Page 62 of Burn

“I should like to think so,” she said proudly and defiantly, twisting to drop another kiss on the side of my throat before continuing her work. “I’m stealing your idea.”

To the contrary, she’d already done that when we first arrived in Autumn from Spring. Briar had ordered ribbons strung through the Royal wing for Nicu to follow. But this time, she’d extended them across the stronghold, only excluding the areas where it was risky or dangerous to go. It would give my son the chance to explore with Briar, albeit with precautions in mind, in case they got separated.

“I’m home,” Briar confided to me. “So let this be the first task achieved.”

The first task achieved. Although we’d been meeting with the council on a regular basis, those conferences had revolved around discussions and decisions. And whilst we’d been socially engaged with the court, it was still limited to the exchange of words, with hopeful intentions.

But a change that would take effect sooner rather than later? That was different. Out of a hundred accomplishments having to do with the court, the next guild of Masters, or a certain Summer fart at large, Briar intended for this moment to yield the first tangible result.

For the next hour, I hovered over the princess. Planting my palms on the tabletop, on either side of Briar, I collaborated and provided suggestions to help direct Nicu. As the sun pitched over the fields outside, the map came to life.

Finally, Briar released a contented sigh and set down the quill. Carefully, she blew on the parchment and held it aloft for my appraisal.

“Approved,” I murmured.

“Agreed,” she said.

Then she set aside the map and retired the quill. Anticipatory silence followed, in which I stared over the princess’s shoulder, mesmerized by her profile with its resilient features and tender expression. She was proud of this rendering, proud to do this for Nicu, and fucking proud to know him.

And in that second, every part of me—every ounce of blood, every thought, and every beat of my pulse—converged to one place. Two words took shape in that place, forming on my lips and then surging off my tongue in a whisper. “Marry me.”

21

Poet

Briar sucked in a breath and swerved toward me. Rather than widen in shock, her eyes glistened. We had agreed to keep things as they were—enemies who’d become lovers. Naught but a jester and princess, reigning together without sharing a crown or throne.

Yet at some point, between finding her sleeping beside my son and sketching this draft for him, I’d changed my fucking mind. And it appeared, so had she.

The princess’s throat worked. “I thought you didn’t want to be a king.”

“Tsk, tsk,” I said, kneeling. “Who said anything about being a king?"

Stunned, she breathed, “More riddles.”

“Supremacy isn’t my calling. Kingdoms deserve passionate rulers to lead them, whereas I’m a jester.”

“And I love who you are. I don’t need you to be anyone else.”

“Yet …” I skimmed the backs of my fingernails across her chin. “I can be your husband without being a monarch. We’ve broken rules before. This is merely another. In fact, we might as well have stopped keeping count at this point.” My digits etched every freckle down her neck. “You know how in ancient cultures, the lovers performed no ceremony?”

“I read about it once,” Briar said. “They simply found a place that was meaningful to them.”

“And there they made a promise, traded a token, and fucked until dawn,” I summarized. “That’s how the human mates cemented their bond. It wasn’t meant for others to bear witness. Only them.”

“No ceremony?” she tried to joke, her voice clogging. “You?”

“It’s remotely possible,” I quipped. “This is between you and me, a sacred bond meant solely for us. You be the ruler, I’ll be the trickster, and let us show the world there’s no difference between those ranks.” My hands scaled through the flames of her red hair. “Your thoughts are my thoughts. Your touch is my touch. Your pain is my pain. Your bliss is my bliss. Your life is my life.” I cupped the back of her scalp. “I don’t give a fuck about being a king. What I want is to be your ally and equal in every sense. Most of all, I’ll be wholly, utterly, completely yours.”

“Poet.”

“And I want you to be mine.”

Mine. The word filled my mouth. Half-benediction, half-growl.

Briar shuffled closer and rested her forehead against my own, and whilst I braced myself for something akin to reason, for this woman to talk sense into me, for her to gently reject what I’d laid bare, the princess did what she always had. She surprised the shit out of me.

Speaking in a faint, secretive tone, Briar uttered, “Yes.” And when I blinked, flabbergasted, a small chuckle escaped her. “Yes, Poet.”

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