Page 157 of Dare
“I don’t know whether to thank you or bid you’re welcome,” he remarked in amusement.
I laughed. “Both.”
Jeryn had the walk and talk of a Royal, but he also wasn’t the fur-cloaked monster I’d first met. The Phantom Wild had cut and bruised and hardened every ridge more than it already had been. Also, it had softened other places and brought a new clarity to his eyes.
I could draw his likeness into the earth. But to get those features right, I’d need something with a finer point, like a feather quill.
While he tended to my back, I drew across a patch of soil as if it were sand, forming symbols into the bank. A tidefarer, a rainforest, a hidden palace.
“You’re good,” Jeryn murmured over my shoulder. “Images that speak without words. If they were aware of it, monarchs would summon you across the Seasons to demonstrate such a spectacle.”
I imagined my sand art reaching the hearts and minds of this continent. The possibility fluttered in my stomach. The thought of being heard … the chance to have a voice … to bond with so many others …
Your strengths don’t begin and end in this realm.
As they often did, Jeryn’s words from our dinner on the beach returned, including his declarations about my mission. If the rainforest weren’t able to tell me which of my skills could help born souls, would I be able to figure it out myself?
What did I have to share with this world?
Twisting my head Jeryn’s way, I wondered, “What about the people? How would they react?”
“That would be for you to discover,” Jeryn answered. “But whatever you made them feel, they would not forget it.”
“Would you?”
Those eyes darkened. “I will never forget anything you’ve made me feel.”
Setting aside the ointment, Jeryn wiped his hands and wheeled me toward him. We reclined in the grass and lay on our sides, facing one another. I drew the blanket over our waists, barely enough to cover his beautiful ass and my hips.
Like this, we stared at one another. The waterfalls threw mist into the air and filled this haven with secretive noises.
“When the poison seeped into me, I thought of Winter frost,” I said. “Does the cold sting like that? Is it so intense that it burns? Is there no sun?”
“There is—”
“It didn’t sound so when you described it. How can such an icy place have star murals, sleighs drawn by stags, dire wolf sleds, and yule owls?”
“Flare—”
“And you talked about elks in a forest called The Iron Wood. And you mentioned gravy. Is it warm? How do the animals not freeze?”
A wry look crossed his face. “May I talk?”
“What?” I asked innocently. “I’m not stopping you.”
He threw back his head and burst out laughing. The baritone sound heated my flesh, so that I longed to drag my tongue across his mouth and learn what his mirth tasted like.
Recovering, Jeryn twined a wavy lock of my hair around his finger and admired how it sprang back into place, reshaping itself. “Winter has as many havens as it does perils, just as each court possesses its own courtesies and malevolence.”
That didn’t excuse the dungeons, towers, or oubliettes, the places where they dumped people like Pearl and Lorelei and Dante and Rune.
I scooted closer, the movement prompting him to wind an arm around me. “You once held me in contempt for being mad, yet your feelings changed.” I seared my gaze into his. “So has your definition of madness changed too?”
Jeryn glimpsed my neck and then dragged his eyes to mine. “Flare, I—”
“Because who says the free citizens of The Dark Seasons aren’t just as mad? Is it normal to scorn and enslave the way they have? The way you have? Was it normal for Pyre or the rest of the tower guards to enjoy tormenting prisoners? Is King Rhys sane after everything he’s done to born souls? To Poet, Briar, and their son?”
“Flare. You know I don’t feel that way anymore.”