Page 183 of Trick

“I don’t want to conceal what we have,” Briar persisted. “Not again, and not in my court. It may take years, but someday the people will accept it.”

“We’ll have enough of a battle ahead with our grand plans for humanity,” I countered. “Pushing those limits will leave scant room for much else.”

“Like you said, a princess has harsher things to deal with. Riots, assassins, dissention—”

“Indeed, those will be on the agenda. If so, I’ll need my energy to dismember anyone who gets near you or Nicu. Where you’re both concerned, I tend to do things thoroughly, which means however much I’d love the task, I can’t have my stamina depleted by making you come every night.”

Briar flushed. Reproach nevertheless dug into her face. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“You’re trying to distract me.”

“Get used to it, sweeting.”

“And I can look out for myself.”

“I know you can,” I assured her. “That doesn’t mean I won’t take up where you left off and do damage to anyone who so much as sneezes in your direction. That’s what allies do, if not lovers.”

“I don’t want you only as an ally or a guardian.” Briar cleared her throat. “But thank you for wanting to protect me.”

“My pleasure.” I quirked a naughty brow. “Always,mypleasure.”

Her flush deepened. “The court doesn’t have to celebrate us. But if I prove myself as a Royal, they’ll respect my choices.”

“Once upon a spicy time, a princess and a jester fell in love,”I narrated.“They waited a lifetime to have their court’s blessing, the jester watching and waiting as the princess grew into her role. Soon enough, her days became busier, filled with new faces and obligations. She met warriors and noblemen, debated with them at roundtables, and invited them to the revels. She received her peers and her subjects, with less and less freedom to idle in the arms of her jester. By the time they realized they’d grown apart, the feast had grown cold.”

“That won’t happen,” she insisted.

“’Tis how these stories end, as they aren’t truly stories.”

“I know you don’t want to be a king.”

“Good Seasons, nay,” I balked. “I am, and will always be, a jester.”

“Fine. But you know you’re so much more than a centerpiece to rulers—so much more tome. And Mother reigns without a husband. Queens can be leaders on their own.”

That wasn’t unheard of in our history. Ever since the Seasons were united a century ago, power and peace hadn’t required alliances.

Elitist standards, on the other hand, were quite welcome.

“You’re willing to forsake a king in favor of a fallen jester,” I summarized. “A lowborn orphan with a so-called bastard ‘fool’ of a son. There couldn’t be a worse combination to toss at the people.”

“I don’t see either of you that way.”

“I know, but ’tis how your world shall see us.”

“That’s bullshit!” she spewed rather impressively. “You cultivated power and influence in Spring. The people are upset with you now, but eventually that will fade. Don’t deny that if given the choice, most denizens would ultimately follow you over the Crown. If you can do that here, you can do that in Autumn. The only difference is we’ll be on level with each other.”

“I hate to admit this, but Sinful Spring isn’t as morally strict as Proper Autumn.”

“The court won’t disapprove forever. You’re Poet. You can bewitch anybody. And I’m a smart leader. I can sway the rest. And when the day comes, I’ll appoint an heir, because I don’t have to give birth to one. I’ll be married to Autumn and loving you.”

My throat contorted. “That’s not enough.”

“What?” she gasped, recoiling from me as though I’d slapped her.

I snatched her wrists. “Listen to me, Briar.”

---