Page 90 of Burn

That miserable, useless, fucking heart.

Guttural sounds launched from my tongue. Over and over, I thrust the dagger through. The burlap fibers split. More sand gushed from its body, and my thoughts spiraled as that imaginary face became clearer.

Dropping the blade, I smashed my fist into the husk, clear through to the wood facade. Then again, and again, and again. Putting my whole weight into it, I rammed my knuckles into the enemy’s face, pain exploding in my hand and fluid oozing from the gashes. The sound of splintering wood and a howling wind funneled through my ears, and my joints felt as though they were being roasted on an open flame, yet my arm refused to stop. Not giving a wicked fuck, I hammered into the lifeless figure, the wall behind it cracking.

I cranked my arm back—and a set of fingers caught my bicep. With a grunt, I veered. My attention locked onto Aire’s, those solemn blue orbs reflecting my own glazed pupils. He’d scaled the training platform from the opposite end, where a set of rungs led to this suspension, situated nearby in case some tenderfoot novice got stuck or impaled.

Concern wrung across the knight’s face. The wind tousled his hair, and though he didn’t glance at the destruction behind me, the soldier didn’t need to. I saw it on his face, the damage I’d done, the lengths to which I had gone.

I gazed over my shoulder to what was left of the mannequin. Its face had been whittled down to a pulp of fabric, the whole thing ripped open and no longer resembling a human being. Behind my target, the wall had caved in, wood shavings hanging lopsided. I had punched my way through, crimson leaking down my knuckles.

Expelling a breath, I returned my gaze to Aire. “’Tis exactly what it looks like.”

The man watched me in troubled silence. “This is not how you shall triumph.”

“Nay. But I get a kick out of spectacles, and I tend to exaggerate my actions. Hence, it felt good to pretend. Ever done that?”

“No,” Aire merely replied. “Poet—”

“Fear not.” I gestured to the wreckage of the training course. “This was merely child’s play. If I meant serious business, this platform wouldn’t be standing any longer. As for the mannequin, it’s not as if I was slaying the actual king this time. Or the prince, for that matter. Not even the miserable fucks who slayed an innocent tonight.”

With the rest of the court, donning a mask was easy. By contrast, this knight’s perceptive gaze visibly peeled a layer from my exterior. “Except it wasn’t the king, the prince, or the murderers you were punishing.”

Shit. He needed to stop doing that. Frankly, I wasn’t in the mood to be transparent. “I’d quit while I was ahead,” I warned.

The knight gave me a look that testified how much he doubted that. “It was not your fault, Poet.”

To which, I grinned without humor. “Which part?”

My son’s nightmares. Briar’s banishment, then her poisoning.

Every born soul I still hadn’t freed from the hell in which they lived. The incinerated victim in the maple pasture, their life reduced to ashes before I could prevent it.

Tally all my errors, all the ways in which people had suffered because I hadn’t intervened fast enough, and all the ways it affected Briar, and all the ways my failures endangered Nicu. Not counting friends like Aire, Eliot, Cadence, Posy, and Vale. Itemize my mistakes, and scribes could fill an omnibus.

So. Which fucking part wasn’t my fault?

The soldier studied my expression and floundered. “I have spoken out of turn,” he grunted. “Apologies, Sir.”

“Poet,” I corrected. “I’m pissed off at the world, but I’d like to say we’re kin.”

Aire blinked. His gruff features relaxed enough for a hint of pride to show through, shortly before he cleared his throat. Nodding, he said, “Then permit me to say, Her Highness is also my kin.”

“Her Highness,” I quoted him. “Whereas I’ve been hearing the titles ‘Daughter of Autumn’ or ‘The Mad Princess’ bandied about. It appears most people would disagree with you there.”

“I am not most people.”

“I should hope so. My standards for friendship are high.”

“Your standards for everything are high.”

“Meh.” I flitted my fingers. “You say that like it’s a flaw.”

Aire glanced at the remote harvest fields, then back to me. “I have sworn an oath. The princess is still my sovereign, and I will continue to serve her, as will the troops. I’m glad to repeat how she has won them over fully.”

The corners of my mouth tipped upward. “Another thing we have in common.”

A congenial light flashed across his face before it melted into awareness. In that moment, I saw what he sensed. Beyond the bracket of his shoulder, a slender figure materialized several feet behind him from the same set of rungs, her hair a red lantern amid eventide’s indigo sky.

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