“We all take from the trees. We build shelter and fires. And we extend our gratitude for the privilege.”
“Mama didn’t express gratitude or ask in the first place. Not that it makes her a bad or unworthy person. She was pregnant and just so excited. She wanted to craft me a weapon from the finest hardwood. If I hadn’t been growing inside her, this wouldn’t have…”
I grabbed both of her shoulders. “She made an honest mistake, and nature is not always charitable or objective. But this is not your doing.”
Her irises searched my own. Then she gulped down the melancholy.
I would not fail another person I cared about. I would not let this female down.
Dawn poured rays into the forest like sap. As I released her, my eyes surveyed the axe. The rounded edge gleamed, newly honed as if she had found a suitable tool.
“You sharpened it,” I observed.
An unmistakable light brightened Aspen’s countenance. “I did.”
The whetstone. She brought it with her.
This discovery unspooled through a crawlspace in my sternum. I swallowed my joy, then veered toward the unpaved route. “These woods have older secrets than the rest of Autumn, and they mean to keep them. Be wary of where you tread.”
Aspen tucked the mantle’s tartan hood around her face. “Same.”
Two hours maximum. That was our time limit before trekking back here.
We strode from the border and entered the forest side by side. This arrangement did not last. Unable to help myself, I fell one step ahead like a barrier, my eyes panning across the wild for signs of peril.
The wind stilled, as if it could not fit through this dense expanse. But no foul disturbance approached. After a mile without incident, we conversed in moderate tones while scouring the environment.
Objective: Find and verify the camp’s outpost near the oak tree. From there, ascertain the conspirators’ identities, their daily patterns, their methods of communication, and their impending plot to ambush Autumn.
It would take more than one expedition, but once we gathered the necessary intel, only then would we act, either messaging the clan via hawk to dispatch reinforcements or spiriting to the castle as fast as possible. The options depended on what we found out and how soon the traitors would mobilize again.
If these knights wished to advance Summer’s plan, remaining idle would not suffice. At some point, they must resume their task. So the questions remained, when would this come to pass, and to what end?
The answers were contingent on one person who possessed the authority to issue commands.
“Rhys,” I spat.
The king’s name brought a grimace to Aspen’s face. “What about him?”
“That dictator wouldn’t have merely dispatched his cult and let them fly solo. At convenient intervals, Rhys will seek in-person contact.”
“Intimidation,” she agreed. “That’s his style.”
I maneuvered around an abandoned wagon wheel choked by weeds. For some reason, her confidence unnerved me. “You sound certain.”
Aspen ducked beneath an offshoot. “Even without confirmations from Queen Giselle, that cocksucker’s never been tough to read. He makes it clear he’s got a hard-on for control, gets off on throwing his weight around, and flaunts his crown like it’s a fourteen-carat dick.”
Accurate. “If we find an opening, best to search their coffers.”
“And their campfires.”
I shot her another look, my skin prickling. Yes, our clan had theorized this long ago. If Rhys didn’t want a missive detected, intercepted, or tracked, he would use the ashes of Summer tinder and deliver tidings through flames, which would cremate the parchment once it had been read.
Therefore, it wasn’t Aspen’s suggestion that struck a nerve. Again, it was her certainty.
I transferred my attention to the forest. Watchful of its inhabitants, this environment had been tailored for curses and dreams. Enchanting yet ominous, the colors were richer, the sounds deeper, the aromas spicier than the rest of our kingdom. The branches curled as if they might snatch a person off their feet.
The closer we got to our destination, the more I recognized. The breeze picked up, winnowing through the understory.
