Page 10 of Burn

“What I did to Rhys,” I prompted, lightning my tone. “Is anger the only emotion it made you feel?”

When I glanced back, Avalea compressed her lips, withholding a grin. A tired laugh escaped us. However, the noise got lost among the sound of a cage door groaning shut and iron keys jangling.

I quieted my voice. “Despite the lack of witnesses, you’re right. I imagine my incarceration on the same evening Summer was torched will cause talk, not to mention my presence at that very event. I can’t wait to hear the public reason you’ve drafted for these shackles I’m wearing. More importantly, I hope the lie makes me look good.”

Likewise, the queen lowered her tone. “You were having a time-sensitive meeting with me this evening, and we arrived on the scene together. At which point, you made an unfavorable comment about Rhys’s injuries, and I sought to rectify your attitude for the night. That will show I’m an impartial sovereign who respects the Summer King, thus the ruse will keep you alive. And I grant, you have a point about Rhys; he’ll go along with the charade.”

Naturally, he would. As I’d said, far be it from his pride to admit the Court Jester is the reason he currently resembles a slice of toast. However much Rhys would like to see me eviscerated at dawn, it won’t be at the expense of his reputation. Nay, he’ll seek compensation by other unknown means.

“About the particulars of the ‘accident,’” Avalea began. “That will require another gambit. I assume you have that bit plotted out?”

I pretended to give it thought. “The King of Summer took a night walk and ended up in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Lightning struck the illustrious maple under which he’d been standing. Hence, he went up in flames.” I wiggled my crimson-stained fingers. “Etcetera, etcetera.”

“An elaborate falsehood,” Avalea concluded. “I would inquire how you fabricated the fire. But considering the parcels of Summer tinder Rhys brought to kindle the flames in his suite, I can guess.”

As with every Season, nature had its lethal side. In this court, spontaneous combustion wasn’t among such disasters. That form of dark, organic magic belonged to Summer, and because Rhys compulsively preferred to outfit his chambers with special tinder from his nation rather than simply use Autumn kindling, I’d developed a case of sticky fingers. Swiping what I’d needed in advance had made the task of creating a pyre much easier, Summer tinder and Autumn lightning having a rather conductive relationship.

Ultimately, the court would scarcely link the incident to me, the queen, or anyone else with a presumed motive. It had been a simple case of the elements. Again, no one ever questioned the will of nature.

“As for witnesses, there are none I’m worried about,” I intoned.

“None that you’re aware of,” Avalea contested. “Kings don’t venture outdoors unmanned.”

“I imagine Rhys gave explicit orders for his guards to fuck off and leave him alone,” I dismissed. “He’s not known to be merciful when disobeyed. Of course to prevent any curious nobles or resistant soldiers from intercepting, rumors about his penchant for punishment might have been embellished.”

“And just who is responsible for those rumors?”

Slowly, a smirk dove across my face.

Avalea concealed another grin. “Convenient.”

“Poor Rhys was already in the pasture, blessedly unaware of his near demise. At which point, nature took over and got in the way. So you do see; I’m a livid jester who’s been reckless, but not so reckless as to compromise myself or anyone who matters. I have a son to protect, after all. A princess, as well.”

Avalea had been studying me, impressed. But then sadness weighed down her face. “When will you stop doing that?”

My eyebrows pinched together. “Be more specific. The list is long.”

“You haven’t spoken her name once.”

My joints tightened, the crusted wall dug into my back, and a muscle ticked in my jaw. At length, I recovered, but only just. “Rhys was looking for something in the pasture.”

Before Avalea could insist that I acknowledge her comment, I forged ahead and recounted how I’d followed the king, saw Rhys trace one of the tree trunks, and watched him fondle the surface in anticipation.

Awareness dawned across the queen’s countenance. “He was searching for the tunnels.”

Fuck. The tunnels.

Like every castle, Autumn’s fortress had secret passages embedded into its walls, outlets for its residents to escape during a siege. Except those channels were confidential, privy only to a select few.

The queen’s brow furrowed. “But how would he know about the tunnels?”

Oh, I could fucking guess. I gave the woman a meaningful look until her eyes broadened. “The Masters.”

It had to be. Ancestors of those so-called elite crafters had drafted and constructed the castle’s passages, then likely passed down the knowledge to their successors. Briar had said as much when she’d explained the guild’s history. As traitorous spies working for Rhys, naturally they had reported the tunnels’ existence to Summer.

Avalea glanced away in thought. “But then, Summer would already know where to locate them. He wouldn’t have to search.”

“In which case, I’ll amend. He knew where they were but sought to verify it.”

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