Page 201 of Dare

Their son crashed into Flare, who welcomed his hug. “Sun empress,” he greeted. “Your eyes have lit a fire.”

“And yours have given it warmth,” she gushed, having discovered Nicu’s inherent skill for reading her lips.

The boy launched my way, expecting the same treatment. “Frost king!”

“No,” I said, the word stalling him from coming near.

Poet rolled his eyes as if I were useless. While children did not intimidate me, I’d hardly ever claimed to be a doting individual.

Not that it ultimately dissuaded Nicu, who pasted himself to my side anyway. “Do you have a fallen star for me?”

“He means a snowflake,” Flare explained for my benefit.

While no one else heard her, they grasped the nature of our exchange. Frowning, I glanced at the princess for aid, who pantomimed and encouraged me to hug him back.

Awkwardly, I patted the boy’s shoulder. “Er, there there.”

Poet pointed toward his son and disclosed to Briar, “He did not get his taste in kings from me.”

Stimulated by everyone’s presence, Nicu unpeeled himself from my arm and shouted, “Party!”

“Ah,” the jester gloated. “Now that, he got from me.”

The boy raced to Aire. “Come spin, but leave your wings here.”

Apparently spin meant dancing, and wings referred to Aire’s broadswords. Unsheathing his weapons, the knight set them beside the pit. “At your service, my liege.”

As Nicu yanked on his sleeve and dragged him away, Avalea sighed. “Nicu shall miss him.”

Aspen’s head veered between the queen and knight. “Miss him?”

“When Aire’s gone,” Briar clarified with a wistful expression. “Gathering intel on Rhys’s budding army means traveling for a long time.” She twisted toward her husband. “We must do something special to bid him farewell. Once the time comes.”

“Aye.” Poet grinned like the devil. “Aire loves being the center of attention.” He jutted his chin at me. “Much like Mr. Personality over there.”

Flare’s shoulders shook with mirth. My gaze skewered the jester, but Aspen’s voice cut off my chance to retaliate.

“For how long?” she asked.

“Months,” Poet guessed. “Years.”

“It’s too soon to tell,” Avalea informed.

Aspen went still, her expression impossible to gauge beneath the hood.

The queen abandoned her seat and approached the group as they formed a circle dance. The jester purred something into his wife’s ear and pulled her into the fray. At the last minute, Briar snatched Flare’s arm and hauled her with them.

Twisting over her shoulder, my little beast gazed at me with bright eyes. “Come,” she said.

“Soon,” I rasped.

I wanted to watch her first. Happy. Free. Like this, I could stare at my woman for eternity.

As Flare melted into the revels, the corner of my mouth lifted, then dropped as Aspen approached her axe, its blade still affixed to the branch. Witnessing Aire grin at something the ladies said, Aspen ripped her weapon free and charged through an abutting gate.

But while the girl’s sporadic departures were common, Flare spotted her leaving. She caught my eye, worry creasing her face and resurrecting our earlier exchange. Silently, we communicated. It didn’t hurt to know more.

I nodded to Flare and strode in the female’s wake. Halfway down a neighboring lawn, I located her retreating form. “Stowaway.”

---