Briar rethought the matter. “My husband’s right.”
“Do I get a treat, Highness?”
Glimpsing the subtle curve of Poet’s lips, the princess tossed him a look saturated in enough diplomatic heat to light a bonfire, thus implying he would find out later. “Then indeed, it’s plausible the targets are fellow knights still loyal to Autumn.”
The notion produced a twinge in my gut. I could not deny this logic.
“That they avoided capture half the time proves they somehow anticipated me,” I concluded. “As for any ambushes they had planned to cause, even if they’d been hellbent on small massacres, the spontaneous endeavors were futile. Upon tracking their movements, it appears they never actually succeeded in staging these attacks. For there were no targets to be found in those intended areas. One might think the traitors had been given the wrong directions.”
The moment Aspen shifted, I speared my gaze toward her. “Is there something you’d like to share with us?”
As if the others rarely noted her body language, the female straightened. “No.”
“Because I’ve never known your smartass mouth to remain shut.”
“You haven’t been here to monitor my smartass mouth in a long time.”
My gaze slid to the anatomy in question. “That can be rectified.”
Aspen parted her lips to retaliate when another voice interrupted. “We have a spy.”
9
Aire
Everyone pivoted toward Nicu. The young Royal slanted his head, his eyes jumping across the map with no distinguishable sequence. He could not understand the rendering’s scale. Neither the placements, nor the distances between Seasons.
But he did understand patterns.
With the rebellious confidence of his parents, Nicu dismissed the map’s layout. In contrast to the rest of us, he didn’t limit himself to logistics. Rather, he focused on motives instead of locations.
Spurred by the clan’s attention, Nicu followed the overhead garland of ribbons toward the doors, then pointed at the exit and beyond. “Someone is sending hushes to Rhys.”
Someone was telling the king secrets. A sharp deduction. Apparently, we’d been overthinking the complexities instead of consulting the obvious.
Poet’s mouth tipped as if his son had earned a standing ovation. Briar’s irises shone with esteem.
Flare’s face alighted in comprehension, and Jeryn frowned—his version of impressed or dubious. It was difficult to say which.
I grinned, bowing my head toward Nicu. “Well met.”
“You exceed us all,” Poet acclaimed.
Nicu quirked his lips. “I’m not done yet.”
“This theory makes no fucking sense,” Jeryn revoked after a second thought. “If Rhys has been deploying this covert troop to areas where there are no Autumn units to ambush, what is the point? An allied spy wouldn’t lead Summer astray.”
“A good spy wouldn’t,”Flare countered, forming the words slowly.
“But a saboteur would,” Poet expanded in a low timbre. “Keeping one’s enemy close tends to benefit the deceiver. In which case, they would play a chess game with that witless motherfucker.”
“Misdirect the troop from successful ambushes. In the same breath, help that troop evade Aire,” Briar summarized. “One action defies Rhys, while the other supports him. It might appear counterproductive, but it’s not.”
Jeryn anatomized that statement. “Balance victories with defeats. The strategy enables this saboteur to maintain a convincing front, so Rhys won’t suspect them of duplicity.”
“Especially if there’s a long-term objective,” I ventured. “Although delivering the traitors to me would defeat Rhys quicker, it’s not in the saboteur’s interest. The question is why.”
“Maybe the chap’s got an axe to grind,” Aspen suggested. “If he’s pissed off at the king and has decided to thwart Summer’s plan as payback, maybe he wants to draw out Rhys’s suffering, slowly drag him through the mud. Otherwise, this mole would have identified himself to us. If it had anything to do with the equality of born souls instead of a personal grudge, we’re an ideal group to be partnered with.”
