Page 7 of Trick

However, Mother’s lady was very much pregnant, and mine had taken ill and been unable to accompany me. This meant the clan that just exited the room would take up the gauntlet, should they be requested.

Well. Mother could have any one of them, if only for appearance’s sake.

For my part, I’d been granted the privilege to rule a kingdom. I could certainly tighten a corset by myself.

As for the ribbon, I strode to the dresser, fished the scarlet fabric from inside, and draped it across my wrist. The shade blazed as hotly as the one that specter had been wearing.

In The Dark Seasons, the gift of a ribbon symbolized a person’s esteem for someone they admired. But this didn’t feel like a gift. It seemed like a tease.

Or something more dangerous—like a target.

3

Briar

My skirt fanned around my legs and brushed the corridor’s tiled floor. In the hallway, ivy entwined the pillars and crept up the edifices the same way it did over the castle’s exterior. Alcoves exhibited stained glass windows that depicted the court’s numerous gardens.

I checked over my shoulder, making sure none of my assigned guards had caught sight of my departure. Despite the hidden passage leading to and from my suite—a safety measure constructed within a wall panel, as in every Royal apartment—one couldn’t be too certain of fleeing undetected.

The absence of moving shadows reassured me. I swerved forward, found the right outlet, and exited the castle. From there, I picked my way across one of the lawns and down a lengthy path toward the ruins of a tower.

It used to be connected to the stronghold centuries ago. Today, weeds shrouded the crumbling walls and fabricated an ancient garden. Fallen chunks of masonry and blooming hyacinths carpeted the expanse, and the once-great towers rose to only half their original heights. The structures loomed like broken teeth in a backdrop of stars. Centuries had reduced some foundations to mere splinters of stone, the facades embroidered in foliage.

Yet I liked it here. I liked the age of this rubbled memorial, the history it carried on its shoulders.

People rarely came here, which made it ideal for secrecy. I loved meeting him in this place—the timelessness of it.

One. Two. Three.

“Psst,” came the signal from behind.

My mood lifted. Rather thanpsstback—I was no longer a child—I wheeled toward the sound and tapped my foot rhythmically. I doubted it reached his ears, no matter how finely tuned. But there were too few instances in which I used my feet in a jaunty manner.

“Minion,” I whispered.

“Master,” he whispered back.

“Minstrel.”

“Monarch.”

Fingers tickled me in the ribs. I whirled to find Eliot kneeling, a lopsided grin spanning his face before he bowed his head. “Your Supreme Highness,” he quipped.

Momentarily, my own grin faltered. We’d been reuniting in this manner since that wonderful and terrible day when we were twelve years old. Yet I worried we couldn’t remain like this forever, exploiting our ranks in idle amusement.

“Soooo,” Eliot wondered. “May I rise?”

“You may,” I recited.

The second he got to his feet, the facade dropped. We chuckled, snatched each other into a tight hug, and I sank into his embrace. That unforgettable market afternoon from our childhood—and the weeks, months, and years of disguised letters that followed—tethered us to one another despite the distance.

Unforgettable Eliot. The sole reason I looked forward to visiting Spring. My one true friend.

And a transgression.

Treat one another with dignity, but do not stray from your class. Marry within your station and Season. Live and die there.

The Seasons maintained that standard. Our allied lands freed us from marriages of convenience. If any of us found ourselves in dire straits and required aid, we negotiated in other ways. An age-old treaty saw to that.

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