someplace deeper, and it lasts longer.

Aspen made a valiant effort to conceal her enthusiasm. “Fine, but maybe …” She motioned toward a silver dress. “Maybe that one.”

The polished material flashed like the edge of her axe. At her age, it would need to be altered, but the girl refused. “Nah. I’ll grow into it later.”

Yes, she would.

Briar clapped her hands once and feigned an industrious expression. “Now then. As it is, my three ladies are going to flay me for not bringing any souvenirs back from this cellar. But we had best make haste before my fashion-victim husband gets here and claims everything for himself.”

Earlier that night, I had climaxed in the arms of a villain prince. This clan had weathered a long journey and an arduous roundtable.

We should be exhausted. Yet we spent the next hour exploring the textile cellar. Under her vestment, Aspen shimmied into the oversized dress, then discovered a plume among the jewels—something she could use to embellish a hat back home. The three of us tried on clothes, dressing one another and filling the cellar with laughter.

***

We traveled down the corridor with our chosen booty when a draft rustled Aspen’s cloak, and muffled male voices drifted from an area Jeryn and I hadn’t yet shown our guests.

Setting down the sacks of clothing we’d filled, the females trailed me toward the noise. The alcove’s rolling door stood open. Descending the steps, we found the men tarrying with torchlights in their fists, the flames tossing orange across the catacomb.

The knight, jester, and prince wheeled our way as we entered. The prince’s face cut straight to mine. He took a step toward me, then halted as if about to step on glass. He wanted to stride my way, to see if I was okay, the impulse written all over him. But he wasn’t sure if I wanted that.

I did. My body wanted it so much, the craving itched across my flesh, and my feet pricked with the urge to jump on him. I longed for whatever this miraculous thing was, as much as I feared losing it. But if I gave this man leave to come near me, I might not recover when it ended.

Briar’s gaze jumped across the sunken crypt. “This was never part of the legend.”

Aspen gave a dazed whistle. “Not something you see every day.”

“Aire was having a moment,” Poet explained, sauntering to his wife, taking her hand, and guiding her deeper. “One of his senses got a second wind.”

“Since then, he’s been muttering nonsense,” Jeryn groused, reluctantly prying his gaze from mine.

The knight glanced about, his handsome features introspective. “There was a quarrel in this room between family members.” His eyes flashed. “Another time, a forbidden tryst between lovers.”

Poet described how Aire had been analyzing every room they’d passed on the way here. The knight had philosophized about who’d lived in which chamber, what they had been feeling or experiencing in a given moment, and what had occurred in different rooms. A debate between warriors. Children playing and climbing trees. Residents building these walls and hunting in packs. Aire didn’t know all the details, but he felt the essence of them, as if the former dwellers had left their fingerprints behind.

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