Page 120 of Burn

Yet my head whipped toward them, and they halted at the deadly cut of my stare. “Cute,” I pretended to compliment before my features collapsed, darkening with the promise of violence. “But don’t be absurd.”

Briar’s hands twitched, arrested in the act of reaching for her thorn quills. Aire and Jeryn had shoved closer. Basil and Fatima raised their palms in silent command, thus stalling their knights. Avalea had leaped nearer to her daughter.

And Giselle did nothing. Neither did she defend her husband, nor did she object. At once, I recalled the perceptive frown she’d given Rhys, back when Briar was banished. Even then, she must have suspected the king of fuckery.

None of which the woman had contributed in. That much was clear.

My gaze swerved back to the knights, waiting until they disarmed. As they did, a feature about Spring’s armor snagged my attention. Something hadn’t sat right with me when I’d passed them earlier.

Now I saw it. And more.

The agitated looks on their faces. How the knights braced their weapons like cooking spoons. And most distinctly, the fucking ivy-strewn flora symbols on their surcoats.

My nostrils flared. Wordlessly, I summoned Briar’s attention and jutted my chin toward the vestments. The princess’s brows crinkled until she registered the details, then her frown unraveled with the same epiphany.

We might have had no evidence beyond what Jeryn got from his soldier, in addition to the proclamations we extracted from the Masters. But this would fix that.

Back on my first night in this castle, I’d invented hand signals with Briar, gestures to use whenever too many eyes and ears were aimed at us. We had employed this method on the Masters. Even before that, we’d exercised those gestures against Rhys when he blackmailed us.

Casually, Briar flicked an invisible speck of dust from her bodice.Humor them.

At the cue, my mouth tipped sideways. “Hmm,” I murmured, easing my stance and pretending to admire the knights’ wardrobes. “Such posh armor. I confess, I’m feeling rather nostalgic for my former nation. I’d forgotten how swanky you all look whilst defending your sovereigns. I especially appreciate the embellishments on your surcoats.” Twirling my finger at the adornments, I asked, “Wherever did you acquire such intricately stitched patches?”

One of the knights wavered. When Basil reluctantly nodded to the man, commanding him to answer, the soldier muttered, “Tailor in the lower town. Near the west brothel.”

“Close to the Dragonfly Pavilion,” I praised. “Lovely. I know both establishments well.”

Rhys barked out a malicious laugh, ignorant of the perceptive frowns Basil and Fatima traded. “Behold the pointlessness of a jester. A profession as burdensome and expendable as the creation of born fools. Trivia and frivolity will not win you clout in this argument.”

“If you insist.” Leaning over the table, I set my palms delicately on the surface. “’Tis a fact. Spring is an opulent citizenry, often fixating on wardrobes. Except for one problem.” My head cocked, and my grin dropped. “A Spring knight wouldn’t patronize a tailor.”

The soldier blanched, as did his comrades.

Rhys’s eyes bulged, and he threw an order at the knights despite not having the jurisdiction. “Out.”

“For textiles, that knight would commission a needleworker.” Casually, I gestured to the surcoats. “Who wouldn’t be caught dead fabricating Spring symbols into cheap patches.”

“Out now.”

“Because the ivy and flora would be embroidered, as they are for every surcoat.”

Rhys’s octave blasted to the ceiling beams. “Leave. This. Building!”

Hay straws tumbled across the grass as the knights fled toward the doors. Aire moved with the velocity of a windstorm. He blocked the imposters’ retreat, tipping his broadswords at their throats as if to say,Try it.

My eyes skewered Rhys. “You didn’t even have the decency to cast Spring’s most proficient performers. Instead, you went after a bunch of novices. ’Twas rather foolish of you, to assume amateurs could impersonate the real thing, even if the nation excels in artistry. Even more foolish to flaunt your sloppy mistakes in front of the Court Jester, who can tell the stage garb of a rookie thespian from the suit of an expert warrior. After all, this infamouswhore—” I rested my palms on my chest, “—has bucked, sucked, and fucked plenty of the latter. Because let’s not forget, Spring is first and foremost a court of sin and sex, two subjects you know shit about.”

But when the king opened his beak, I murmured, “Whatever you’re planning to say, I highly recommend against it. Our toys are sharper than yours.”

“Arrest these frauds,” Avalea commanded Aire, whilst Basil and Fatima gave their concession, and Giselle motioned for her own knights to do the same.

As Aire and the Summer troops corralled the faux Spring warriors from the building, I let my words cleave through the room and snatch Rhys by his testes. “Hear this, and listen well. Your advantages have become your disadvantages. Autumn has possession of them now.If you crossus, I’ll spread those vulnerabilities out on the table like props to play with. Am I making myself clear?”

“Sympathetic scum!” Rhys blared. “If you think I’ll quail before you, you’re not only misguided but delusional. This isn’t over!”

“Reveal your assassins,” Briar ordered, striding ahead of me. “Tell us who’s been violating Autumn.”

The king’s pupils reflected hatred and firelight from the lanterns. “You should have demanded that before exposing me!”

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