He might have used the secret passage from his chamber, except sentinels patrolled those tunnels. That Nicu knew how to escape notice regardless of his condition was no accident. Poet and Briar had been relentless in teaching him to understand the concept of evasion, while Jeryn and a second Winter physician tasked to Nicu’s treatment had assisted. As a result, my liege became an apt pupil, learning how to blend into the shadows like his father. For adventurous reasons, he may have ventured on his own, and this might be a harmless case of him losing his way.
Or his disappearance involved this unknown spy. If not Rhys’s secret heir, then a captor plotting to hold Nicu for ransom. Worse, an assassin uninterested in negotiation. The possibilities abounded, for it wouldn’t be the first time any of our clan had been targeted.
Intuition chaffed my flesh like a rash. Images flitted in and out of my psyche.
Nicu’s face, blending with the visage of another male. This one younger, with certain features similar to Poet and Briar’s son, except the child possessed auburn hair and irises like my own. A precious countenance that had once trusted me, believing I would keep him safe.
I prowled toward the Royal entrance, my desire to carve out the perpetrator’s heart all-consuming. If Poet didn’t mutilate this enemy first, I would.
Hawks catapulted across the sky, providing broader surveillance. They circled on majestic wingspans, slicing through the clouds in an unbroken circumference. However, one of them abandoned the rotation, his metallic plumes glinting like foil.
I stalled, thrust my attention heavenward, and narrowed my gaze at the object in his beak. My arm lashed out to stop the raptor’s progress. Crooking my elbow, I waited as the hawk answered my call, his body spearing down, arrowing toward me.The descent buffeted my collar, the avian’s talons hooking onto my leather-clad forearm, his beak clamping a leaf adorned with handwriting.
The obsidian tics of his eyes leveled with mine. For the past century, the watch hawks of Autumn had volunteered themselves as fellow knights in their own right.
Skyborn defenders of the kingdom. Winged soldiers of the Crown.
“Brother,” I greeted, stroking the creature’s feathers. “What have we here?”
The hawk permitted me to ease the missive from his hold, my gloved fingers raising the leaf to the exterior firelight. The tidings bore no personal symbol, yet it didn’t need to. The penmanship told me enough.
Terror chilled my veins. I charged into the castle with the hawk riding my shoulder.
In the Royal wing, Poet thrashed across one of the corridors like a feral tiger. From one apartment to the next, he blew past the doors, hinges busting on impact. Every poor soul on duty gave him a wide berth, the jester’s green irises wild with panic, wrath, and five dozen other murderous inclinations.
Unkempt hair framed his tormented face, the black leather and lace of his attire unclasped and hanging off him as though he’d just walked through a hurricane. Yet the second he caught sight of me, Poet halted. His features darkened, the rampant expression giving way to vengeance. Knocking his head toward Nicu’s suite, he prowled inside, hollering something. As I struck after him and closed the chamber door, Briar flew into the antechamber. Clasping one of Nicu’s pillows to the bodice of her cashmere robe, the princess’s horrified pupils clung to Poet, then swerved to me.
Jeryn and Flare followed in her wake. The Winter King and his lady stationed themselves beside the window, quicklytrailed by Eliot, Cadence, Posy, and Vale. A grim expression sat on the minstrel’s face, while Briar’s ladies appeared winded, the group having combed through separate wings.
Except for Briar, everyone got out of Poet’s way. Idling in their respective corners, the clan granted their jester the necessary space in which to burn holes into the carpet.
Someone would need to send word to Queen Avalea. Without delay, a hawk must reach the outer regions to which she had traveled. But not until I did my part.
Moving quickly, I strode deeper into the room. The hawk launched from my shoulder, seeking purchase on a window seat. Because the jester was the nearest parent in range, I said nothing while holding out the leaf.
Poet swiped the missive and growled, “Briar.”
The princess darted to his side. The room fell deathly quiet, my pulse drumming as they poured over the contents.
Briar gasped, one palm clapping over her mouth. Relief collapsed their features before a new type of distress took hold, in addition to a rampage. At least on one predecessor’s part.
Poet unleashed. “Wicked motherfucking hell!” he roared, then aimed a painted fingernail at his wife. “He gets this from you!”
Briar’s freckles pinched together. Her palm clutched his jaw to steady him. “Poet, please calm down.”
“Sweet Thorn, you should know by now,” he seethed while the rest of us passed around the note. “I don’t have your willpower, much less the restraint to fucking calm down!”
Jeryn inspected the letter as if peering through a microscope, and Flare read swiftly. Then Eliot groaned in dismay while the ladies took their turns, huddling around the missive. Clad in nothing but embroidered robes, Posy blanched, worry gripped Vale’s countenance, and Cadence pursed her lips.
I scanned the message last. Nicu’s handwriting begged forgiveness for causing a “fuss,” assured us of his wellbeing, beseeched the clan to look after Tumble, and conveyed his intentions. With dismay, I scanned every line, each one a haunting blow to the chest.
Save us all. Be a hero. Help a friend.
The first two declarations were quotes from Briar, things she imparted to him as a child. However, the last proclamation seized me by the throat. Not because I could sense the source, but because I could not.
Which meant only one person.
“What fucking friend?” Poet boomed. “Aside from Her Majesty, we’re all accounted for.”
