Page 49

Not that he could be won, even if I were. He wasn’t interested in my buxom curves. And he didn’t have the stink of an adulterer. No, he smelled as pure as a cloud.

My dignity could take a hint, but my tongue had a mind of its own. This nobleman’s blush gave me an awful thrill.

It also pinched my woodskin. Offending him wouldn’t earn me points.

Punk pecked my head for that comment, then departed to the tree again, chiseling through her frustration. She did this thing, wherein she felt responsible for me. I planned to apologize to her later.

Aire’s lips quirked with gratification as I rubbed the spot on my head where she’d pricked me. “I knew I should have slashed off your tongue when I met you.”

“And end all these stimulating conversations?”

“I shall live without your apology, neither expecting one, nor requiring it. Though it appears, you have shamed her.” He jutted his chin at the woodpecker. “She is an upright creature at heart. To what name does she answer, again?”

“Punk,” I reminded him, lowering my voice since she hated being talked about. “My sidekick was going to be a cricket, but Punk came flying out of nowhere and ate it. It’s the sort of thing a punk would do, and I fancy punks, so that’s the name she accepted. Turned out, she was more ethical than I’d assumed.”

“It surprises me that you did not cast her aside after such a discovery.”

“Not her,” I stated. “I’m a ringleader with other friends; they’re expendable, but not Punk.”

“Ringleader? Expendable? I see you possess a mercenary entitlement to match your impropriety.” Disapproval rang in his voice. “Taking advantage of kinships only cements bitterness. In the long term, sucking on your authority like toffee turns friends into enemies.”

“Wrong. It makes them loyal.”

“That breed of loyalty is a lie.”

“Right. Because no one’s ever asserted dominance in a clique. We run in different circles, Sir Knight. Everyone, even the benevolent of Autumn, has a limit and a price. Everyone has a weakness.”

His voice deepened. “And what is your weakness?”

My mother’s face came to mind. I heard her calling me her little timber girl. I saw her hands, gently adjusting a bolt in my knee.

I saw her clenching a mallet.

That one time, she hadn’t been aiming it at her projects. I remembered her watching me, like she’d just realized what she’d crafted me from. I remembered her staring at me like an object. Like bark taken from the enraged trees.

Something to repent for. Something to smash.

I felt my chin buckle, a shudder passing through me before I could disguise it.

Aire’s head tilted. I’d given him a taste of it last night, but did he see it now? My weakness?

Something gentle swept across his face, his forehead and brows crinkling in sympathy. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Tucking myself further into the blanket, I scooted to the pumpkin’s edge. The words spilled out. “Please let me go.”

He glanced away. “I’m sorry. I cannot do that.”

“I didn’t hurt anyone in the castle. Was there any sign or report of someone injured? I came and left, with none the wiser. I meant no harm.”

“You trespassed, bent on taking from the Crown, then let the Royal Son accompany you, when you should have alerted us of him.”

“How old are you?”

“I am two-and-twenty. What does that have to do—”

“Nicu’s younger, but not by decades. He’s seventeen and sheltered, don’t you get that? He’s not asking for the world, just an experience of his own. I’m not his keeper, and neither are you.”

Aire flinched. “Yes, he made that abundantly clear last evening, amongst other wisdoms. Good Seasons, between his entreaty and yours...”