Page 117 of Dare
Two figures stood on the bridge, on the fortress’s end. With their backs turned, they marveled at the ancient platform and the leviathan skeleton resting on the lake floor. The man towered behind the woman, with his arms secured around her middle.
The tall male with a dark shag of hair wore what could only be described as insolent attire. Snug boots with intricate pleating, lightweight pants dyed in demon-black, and a shirt of the same shade, fitted to accentuate his muscled physique. At least, he’d been wise to forgo the customary leathers and heavily accessorized trimmings, but while the closed footwear and breathable textiles made sense, his choice of color would do him no favors in the sun tomorrow. Not that he would ever give a fashionable shit.
The slender female attached to him was outfitted in a khaki linen jumpsuit. A herringbone pattern accented the bodice and ran down the sides of her pants, and long sleeves protected the woman’s arms. As always, understated elegance combined with practicality.
A stack of mismatched bracelets encircled the man’s wrist. The scarlet ribbon in particular caught my eye, which matched the one ornamenting the woman’s hand beneath her cinched wrist sleeves. I’d seen this pair wearing such cords on prior occasions.
Two other facets identified them. Red hair plaited into a loose braid. Two verdant irises that gleamed like mischief itself when the couple twisted our way.
Having heard the doors creek open, they stared. Amazement. Astonishment. Both reactions carved into their features, one face as sharp as a thorn, the other cut like a diamond.
Briar. Poet.
Princess. Jester.
At my side, Flare sucked in a breath. In unison, a similar noise ejected from Briar. The little beast leaped down the steps, the hem of my shirt flapping around her naked limbs. At the same time, Briar launched into a run.
The women vaulted toward each other. With joyous cries—one audible to the world, the other not—they crashed together. Flinging their arms around one another, the females clutched and rocked from side to side, their bodies shaking with elation and relief.
From behind the spectacle, Poet observed with a tilt to his lips. Amusement brightened the jester’s eyes, the lashes lined in black kohl.
My woman was the first to pull away. She cradled Briar’s face and planted a sequence of kisses on the princess’s freckled cheeks. In turn, the princess unleashed a teary laugh and inched back to comb through Flare’s hair.
“Finally,” Briar exclaimed. “Did you miss us?”
“Come now, my wifely thorn,” Poet’s satin voice interrupted as he sauntered toward them. “Don’t you know? Everyone misses us.”
Predictable. Pompous.
That shirt hung open to his navel, revealing a sculpted torso. Once a vain fucker, always a vain fucker. Beyond that, the word wifely elicited a memory.
My gaze clicked once more toward the scarlet ribbons. The ends of Briar’s ribbon hung longer, evidence that it had once belonged to Poet. Whereas the tips of his own bracelet dangled shorter, proving it had previously graced the princess’s arm.
They had swapped. The sight, along with Poet’s endearment, reminded me of news that had traveled across the continent before I’d traveled to Summer. Poet and Briar had gotten married in private, then celebrated later with their family and the kingdom.
“Well?” The jester opened his arms to Flare. “What are you waiting for, sweeting?”
As Flare whirled to embrace Poet, a barbaric noise sliced across my tongue, too low for them to hear. Nonetheless, the little beast skipped backward and shook her head, delivering the same question I’d been thinking.
She uttered a word that came out inaudible to them. A one-syllable inquiry the jester and princess could nonetheless read. “How?”
How were they here? How had they found us?
Yet the beast seemed expectant, hardly surprised when Briar grinned. “We had help,” she explained, indicating a red butterfly perched on the bridge’s rim.
The creature had been stationed there, but now it sprang into the air and landed on Flare’s crooked finger. Another member of her fauna pack, I concluded.
Delighted, the beast stroked the butterfly’s wings. “Thank you, my friend.”
Thank you. As in, the creature had done her a favor.
My eyes narrowed. Every Season had its fauna messengers. Summer relied on the generosity of butterflies, among certain marine species.
At some point while here, Flare had contacted Poet and Briar. Given how long it would have taken for the fauna to reach Autumn, then for the jester and princess to act, Flare’s missive must have been dispatched prior to … everything that had happened.
The butterfly flapped into the trees, its red wings vanishing into the thicket. It must have led our guests here. Across the sea, through the rainforest, into the cave tunnels, and to the ruins.
My attention slid back to Flare. She hadn’t told me about her missive to Poet and Briar. Not that I could blame her. Only recently had Flare trusted me enough to reveal her belief about finding a key in this realm, an indication of her purpose for born souls.