Page 181 of Dare

No ocean surf. No buzzing mist.

This land was quiet. A whisper might cause an avalanche.

Each morning, I awoke in priceless bedding, expecting the opulence of my suite to look different. Warmer. Brighter. I expected a female body to stir naked beside me. I often caught myself leaning in for a kiss, reaching for those enduring hands, eager to flip her over, spread her thighs around my hips, and fuck her until she felt nothing but my hard cock and earth-shattering bliss.

I cleared my throat, pulling myself together as Silvia and Doria gained my side. The women flanked me like bookends. So they meant business.

Doria spoke first. She gestured behind her toward the medical den. “You spend a great deal of time there.”

“I always have,” I deflected while studying the view.

“Not to this extent. The people wish to see you.”

“They have seen me.”

In my periphery, the queens pruned their lips. My reply was not untrue. The people had seen me that first evening, after I’d reunited with my grandaunts. Emerging onto the castle’s deck, I had stood before the masses, and the kingdom had cried out. The court had chanted my name, the mayhem flooding my eardrums.

In my suite that night, I had bent over a plant pot and tossed up my meal. I’d gone from being cloistered to this. Escorts, callers, well-wishers.

Swamped. Constantly.

A feast with the courtiers. A meeting with the queens and our council. Another meeting with the Court Physician. An inspection of the castle’s infirmaries, medical halls, laboratories, dispensaries, apothecaries, clinics. An update on new research practices, most of which involved practices that curdled my fucking stomach, which I planned to shut down and supplant.

All in due course. Proceeding tactfully was paramount.

Another feast. Another meeting. A queue of hunters and university students, the line stretching around the castle, my subjects eager to welcome their prince home.

Finally, a visit to another part of the castle. One that my grandaunts must have heard of by now. While that trip had been overdue, it had also been a risk. To prevent widespread talk, I’d needed to make the effort look like an afterthought rather than a priority.

Be that as it may, the citizenry wanted to see me as often as my family did. It was not a request.

Doria spoke with concern. “You seem unhappy.”

“Lady Noelle shall be arriving in a fortnight. She and her kin are to be esteemed guests,” Silvia hinted. “You remember her, don’t you? The pretty one from the glacier province?”

“Her brother will be attending as well,” Doria added, prompted by my silence.

Either the sister or brother would have sufficed, if that arrangement were my desire. Yet only one preference dominated my mind, body, soul. One person.

The queens had hoped this news would alter my mood. I cast them a sidelong glance that declared otherwise, to which they exchanged fretful looks.

Doria broached, “We heard you’ve been visiting the fools quarter of the dungeon.”

“What else did your spies tell you?” I wondered.

“That you’re inspecting their living conditions—a transaction you didn’t discuss with us. Among other courses of action.”

That was true. To the former, I did not wish to implicate my grandaunts should people draw an unwelcome conclusion about my visit to the dungeon, however well I’d paced myself.

The latter invoked my dealings with Summer. To avoid suspicion, Poet, Briar, and Aire had remained on the mainland when I’d arrived. With their ship docked the whole time, no one had suspected them of a thing. Not even Summer’s oafish king or its astute queen.

Poet and Briar had assured me that Flare had set off on her tidefarer without incident. The news had buckled my limbs.

Several days later, the jester, princess, and knight had departed for Autumn while I met with a groveling but petulant Rhys and his better half, Giselle. Thereupon, I instigated the plan Flare and I had forged before parting ways.

To keep Summer’s nose out of The Phantom Wild, I had cited unknown diseases lurking in the forest, the contagions likely unresponsive to vaccination. Considering my warnings and experience as a castaway—not to mention an authority on illness—the report had shaken Summer. The court now believed its rainforest to be contaminated and wanted nothing to do with that realm. Not even seafarers and sand drifters would venture there.

Rhys had asked how Summer could atone for my so-called traumatic misfortune. In an alternate reality, lobotomizing the cocksucker would have been refreshing. In this reality, such a crime would complicate Season relations. Not that Summer stood a chance of winning a war against Winter. But neither was that the point.

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