A yolk of light crept from beneath the dwelling’s shutters. Because detecting Aspen’s essence wasn’t an option, I sought the lingering aroma that naturally wafted from her cloak. Notes of melted iron and myrrh.
Nothing of the sort. No residual fragrance, shifts in the bracken, or echoes of her presence.
She had retired indoors. She was safe.
Yet she hadn’t been out here alone.
Earlier, a putridness had infested the woods. Not long after, it vanished like an illusion. Matter of fact, I’d ceased detecting its sinister presence since crossing weapons with Aspen and shepherding her home.
Whether or not she had known the perpetrator’s identity was up for debate. She spun enough lies to author an epic novel. Armed with that dishonest tongue, it was easy for her to lead any quarry astray.
I possessed the capacity to read every courtier, servant, and warrior on this continent. Involuntarily, I sensed their auras and moods. Yet I was hardly omniscient. As I’d confessed to Aspen, I could not read her.
Confusion pulled my thoughts in opposing directions. Yesterday, Aspen mentioned plans to work in her forge. That bit about the vise bruising her could be legitimate, as well as the denial that she’d known who was out here. Criminals existed in Autumn like any other nation in The Dark Seasons. To be hunted in the woods hardly counted as a unique tale.
Having caught sight of Aspen’s retreating back at the revels, I went after her. Delayed by several well-wishers, I had missed the girl’s stalker by minutes, forfeiting the opportunity to confirm a forsaken thing.
Dismounting enabled my stallion to quench his thirst from a spring. I remained until dawn, patrolling the cottage as the sun rose like an amulet, funnels of light cleaving through the branches. No length of time satisfied me. Not until the breeze rustled my jacket collar, light and weightless.
The wind. Yet another clandestine skill I had inherited. The atmosphere communicated to me in its own language.
At last, I lowered the broadswords. Whatever threat I’d discerned had long since dissipated. The gutless piece of shit who tracked Aspen through the wild had disappeared, likely a random crook who registered her axe, my broadswords, or both.
The castle’s tower horn resounded, heralding a new day. I’d vacated the farewell revels. Though by that time, the nobles had been tipping back flagons, dancing, feasting, and promenading through the orchards.
Add certain couples to this equation, and I’d wager they left the festivities not long after me, for one exclusive purpose: to engage in intimacy.
Loudly. For a very long time.
Two pairings came to mind. Poet and Briar. Jeryn and Flare.
At any rate, the clan anticipated me at breakfast before my deployment. I abhorred leaving Aspen unguarded, yet the girl was right. She wielded that axe like a virtuoso and would someday make an even greater opponent. Until then, she had the clan and the skills to defend herself. I wouldn’t denigrate the maiden by discrediting that.
Nonetheless, I wavered until the horn’s final call. I might have delayed longer, but for one thing. One eternal priority.
Nicu.
My liege and my friend. The Royal Son’s safety came first. I had made that pledge from the time he was a child.
To this end, a quest awaited me. One that would unearth treasonous warriors, dismantle the Summer King’s plot to resurrect his power, and ensure a peaceful future for The Dark Seasons. For Nicu.
Sheathing the broadswords into my scabbards, I mounted the stallion. While throwing one final glance at the cottage, a renewed ache gripped my chest.
The whetstone, forgotten in her hand. Her dismissal impaling me like a dagger.
I compressed my lips, stifling a grumble, smashing the hurt to pieces. With a glower, I jerked the horse around and flew through the woods.
Let it pass. Let it go.
These affirmations spurred me forward. They drove me to the castle, persisting into late morning as I bade the clan farewell, then galloped in a new direction. Although my heart clenched, I would not look back, would not turn to see the fellowship watching from the Royal balcony. For all that I treasured every member of the clan, getting overly attached to anyone posed too dire a risk. If I ever foundered in my duty to protect them, the loss would be harsher, the pain enduring.
I had already suffered this bereavement once before. I would not allow it again.
Days. Years.
They would pass. During this interim, I prayed my newly forged family would stay safe, and the dark omen infecting my mind wouldn’t come to pass.
You will fail to protect her.
