Excerpt / Trick
Prologue
Jester
Come here, my sweeting. I have a story to share. I shall amuse you, I promise. 'Tis what I do best. If you consider my costume, with its frills and thrills, 'twill be more obvious.
Ay, come to me, and fear not, for I'm renowned. My nails are groomed, my skin is fair, and my smile wickedly pretty. Courtiers say so while tittering behind their goblets. Their teeth scrape over the rims, their lips tinted from wine as they talk of my skills: the ones I perform in halls, as well as in beds, with assorted tastes and...companions.
I know what people think, for I'm attuned to the whispers in this castle. They float around on giddy breezes, easy to catch if you're sly.
Have I not mentioned that I live in a castle? You'll learn more about that soon.
Indeed, I have your attention. Splendid.
My name is Poet. What is yours?
Hush. Let me guess.
Now allow me to list my attributes. I can flip across a floor like liquid, juggle circles around you, or steal your breath with a twirl. I speak with the silver tongue of a trickster. If you ask nicely, I shall delight you with a rhyme, a few lines of verse spun from gold. If you ask even nicer, I might grace you with that rhyme in private. As you like.
I'm a trinket, a servant of the Crown. I'm a riddle, a hidden agenda.
The better to outwit you.
I'm the finest jest you'll ever know. If you irritate me, I'll best you with words, for swords are the toys of knights, whilst I use more creative weapons.
That doesn't mean I don't know how to handle a blade. For I can. And I have. Many times, I've carried one with me whilst sneaking out of this stronghold, passing in and out of shadows, with the guards none the wiser. A knife has been necessary on those nights, and reaching my precious destination, my dearest little secret, has been worth the risk.
Still, my wit is sharper than a dagger. And oh, that is the grandest triumph, because it bests even the most regal of this kingdom. For only a clever man knows how to play a fool. I've spent my life, all nineteen years of it, learning how.
Yet none of these skills can steel the heart, nor protect it from breaking. Recently, I've learned that lesson well. So let me tell you a tale of how I lost a battle of wills.
Not to my King. Not to my Queen.
Nay. I lost to a girl.