“Sir,” he vented. “What the fuck—”
“Behave like a knight,” I bit out. “Not like a slacker.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Sloppy swordsmanship and lewd behavior while on duty isn’t the way of Autumn. If you’re going to support us in battle, make yourself worthy by advancing your skills instead of flaunting your vocabulary. The latter will only get you bedded. But the former will actually serve this army.” The warning corroded on my tongue. “Keep your fraternizations off the field.”
His confusion segued, an overweening smirk creeping across his face. “Huh,” the male condescended. “Funny. Aspen never mentioned having a daddy who was commander of the guard. Not even while she was riding my cock.”
My retinas fired. A carnivorous noise pushed across my lips, compressing hard enough to pulverize rocks. That alone shut him the fuck up, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork.
I enunciated slowly. “Talk about her—or any female in this court—like that again, and you’ll forfeit bragging rights once my sword castrates you down to the ballocks.”
Rhun-or-Racoon forced himself to nod. “Sir Aire.”
“Out,” I gritted. “Now.”
The hotshot took his overdue leave, strutting off like a petulant trainee who expected to get ahead in life faster than reality or reward permitted. Later, I would instruct my captains to tighten the reins on that one.
The moment he left, my contempt died a swift death. Seizing a chink in the wall, I leaned forward and bowed my head in repentance.
Many moons ago, I had drawn blood instinctively, during times of strife and in the name of valor. Bereavement had since altered that course, diluting the impulse to choose massacre over mercy. Apart from unescapable circumstances or threats to my kin, no longer did the former means of heroics hold appeal. If I could avoid taking a life or resorting to violence, I endeavored to do so.
Until today.
I hadn’t wanted to offend Aspen by intruding, had seen plainly the female’s continual ability to save herself, and had been transfixed by the evidence. I took pleasure in watching the troops rally around her, viewing Aspen in all her glory.
But when her partner exercised his lecherous tongue, I bristled. And when the sexual banter degraded his combat performance, I hadn’t been able to contain myself.
It was the premonition. That had to be the culprit.
All this time, the omen had shadowed me. Aspen deserved no less than the worthiest opponents to expand her talents. And while she needed no one to explain this aspiration, I hadn’t stressed the gravity of it, hadn’t clarified why I fixated on this.
You will fail to protect her.
If that came to pass, I must at least advocate for knights more invested in training than her lover. In which case, I should have handled this better. No soldier allowed fury to guide their actions, for that would get them killed quickly. Harbinger or not, I had no excuse for my overreaction, this breach in my code of conduct.
“Seasons forgive me,” I prayed to the ground.
Repelled by my actions, I washed off the dust and grime. Exchanging the vest for a silk shirt hidden beneath a fitted doublet of iron gray, then shrugging into a dark velvet surcoat bearing my insignia, I set off for the library wing. Murmurs drifted through the castle halls. Hand-knit runners muffled my footfalls, the scent of cardamom and pears wafted through the wainscoted corridors, and flaming sconces etched oil paintings in muted light.
My spirits lifted. Home, at last.
Nobles shuffled by in brocade finery and headdresses. They extended greetings, their expressions alighting at myreturn, several discreet glances toward my physique reddening their complexions. Autumn admirers peeked as much as Spring did, except the residents of this nation did not exploit their attractions.
Stepping into the library wing, I threaded around reading chairs and librarians clutching leather-bound volumes. Built-in cases housed countless titles, each one embossed with decorative symbols, their edges painted in gold leaf.
The broadswords rested against my spine. My gaze panned across the stacks, hunting for signs of unrest. Other than a quill pen or letter opener, no one carried potential weapons.
Reassured this area was secure, I hastened along a narrow passage toward a door embellished with a heavy maple leaf carving. Sentinels guarding the entrance genuflected while I pushed open the partition, anticipation brimming across my flesh.
The meeting room glowed with firelight from the mouth of an eight-foot tall hearth. Murals of copper foxes and bountiful trees embellished the coved ceiling, deep green wallpaper patterned in leaves extended from paneling, and starlight filtered through the high windows. More bookshelves embedded into the walls, and a long table spanned the central rug, around which a set of ornate chairs stood empty.
As the doors shut behind me, I frowned. Had I entered the wrong room?
Movement to my right drew my gaze. A dark silhouette stared out the window, his back facing me. Over a pair of sable brown pants, a deep orange coat hugged his shoulders, the tips of his shaggy layers brushing the fluted collar.
Poet.
