But someday it would be different. Someday, I’d light a match and roast the monikers in a pyre.
Summer versus Autumn. The winner had been clear for a while.
Poet and Briar had exposed Rhys’s bullshit during Reaper’s Fest. And with Jeryn and Flare joining the clan, Autumn held the cards. This nation had Spring on its side. More importantly, it had Winter.
Summer stood in too weak a position to openly attack. Being scorned by The Dark Seasons had robbed the king of options. But men like Rhys didn’t stay down for long, especially if he kept a few last-ditch pawns in his pocket.
By manipulating others, he tested the clan’s defenses without implicating himself. This tactic conserved risk while advancing his goals, giving Rhys ample time to marinate in his own prejudiced cesspool and add Seasonal warfare to his bucket list. An objective that would take years.
Years of having me under his thumb, thus endangering the clan and my family. Years of harming innocent people. Years of serving the wrong side.
I clenched the bloody axe in one fist, then brushed Aire’s gift with the other. Like a newly forged blade, an idea formed.
Lying could be more than a shield. It could become a weapon. Something to wield in unexpected ways the king wouldn’t see coming, beating him at his game and safeguarding the clan.
My nostrils flared, my heart broke, and my plan ignited.
Rhys wanted to blackmail a liar? I would give him a fucking liar.
3
Aire
Brazen Creature! Fierce, intrepid, outrageous, foul-mouthed, headstrong, obstinate girl!
The number of times that stubborn maiden tossed every protective instinct back in my face defied my ability to count. This, from the time she’d been one-tenth of my size.
Goddammit, Aspen. In the spitfire’s proud mind, a warrior’s oath to protect and serve didn’t apply to her. Inaccurately, it implied she was feeble. To that end, this female would rather dine on horseshit than let anyone take care of her.
Gnashing my teeth, I crossed a sufficient amount of leagues before pivoting the stallion around. Nudging my heels into his withers, I tugged on the reins. The steed complied, though not without complaint, an exasperated blast of air launching from his snout. Inconsistency vexed this animal, regardless of how accustomed he was to double backing while tracking a predator.
Bucking into motion, I turned us back the way we’d come. Leaning into the courser’s spine, I tore a broadsword from my scabbard, choking the hilt in my fist. Scarves of wind chased through the flaps of my coat, the velvet textile lashing behind like a wingspan.
Static charged the air. It rushed across my skin, raising the hairs across my biceps. I pursued that sign, blood scorching the tips of my fingers.
Sensing my haste, the warhorse spirited ahead, crashing through the undergrowth. Fury clashed with fear, both afflictions exclusive to this girl. The perpetual urge to safeguard her. The terror that I would someday fail. Unlike every other member of the clan, Aspen put up a fight about needing my assistance.
Nothing unusual. Except tonight, an ominous sensation crawled along my flesh.
Her words. Her wound.
She had abandoned the revels out of exhaustion. She hadn’t intended to say goodbye. She falsely mistook a disturbance in this forest for an attacker. She presumably overreacted. She resented the whetstone.
She got her wrist caught in a fucking vise.
Bull. Shit.
Partially, at least. Though, which portion of the tale was a falsehood remained to be determined.
The answer should come as second nature to me. Yet not with Aspen.
Foreboding dominated my psyche. That she flung my gift to the wolves, throwing it aside like rubbish had split me in half. Regardless, that hadn’t mattered as much as whatever truths she withheld. This female should have learned by now; I knew the signs of recently departed company.
I steered the warhorse around a felled tree. My mount kicked up speed, gilded leaves reducing to a blurred montage on either side of us.
At length, I drew on the reins. The stallion slowed to a trot, then ebbed to a walk. Taking heed, I directed us through the hedges, weaving out of sight as we approached the fringes of her cottage.
Releasing the tether, I whipped out my sword’s twin and windmilled both into place. My gaze torched through the landscape, searing a path across the undergrowth.
