Page 127 of Trick

Poet, indeed. I’d gotten us into this and blamed myself for not thinking quickly enough to shoot her down. I should have whipped up a word, a sentence, a fucking cough when I had the chance, instead of letting her walk us right to the precipice—then turn us right back around.

Apparently, I should have known better than to hope the princess wouldn’t be swayed. Verbal parries with me didn’t compare to debating with Royal elders.

Betraying this most tender of subjects hadn’t been Briar’s intention. If the regret in her eyes was any indication, her instincts had played little part in this.

But deliberate or not, her rationale made a choice and voiced it, jilting me in the process. How pitiful to think we could band together. I should have relied on myself, as I had been doing. I’d spent a year honing my power over this court; targeting others until they either feared me, respected me, or wanted me; and wheedling my way into Spring’s trust. For that, I didn’t need Autumn’s help.

Nay. I had wanted it. Disillusioned, moonstruck me had wanted her on my side. This woman—the one person who had backfired on me, who’d turned my motivations inside-out from the very beginning, who turnedmeinto the target.

No more, and never again. Once more, me against them.

I must have been picking the princess apart with my eyes, because heads banked from me to her. The Queens of Winter blinked. Autumn’s queen stared at the princess. Basil and Fatima festered in my direction. With a single verbal punch, I had offended every Royal at the table.

Under that horrendous mop of a mustache, the King of Summer gloated, taking black pleasure in watching my sovereigns reprimand me.

Aye. ’Twas a rare sight.

With my humor lost, I trod on thin ice. The princess and I both did, and from the perspectives of present company, over so paltry a topic.

If I persisted, I would dig a deeper grave. My temper would flare and override my cunning. It would lead me to spit things I’d regret later, possibly whilst I spent a day in the dungeon cooling my heels. Best-case scenario if I didn’t outright expose myself as a sympathizer.

We may not have rallied each figurehead, but we’d had Spring. We’d had my sovereigns in our fucking grasps.

Basil and Fatima dismissed me from the throne room. The princess finally located her spine and had the nerve to object, which her mother quelled by clasping Briar’s hand. Brilliant move, for my sweet thorn had done me enough favors today.

Inclining my head, I took measured steps to the door. Outside, I thundered down the corridor toward her suite, where I hid in a recess, waiting to ambush the shit out of her.

Two hours hence, she came.

Pausing in front of the door, Briar turned toward me at the same instant I turned away from her. I headed toward the first hidden panel available, thwacked my palm against it, and stalked inside. My pace forced her into a trot behind me. We cut into a tunnel and ascended a random stairway. I couldn’t care less where the fuck it led.

We spiraled high, our shoes beating the stones. By the time we reached a solitary door at the landing, my joints burned. No matter, for I threw open the barrier and flung myself inside, listening as she closed the door behind us.

My eyes scrolled across the room. Ah, the bell tower.

Arched lookouts cut into the four walls, offering a panorama of Spring. In the room’s center, a bloated instrument of song dangled, its girth promising a bloody death to one’s eardrums if they happened to wander here on the hour.

I stood there, contemplating the massive bell. “’Tis a wonder the Crown doesn’t use this room for torture,” I mused. “Punishment by a dozen gong-lashes. The considerable effect of noise is underrated—not that I condone torture. The sight of blood makes me woozy.”

“I realize you’re angry,” Briar defended from behind, her voice jabbing needles into my shoulder blades. “I did not expect the Decree to come up for discussion.”

“Did you already know how you felt about the matter? I’m told having a solid point of view helps when you’re taken off guard. By the way, I assume the Royals sanctioned the amendment and signed it. ’Tis splendid to know it’s gone into immediate effect.”

“A point of view needs backup, as in any debate,” she argued. “You could have cautioned me in the library to prepare better. Perhaps I would have found something of substance had I known to look harder, but you threw me into this!”

“One, I’ve every faith that you did your best in the archives. I’ve tried myself to unearth information that would help my case, to no avail. That you didn’t find anything isn’t the problem.

“Two, whilst I do have access to privileged intel, the Peace Talks are another matter. I’m not privy to an advanced schedule of their theatrics, though I’m flattered by your assumption. Three, forgive the professional fool for thinking he was doing something special for you.”

“I assumed you merely heard they were going to invite me—andthatwas the surprise,” Briar defended, her presence a cannon at my back. “I didn’t think you schemed them into it, but I should have. I should know you by now. Who are you to represent my business? Who are you to steer my fate? You undermined and mortified me!”

“Nay, I accomplished what you should have done for yourself,” I seethed, whipping around. “That’s what this is about. You’re smart and self-sufficient, but you let tradition cheat you. Mayhap that’s why we couldn’t find a fucking thing in the archives—because when you cling to past ways and past documents, there’s nothingnewto say!” I punctured the word by slamming my palm against the bell. “You want things to change, Briar? Then change them!”

“It’s complicated,” she yelled back.

“So is having a son, but I manage.”

“You’re speaking about one child. I’m speaking about seven monarchs and the principles of four kingdoms. That’s what I have against me.”

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