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Such advice never failed: Do not play verbal chess with a jester.

“If you’re worried about my ability to carry out duties—”

“Rubbish,” he scoffed. “Keeping tabs on your job performance is the Crown’s responsibility. Mine is to fuck with propriety and look delectable while doing it. Am I overstepping? Assuming thereissomething to overstep?”

“I have nothing to hide, Master Jester.”

“Stop addressing me by that atrociously boring title or we’re not friends anymore.”

“Poet,” I corrected. “There is nothing that warrants privacy.”

“Except the part in which a Girl Whom We Shall Not Name confessed her feelings for you. Except the part in which you did not reciprocate. Except the part in which you, Aire of Autumn, honorable and good First Knight, spewed venom at a shackled maiden in the throne room. No one’s words have ever triggered you that way. Before a court, she professed the truth, yet you would have her believe those feelings unrequited.” He squinted. “You lied, Aire.”

I committed the grave offense of turning my back on him and pulling a shirt over my head. “And what, pray, did I lie about?”

“You’re in love with her.”

My movements stilled for a moment. With effort, I finished the task, tucking the hem into my sport hose and strapping a scabbard to my hip.

Behind me, the jester sighed. “It’s no use. I’ll still be here when you manage to turn around.”

I turned around. “Nicu has already cornered me about this.”

“From the look on your face, he had a lasting effect.”

“Your son may speak unlike any other, but he gets his point across. Emotionally, he is good at convincing people of things. Nevertheless, it is not that simple.”

“Then permit me to add the cherry on top. If it were that simple, it wouldn’t be love. Don’t bother contesting, noble Aire. You’re in the company of a man desperately amorous of his own lady. A man who worships his princess to no end. I know what passion looks and sounds like.”

“I do as well. I was married.”

“Indeed. Though ’tisn’t your past that we’re speaking of.”

The jester’s experience surpassed mine. He and the princess did not flaunt their intimacy in public, though they did not hide it either, their eyes burning for each other across crowded halls—a palpable, undeniable thing.

More than once, I’d reported to their adjoining chamber door in the mornings, only to be hindered by the rhythmic, ardent noises coming from inside.

Oftentimes, it lasted a while.

But it was more than that. They shared a kinship borne of rebellion and resilience, rapture and regulations. Although utter opposites, they could not be more perfectly matched.

Poet sobered, his voice losing its theatrical veneer. “There are thousands of shades of love, each one occurring at its own pace. For some, the greatest of emotions can take years to blossom, or mere days, for there is no rule—” he smirked, “—or rhyme.” He mused, “Is that not what makes every love story tried and true? Be that story foolish, dangerous, or dishonest?”

“And if you had suffered my fate? If you had lost Briar?”

“Then I might not be standing here, for I mightn’t have endured—were it not for Nicu’s existence.” He clamped a hand on my shoulder. “I’m not telling you how to feel or what to do, Aire. I’m telling you that you alreadyknow.”

Aspen and I had made our choices. She had released me, and I had walked away, refraining from doing the one thing that a knight vowed to do: fight.

Yet because it had been a choice, I had the liberty of changing my mind, of reaching for something I’d thought unattainable.

I would have replied, were it not for footsteps staggering toward the training yard, cutting an irregular path in our direction. Poet’s dark brows slanted, recognizing the sound.

We both turned at the surge of Nicu’s voice, which matched the expression he’d been wearing all these months. “Did you send him away?” he demanded of his father.

Poet balked, and not only because his son had carried himself here without the aid of ribbons. One glance at me, and I supplied, “The potioneer.”

I did not blame the jester for his confusion. It had been growing steadily ever since Nicu’s return and Lyrik’s subsequent departure to the Kingdom of Winter.