Page 199 of Dare
Every head swung toward us. From their perspectives, Flare had mouthed the word, reacting too viscerally to write it down for the group. Nonetheless, my voice and her slow pronunciation made it clear.
Flare had spent almost a decade under lock and key, whereas I merely needed to remember Indigo. To this day, the knight overstepped and underestimated, thinking I didn’t notice him auditing my every move. Dismissing the soldier would have been circumspect. Instead, I kept him close.
Knights, soldiers, guards. This stood to reason. Rhys had recruited spies, then used his influence to mobilize citizens. Now he would go after the defense, enlisting trained fighters from within every border.
A chunky ring glinted from Poet’s finger as he tapped the stem of his chalice. “A Seasonal army.”
Vigilance creased Queen Avalea’s features. “Do you have evidence?”
“No,” I replied. “But we shall.”
“To amass a Seasonal army without the courts knowing would require years of effort,” Briar deliberated. “That would explain why it’s taken us this long to discover anything.”
“An underground operation,” the jester surmised. “In the meantime, he’ll wait until we believe we’ve won. ’Tis likely when the fucker will strike—once peace is within our grasp.”
“Would he risk waiting that amount of time?” Posy doubted. “An intermission would give the Seasons an extended window for change.”
Flare took up her leaflet and quill, holding up the paper for everyone to see. Not that amount of change.
“Not to that extreme,” I agreed. “Laws have loosened, practices have been altered, and a percentage of captives have been liberated. But freedom in totality will take longer.”
A generation. Perhaps multiple generations.
Between medical, educational, and social reform over the recent years—four thus far, if we counted from our initial meeting in the rainforest—we had made tremendous headway. But not yet on the scale we intended. To say nothing of how the populace treated liberated born souls like lepers and death targets. At least, in Spring and Winter, where progress was still vulnerable.
Avalea’s gaze slid across each face. “Provided this is Rhys’s true course of action, we must be certain.”
“We’ll continue spying,” Briar petitioned. “But we do it through his budding army.”
“Whoever they are,” Poet said. “Wherever they are.”
For however long it took. Which could be a decades-long investment. The king’s endeavor would likely require even more years than had already passed, so whoever took on such reconnaissance would have an abiding commitment ahead.
One voice murmured through the grim silence. “I will do it.”
We glanced at Aire’s taut features as he stared into the fire. Being the First Knight made him the ideal candidate. As an informant, he would blend in with the troops. Avalea gave her approval, followed by Briar and Poet.
Aspen’s attention jumped from him to the queen. “What about me? How do I help?”
“By staying out of it,” the knight snapped.
Although the hood concealed the female’s expression, there was no mistaking the offense in her smoky voice. “I’m a fighter too.”
“But not an advanced warrior,” Aire corrected.
Offended, Aspen rose from her perch beside Cadence. “Give me a target.”
The knight raised his brows, as if daring her to say that again, to command him as if he were of a lower rank. “Excuse me?”
“Give. Me. A. Target.”
Aire wavered, then mellowed his tone. “You have already proven your worth, Aspen. That’s not what this is about.”
She bristled. “And I don’t need your supernatural intuition doing me favors.”
The knight’s jaw locked while searching her face for a second time. His expression struggled with something, as if pushing against a blockade. “This is not intuition, it’s common sense. You’re too inexperienced.”
“Don’t treat me like a rookie.”