“Not all of us,” disputed a baritone voice.
Poet and Briar whirled toward Jeryn. The king loomed within a shard of moonlight that diced through the window, his features composed, logical, and unsurprised. Deciphering his thoughts, Flare pointed to a display case resting on a side table. The compartment stood empty, though it usually held a gift Nicu once received for his birthday.
A dagger with indented ribbon shapes along the handle. A weapon crafted by the only smith in this clan.
My blood boiled. Everlasting Seasons!
Poet’s face slackened. At the same time, Briar’s complexion paled, the conclusion hitting them in unison.
“Aspen,” she whispered.
“But she’s not in residence,” Posy insisted. “She declined having a spare apartment here.”
“And if the alarm reaches Aspen’s home, it will take time to get her ass to the castle,” Vale added.
Cadence dismissed that with a wave. “We’re assuming she wasn’t already in the stronghold.”
“And we’re assuming this wasn’t planned,” Eliot said. “Notes are written when actions are premeditated.”
“A leaf engraved in haste does not imply that,” I rebutted.
Seething, Poet wrapped his arms around Briar’s middle, holding the woman tightly while she struggled to remain levelheaded. “Aspen wouldn’t assist Nicu in a plot to leave the castle unless he presented a solid argument,” she rationalized. “And Nicu wouldn’t leave in the first place unless he believed his intentions benefitted the clan.”
Flare nodded.“He wants to help us.”
“And yet,” Jeryn calculated, “this doesn’t explain why he chose Aspen specifically.”
Against my better judgement, I bristled. “Without evidence, this is moot. We do not know for certain she was on the premises, much less for Nicu’s sake.”
“You said Nicu mentioned a spy during the roundtable,” Posy jumped in. “What if—”
“No,” Briar affirmed. “Nicu loves people, but he would never travel with someone he doesn’t know intimately.”
A vicious expression carved across Poet’s face. “He’s with Aspen,” he growled. “So where the fuck are they going?”
Jeryn and Flare sliced their gazes at me. This verified a longstanding suspicion about these two. They knew the catalyst for my protective instincts toward Aspen, having concluded I hid information about the woman.
I smashed my lips together. Although the premonition about my impending failure to protect Aspen offered no specifics, exposing this omen may trigger or worsen the circumstances. The whims of destiny played cruel games. This had been the reason I withheld the information in the first place.
Also, it was Aspen’s private fate. If anyone should be told first, it was her.
Bemused, Eliot and the ladies wheeled my way. Next, Poet and Briar slowly directed their full attention from Jeryn and Flare to me. The princess frowned, and her shoulders straightened. Not in the mood to be trifled with, the jester lifted a dangerous eyebrow.
Nicu, clinging to my side as a child. Nicu, hugging me upon my return yesterday. Nicu, crestfallen when he’d been denied the chance to aid the clan, to find our spy.
Be truthful and help retrieve Nicu. Or practice dishonesty and safeguard Aspen’s fate.
Fuck.
“I do not know their destination,” I imparted. “I have no sense of that. But there is one thing.”
And so I conveyed the premonition. As I spoke, everyone digested my confession with varying degrees of consternation. Other than Jeryn, whose arctic features testified just how seriously he took superstitions.
“The particulars are beyond my knowledge,” I finished. “Yet this harbinger has never included Nicu.”
Steam could have blasted from Poet’s nostrils. “Not good enough.”
The fuming jester struck into motion, exiting the suite while Briar commanded the nearest guards, “Saddle our horses!”
