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Despite working with them for years, Mother, always professional, withheld the details of her private life from the Royals. She’d never mentioned me.

Anyway, Mother hadn’t known what I’d intended. She never would.

Unless the Royals caught me.

I clenched my eyes shut.

“Am I hurting you?” Mother ask, stalling her work.

“No,” I muttered.

All the same, her movements gentled. “I wonder why the bells tolled last night. I peeked outside this morning but couldn’t hear what people were saying.”

I tensed. “Did you ask them?”

“We’re out of nails. That’s why I wanted you to fetch them yesterday, Aspen.”

“Mother, did you ask?” I repeated.

“Yes, but...they ignored me.”

I shot upright, jerking my skirt over my calves with a flick of my wrist. “What does that mean?”

Oh, I had an idea. The locals weren’t idiots. They’d begun to notice her mind straying, getting worse.

Eventually, word of this might spread to the homes of nobility, then to the Royals. Rumors blossomed eagerly and traveled fast, particularly when people had the motivation. Mother had always been a sought-after woodworker in the lower town. That also made her the competition.

At this rate, her position wouldn’t keep for long. Not if she couldn’t finish her work or hold on to her patrons.

People would label her a simpleton. Or worse.

Simpletons and maddened souls were no laughing matters.

Not safe ones, either—despite what the monarchy promised.

Throughout history, the world believed that having a lopsided or demented mind meant the person had been doomed by the almighty Seasons. “Born fools”—with ailments that surfaced at birth or even later in life—were treated like accidents of nature that needed to be contained, otherwise they could be dangers or burdens to the kingdoms’ denizens.

So under the universal Fools Decree, anyone deemed a born fool became property of the monarchies of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.

Depending on the kingdom and how severe the foolishness, those people could be jailed or enslaved, used for labor or entertainment. Or traded to another Season.

It had always been this way. Until thirteen years ago, when Autumn rebelled.

Under the leadership of our princess and her jester lover, Mista changed its rules. At first, it caused a lot of anger here, protests and resistance. But as Briar and Poet worked together, advocating for equality and encouraging benevolence—the moral pillars of Autumn—attitudes changed.

Now Autumn was a haven for fools, enabling them to live freely here. We still traded with the other Seasons, but only to provide an escape for all.

Winter had also become an ally. And in Summer, because of a rumored sand artist whose creations incited social change, intolerance had begun to crumble there as well. Meanwhile, Spring held out.

That didn’t mean everything was perky and perfect in Autumn. Some people still gawked or turned the other way. Some merchants broke civil law, refusing to sell to fools, opting to pay the fine instead.

There was no spare stack of knights to enforce something fairer, although the Crown had been working on that, too. And sometimes, Her Highness or the Court Jester paid unscheduled visits to those places, talking those merchants down.

The monarchy was sympathetic to fools. The jester’s illegitimate son was known to be simple; the child had been adopted by the princess and become a member of the Royal family. Word had it, Briar loved the boy as much as she loved Poet. It fueled the couple’s campaigns and town marches for tolerance.

But as in any kingdom, the Crown couldn’t be everywhere at once. They couldn’t control the actions or feelings of every resident.

My mother is not a fool.