Winter scanned her from across the table, his features probing like the tips of a fork. “How do you know it’s a male?”
She shrugged. “I don’t. But from my experience, men in power are either brutish, arrogant, or both. All of which point to a spy who’s fueled by testosterone and dealing with unresolved bad blood.”
“Brutish, arrogant, or both,” Poet repeated in a droll tone.
“Present company excluded.” Then the female glanced toward me. “Mostly.”
Button sufficiently pushed. Offended, I locked my jaw. “Based on the gentlemen you keep company with, I’m uncertain we can trust your judgement.”
“Who said I was interested in the company ofgentlemen?”
Each object in the room turned crimson. I would slice through every degenerate to whom she was referring.
“No one beyond our clan has been privy to Aire’s mission, much less to our conflict with Rhys,” Briar reasoned.
Flare wavered.“But seven years is too long to be sure of that.”
“Agreed,” the princess stated. “And I concur with Aspen.”
“As do I,” I murmured, my nape tingling as she fixed her stunned gaze on me. “This spy must be working against Summer out of self-interest.”
“Bad blood,” Nicu echoed Aspen’s comment. “But not blood that’s angry.” For a moment, he considered the options before landing on one. “Blood that’s shared.”
Jeryn’s features tapered. “Rhys’s heir.”
Flames from the hearth swatted the atmosphere. This hypothesis was viable. Long ago, Jeryn and Poet revealed their suspicion that Rhys had spawned an illegitimate heir. Although the man already sired a descendant with Queen Giselle, that spoiled offspring held little interest in his title or the actions of his parents. Therefore, Summer’s uninvested prince wouldn’t have the motivation to defy Rhys.
But a rejected child would.
Deserted, disinherited by his father, and denied a claim to the throne, such a figure would have every reason to spite His Majesty. And everything to gain.
Provided this successor knew of their origins. For all we had investigated, no information about this missing figure had been unveiled.
Briar’s eyes widened. “Someone used to being hidden would know how to disappear in plain sight.”
Poet tapped the map with the edge of his blade. “That’s a skill we’re all familiar with.”
“It’s a good lead. So we set out to uncover this missing heir, though we should limit this venture to one or two of us. If not, we risk discovery.”
Aspen stepped forward, but Nicu got there first. “I’ll do it.”
Everyone stalled on the Royal son. Hesitant gazes traveled among our clan, his statement placing me on guard. With every day that Nicu matured, Poet and Briar refused to keep him in the dark, defining this world conflict in a manner he comprehended. Showing their son the respect and trust he deserved, they never restricted his knowledge. But however much all of us admired Nicu’s determination, and however much it hurt to admit, this assignment required spatial and navigational surveillance, including traveling farther afield.
The princess and jester had been anticipating this day. Briar exchanged heartrending gazes with Poet, then cupped the side of Nicu’s face. “We’re proud of your courage, and we’d value nothing more than your help.” She swallowed, visibly hating to voice the next sentence. “But it’s too dangerous.”
Poet gained his son’s side and murmured, “You’re not ready yet.”
Regrettably, they explained. Nicu could follow the garlands in these halls and access the exterior grounds. Yet with his condition, he would not get past The Wandering Fields alone.
In time, it may happen. But not yet.
Nicu’s features crumpled. He swiveled his attention to me, then back to his parents. After a gut-wrenching moment, he nodded.
The best course of action involved me seeking out the perpetrator once I resumed this mission. As an extra precaution, Aspen volunteered to audit the castle, and the clan agreed. She knew how to get around people undetected and would appear less circumspect than the Royals.
As the meeting adjourned, I squeezed Nicu’s sagging shoulder. “You will get there.”
Disappointment stretched across his countenance. “Don’t leave yet.”
