Page 99 of Burn

At which point, hundreds of heads swiveled in our direction. After what happened in the maple pasture, the courtiers hadn’t had a chance to process Jeryn’s arrival. But they fucking processed it now.

“Poet, Court Jester of Autumn.”

“Briar, Daughter of Autumn.”

“His Highness, Jeryn of the House of Northwall, Heir to Queens Silvia and Doria, Prince of Winter.”

Quite a mouthful. No wonder the man rarely said much. Everyone did it for him.

Insulated, dispassionate Winter was known to enter feasts without companions. To do otherwise signified partiality and a bias rarely associated with Jeryn’s systematic court. Murmurs and whispers floated across the orchard. Courtiers gawked at our trio, too stunned to maintain neutral expressions. Council members perked up, their capillaries bursting with approval. Eventually, the attendees collapsed to the grass, bowing and curtsying.

The moment they rose, our choreography began. The prince turned to Briar, lifted her free hand in his, and inclined his head. Amplifying his voice, Jeryn expelled two vital words. “Your Highness.”

I wouldn’t lie to myself. The barest contact between them set my teeth on edge. Not because I didn’t trust my thorn. Rather because anyone who touched the princess risked losing their liver.

Nonetheless, the declaration accomplished what we’d expected. It became airborne, commanding everyone’s attention and sending a buzz through the grove. Briar played her part, ducking her head as if she’d anticipated no less from her guest. Now that he’d accomplished the first task, she took the initiative and slipped her fingers from his.

Next, Jeryn nodded my way. “Court Jester.”

Raising my eyebrow like a question mark, I mirrored the action. “Well met, Winter.”

Outwardly, I performed. Inwardly, I restrained myself from decapitating him on the spot. In my periphery, the princess widened her eyes and gave me a private shake of the head, warning me to behave.

With our performance fully executed, Jeryn strode toward Avalea, his gait parting the crowd. Whilst they preoccupied themselves, observing Winter greet their queen at the banquet table, I tossed the princess an insubordinate wink.

She narrowed her eyes.You fiend.

My lips slanted into a grin.You enabler.

’Twas the princess’s fault for bewitching her lover with that dress. If I’d wanted to rip Winter’s paws from her, who could blame me?

As the night wore on, we promenaded, mingling with the nobles as we’d perfected before. With each passing hour between meal courses, the changes began. Courtiers eagerly welcomed us into their huddles, expressed relief for Briar’s recovery, complimented my fucking outfit, inquired whether I would divert them with verse during the upcoming revels, and commended us on inviting Winter to the festivities.

As for Jeryn, courtiers and council members flew to his side like sheep whilst he circulated with Briar’s mother. The residents fawned, welcomed the prince’s monosyllabic responses, and endured his superior stare, if only marginally.

Seasons. If I’d thought Aire was brooding, the hard-boiled First Knight was a ray of sunshine compared to this lone wolf. The soldier might have a tedious moral compass that violated my usual standards of corruption. But at least I didn’t have to deal with Aire randomly looting stomachs and extracting the vital organs of his troops.

And to be clear, I kept a severe watch on Jeryn. The second he rested a pinky on Briar’s head, that pinky would be cleaved from his hand, along with the rest of his most valuable limbs. In addition to those protective instincts, my retinas scorched as Briar switched with Avalea and joined Winter to make a few obligatory rounds.

Elated to see their princess standing in solidarity with a fellow Royal, the residents beamed, flocked, raved, paid verbal tribute, and did everything short of licking the prince’s balls and presenting him with a medal. Aye, the set of Briar’s jaw told me she wasn’t enjoying the proximity to Jeryn, would sooner stab her heel into his shin than get any closer. And the flat set of Winter’s mouth illustrated his underlying abhorrence for her values, in addition to this charade.

And yet. Until now, it had been the pair of us dominating this court. Although our clan—Avalea, Aire, Eliot, Cadence, Posy, and Vale—worked the orchard just as well for this campaign, Briar and I had been inseparable during gatherings.

My one consolation came from seeing the people sing Briar’s praises at last. Otherwise, envy pricked my spine like sweet thorns. Just as I despised the thought of anyone touching Briar, I also hated the thought of anyone deceiving, wooing, or conspiring with her.

That trickery wasourgame.

Several times, I reminded myself to acknowledge whichever closeted Autumn admirer was drooling at me. Numerous times, I dragged my gaze from Briar and Jeryn to whoever the hell was babbling. Thousands of times, I felt the electricity of her own stare.

By midnight, our eyes collided across the room. Briar’s attention spanned my attire, her complexion ripening with a delightful pink hue. She sketched the painted dagger slashing through my left eye as if it were made of licorice, then licked her lips.

The visual mollified my killer instincts, replacing them with a bolt of heat straight to my cock. Then and there, we turned this farce into something more pleasurable, a teasing sort of dance. For if the woman could schmooze alongside a prince, I could retaliate.

And she could react. Thus, the pull intensified between us. It stretched from her end of the grove to mine like a tug-of-war.

We sought one another’s attention by conversing with others and exaggerating those interactions. Like this, we engaged in yet another form of the forbidden. Until it became too much, prompting Briar to lower her lashes and fan them in my direction.

Unruly thoughts slinked into my mind. I let those thoughts ignite across my face, then seared my naughty gaze down her dress, openly flinging impure thoughts her way.

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