Page 67

“There is a threat lurking within your inquiry.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I’ve got no problem playing unfairly. Cough them up, and I’ll cough up a promise. I won’t elaborate more on why you’re not the perfect soldier. I know you’re dreading to hear it.”

My eyebrows slammed together. “You boast about milking people’s weaknesses.”

“Are you admitting you have weaknesses for me to milk?”

“How quaint of you to progress from beseeching to blackmailing. Foul deeds shan’t benefit you, and they shall be wasted on me, as you’re too indebted to my help. This credit I shall grant: Under normal circumstances, you’re rational enough not push your luck, yet you cannot help yourself tonight. I wonder at this motive—whether it’s the weapons you desire or your mercenary pursuit of control. Either way, because I’ve done you a service, your logic knows better than to offend me, however slow the trinity of your conscience, instinct, and tongue is to catch up.”

“Pleeeeeease.”

Her countenance matched her prolonged whine. I glanced away, concealing the traitorous twitch of my lips. What manner of trickery was this? Her ability to provoke such physical reactions, from foreboding to animosity to amusement?

Her voice hunched with resignation. “You’re one hell of a project.”

“I echo that sentiment.”

She had been the cause of numerous disruptions, invading my life with aplomb. When she told me of our destination, of this very place, it had resurrected memories indirectly attached to this fairytale woodland and its acorns, a connection that I could not escape.

Could this lumber maiden somehow be linked to the fairytale as well?

She had ventured here to seek a cure. Could that cure be one of the acorns?

Although those legendary treasures had been blessed here and promised a better life, the tale implied that the wind had since blown them elsewhere. Nevertheless, those confounded acorns could very well be her aim, as she might be that desperate to try anyway.

Indeed, in the pumpkin wood, she had claimed to be asuckerfor miracles. That alone, had been an indication.

Yet, she would have already confessed to such a commonplace and predictable goal outright, as countless souls have sought the same wish. So why hadn’t she simply said so?

As for the castle, although she had broken in for a remedy, it couldn’t have been for the acorn specifically. True, she had explained about the stick key, an enterprise that meant she’d invested considerable effort in trespassing. But she couldnothave known other facts: that one of the acorns had been found and then secured in the vault. That was privileged information.

None knew of that infernal nut except for myself, the Royal family, their most discreet advisers, and the carpenter who made the acorn’s presentation case—a vessel for permanent public display.

The woodworker had been sworn to secrecy. I had not been intimately involved in the commission process, for reasons too painful to recall. In that regard, the princess and jester had been compassionate, leaving me out of the details.

So I had not met the carpenter, though the person had been in service to the Crown for years. As it was, knights did not acquaint themselves with every tradesman or woman the Royals dealt with.

Ultimately, we had been keeping the acorn a secret from Mista’s citizens, as a necessary precaution, until now; recently, plans for the unveiling had been underway. The time had come to share that acorn with the world, as a symbol of hope and unity, the belief that every person deserved a good life.

The only uninformed member of the Royal family sat across from me. Nicu had no inkling about the acorn...did he?

I shook my head. He did not know. Neither did the lumber maiden, her trespassing and her intentions in the stronghold merely coincidental.

However, she may have resorted to this place for the fairytale. She may have seen the acorn as an alternative to her failed castle venture. She may be checking every option off her list. Who would not, if they had a sick mother?

If so, and if she elected to keep that notion private, I saw no harm in it. Two acorns had been claimed, which meant one still existed. Let her seek it, if that was her will.

The only acorn that held any significance to me was safe in the castle. She hadn’t sought that one.

She resumed her attention to the woodpecker, and I should be pleased, and I should redirect my thoughts to the wind.

Yet I watched her, and I watched her, and I watched her.

17

Fantasy

For the third time, I woke up. Starlight leaked into the bungalow that I’d chosen. Not the shoddy one Lyrik had invited me to roost in, but this semi-decent one that I’d picked without his permission. Quaint vines skipped across the lintels, and the four-poster bed just needed a cobweb dusting, maybe a swatch of gritty paper in some areas, unlike the repurposing some other dwellings required.