Page 17 of Burn

The Lost Treehouses.

Our sanctuary. Yet perhaps our detriment too.

Despite the majestic abundance of color and the rustic cabins looming overhead, a dark haze shrouded the outer terrain, and the trees seemed to be watching us. My fingers tightened on the reins. I recalled the lore of this abandoned realm, excitement and trepidation colliding in my breast. For all their etherealness, fairytales had their ghastly sides. Both existed here. That was why no one ventured to this part of the wild, and although it was a risk, the isolation would protect us.

So long as we respected this land, it would respect us back. The test would be to learn how.

My friends’ jaws dropped as they aligned their horses with mine.

“Holy shit,” Eliot muttered.

“Seasons,” Cadence exclaimed. “What is this place?”

My lips moved, speaking in a hushed tone. “This is our new kingdom.”

9

Poet

Flames spread and crawled high, engulfing the castle walls. Brick and glass melted. Maple trees ignited, their canopies blazing like torches. The inferno consumed the castle, smoldering it to cinders. In the destruction’s wake, the king’s words returned to me.

We created fire.

Screams tore through the haze. Yet not a single body materialized, the chaos invisible to my eyes. From across the distance, I only saw her.

The pyre writhed between us, forming a barrier. But fuck that. For if we burned, the princess and jester would do it together. I broke from my stance and thrashed against the blaze whilst she did the same. As the fire snapped at us like fangs, we treaded heat and smoke, fighting our way to each other.

When only a few inches separated us, she leaped for me. I thrust out my arms, ready to grab the princess. But instead of catching my thorn, something flew from her fingers and landed in mine.

A dozen needles bit my flesh, and a rose rested in my grip. The color bloomed as red as her hair, as scarlet as the ribbons around our wrists, and as crimson as my blood. The barbs pricked my flesh, yet the flower glinted in the firelight, impervious to the blaze.

Like a weapon. Like a shield.

There were two of us. But only one rose.

My gaze ripped toward the princess, who nodded as the fire swallowed her. Stubborn female, always sacrificing herself.

Her name ruptured from my chest, yet no sound came out. She dissolved to ashes whilst I stood there, protected by a single rose that pierced my skin with its very sweet thorns.

The stinging sensation intensified—and broke me from the delirium. My eyes tore open as I launched upright off the bed. My chest pumped oxygen, heavy pants punched from my mouth, and sweat varnished my bare chest. Whipping my head backward, I gawked at the paneled ceiling and waited for my pulse to slow.

Another nightmare. I scrubbed my face with one hand, then grunted as something sharp jabbed the other palm. Glancing down, I found the rose trapped in my death grip. A single thorn had embedded itself in my thumb, a bead of blood trickling from the wound.

The Spring rose I had set on Briar’s pillow. My head clicked to reexamine the suite with its balcony and atheneum of bookshelves, home to countless titles and illuminated manuscripts. As if I needed additional proof, the scent of apples wafted from the linens.

I had stumbled here and fallen asleep. That explained why I still wore my leather pants. Had I been in my own chambers, I would have been naked, but swaggering across the hall with my ass and cock in plain view would have violated the Autumn guards’ modesty. This wasn’t Spring, after all.

Instead, I had stumbled here exhausted, shirtless, and bare-footed. In that state, I’d climbed into her scent and passed out.

My tongue flicked at the bloody droplet rising from my finger, my palate wiping it clean and tasting the mark she’d made on me. I must have snatched the rose in my sleep. Yet the flower showed no sign of having been crushed, its petals flawlessly smooth. Flora lived longer in Spring than in any other Season. With this one, the thorns grew more polished, more honed with age. Not to mention its other fine attributes.

I spun the rose by its stem. “That’s why I picked you.”

Across the suite, muffled commotion drifted from Briar’s wardrobe. My head lanced toward the sound of hectic movements—thuds and some type of weight hitting the floor.

Guards patrolled the Royal wing’s foyer. Nevertheless, I’d made sufficient enemies in this court. Moreover, Autumn tended to be more resourceful than the Spring residents who used to show up at my door for bribes or sex.

I slid my fingers to my calf and gripped the hilt of a dagger. The blade flashed as I eased it from the harness. Slithering out of bed, I stalked sideways through the shadows.

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