Page 183 of Dare

And if I succeeded, I would never leave my woman.

Only one thing guaranteed I wouldn’t succumb to this. Flare was free. That liberty would not last if I abandoned this life, no matter how much I craved her.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured Silvia and Doria. “Rather, someone is coming here.”

“Who?” Silvia asked.

The one couple I needed on my side. To enact a plot that had been outlined in the ruins, in a dining hall with five other inhabitants.

Social and medical reform was a momentous undertaking, a gamble that would involve not only the queens and myself, but our reluctant council and a host of enemies. To make a solid case to Winter, I needed an irrefutable strategy and more than facts or figures.

No. This degree of treason required allies.

Winter needed Autumn.

54

Jeryn

Three days later, the terrace’s double doors swept open. Only this time, a different pair of visitors stepped onto the platform.

Solstice halted at the threshold, made the proper announcements, and moved aside. The two figures materialized, a drizzle of snow falling around them.

Poet’s raven jacket clutched his athletic frame, with a matching scarf trimmed in wide ruffles flouncing from the high collar. His fitted black leather pants, sterling-embellished boots with heels, and leather gloves stitched in a motley pattern of black and sterling completed the outfit.

A red crown of braids encircled Briar’s head, and a charcoal fur mantle hugged her frame, with gray suede gloves encasing her fingers. From her earlobes, platinum stars dangled.

My hand grasped the railing so hard, the cement might crack. Yet I remained still, fighting to keep my gaze austere despite the palpitations.

The princess folded both hands in front of her, then dipped her head like a genteel Royal, the embodiment of sobriety and refinement. “Your Highness.”

Beside her, the jester perfected the same role. He arched an eyebrow—a painted blade sliced through the left orb—before inclining his head. “Winter.”

Well played. I gave them a curt nod. “Autumn.”

Behind them, Solstice vanished. At my instruction, the First Knight would take up residence at the medical den’s entrance. Far enough from this terrace not to overhear anything, but near enough that this meeting wouldn’t seem circumspect.

The doors sealed shut. The facade dropped.

Briar’s stately expression collapsed as she rushed to my side, with Poet close on her trail. Shifting from ceremonial to informal, the princess seized my hands without warning, the gesture of familiarity taking me off guard.

“Jeryn,” she whispered, puffs of frost falling from her mouth.

“Briar,” I replied, then nodded to her husband. “Poet.”

The jester stood behind his princess, with one hand braced on her hip. Not ten seconds in, patience fled me. Regardless of my exterior, they saw past the veneer, to where hysteria lurked. Another fucking second of waiting, and the terrace ledge would need repairs.

“We have not heard anything,” the princess supplied.

It was all I could to keep the anguish from cleaving through my visage. I had expected this blow, yet Flare’s optimism had rubbed off on me. I’d hoped my little beast had sent them a missive, something they could pass on to me. But indeed, the danger was too great, even in the safe keeping of a fauna messenger.

Poet and Briar had presumed I wouldn’t possess more information about Flare. It was even riskier to send me tidings directly.

The princess gave my digits an encouraging squeeze. “She must be safe then.”

By one account, this was true. If Flare had been recaptured in Summer, we would have heard about it.

Yet. Typhoons. Leviathans. Rapists. Anything else could happen.

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