Lord of the Hunt (17 page)

Taryn stood silent.

As if sensing them, the river surged closer, the surface lifting as if faces and limbs were trying to break free.

“This place is horrible.”

“Necessary. Not every soul is worthy of crossing the bridge to Elysia.”

“Hell is literally breaking loose.”

Verden nodded. “Yes. Disease will spread.” Taryn knew the mortal world better than him. “Do you know what smallpox is?”

She nodded. “It was eradicated a few decades ago.” She turned to look at him. “It’s back, isn’t it?”

“It never left; it was merely contained by Felan and me. Before Gwyn took the throne, there were many years of battle between him and his brother—centuries in mortal time. Millions died of disease. The fairy population was decimated as battles were fought. It was a long, dark winter I’m told. Gwyn picked a bride in a hurry to cement his rule, but she was more in love with power than him. After his battle with his brother, he never allowed her a second child.”

“Maybe he should’ve and then we wouldn’t be here.”

“It would have happened eventually and Felan would have had to fight his sibling.”

“Why did Gwyn fight for it? Why not walk away and end it all?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Few alive now would remember. Gwyn is old; even fairies don’t live forever.”

“Felan will need a wife to balance the magic.”

“That’s why he is spending more time in the mortal world.”

“He’s not just patching the veil?”

Verden shook his head. “We keep his secret; he keeps ours.”

“Are you telling me every plague in human history comes from here?” She pointed at the river.

“All disease comes from here. Even before fairies claimed Annwyn, there were breeches in the veil. In my time as Hunter, I’ve seen big and small plagues. Every time the King and Queen fight, thousands die. Humans have got better at protecting themselves and stopping the spread, but it still happens.”

The river rippled unnaturally, faces peering from beneath the dark water.

This wasn’t how he’d wanted their time together to be. He’d wanted sunlight and laughter. He’d eat a burger, meat and all, just to go back and reclaim their afternoon, but it was lost beneath the poisoned water of the river—another early casualty in the coming battle. He sighed.

“I’m sorry our day didn’t go as planned.”

“I didn’t realize things were so bad.” Her eyes were full of pain. “I need to get my parents back, fast.”

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her. He’d bring them back now if he had that power. Only the King could. “Do what you have to with the King, and I will try not to watch.”

“Verden…I…”

“I don’t want to know.” He wouldn’t be able to live if he knew the details. “Just do what you have to as I do.”

Sex means nothing—how hollow his words were now.

Chapter 11

Finding Gwyn wasn’t difficult. He was spending more and more time in the Hall of Judgment, settling the more frequent disputes between fairies and the dealing with the influx of mortals’ souls. When he saw Verden, he signaled him over.

While it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, the King needed to be aware of the worsening situation—while Verden had promised not to mention the meeting with Felan and what was said, he hadn’t promised not to do his job.

Gwyn raised his hand before Verden could speak. “I know. I know what you have come to tell me.”

“It is my duty to report on the dire situation I’m finding across the veil.”

“Thank you for your loyalty. There are so few I can rely on.” Gwyn appeared calm, almost resigned to the fact that winter was going to smother Annwyn.

Annoyance bubbled in Verden’s blood like human soft drink but far more bitter. “Is there nothing you can do to fix the rift between you and Eyra?”

“It has gone too far. Shea’s death has sealed the fate of Annwyn and set her mood to violence.”

For a moment, Verden didn’t know what to say. Did Gwyn have any idea how bad it was beyond the castle? “There is frost on the trees by the river.”

“There is nothing I can do. It all rests with Felan.”

That was a lie. Gwyn could be doing more to slow the spread. Instead, he taunted the Queen.

“How does playing games with Taryn help?” She was his, not the King’s.

Gwyn stood, his pale eyes like chips of blue ice. Winter had already filled the old King. “You forget yourself, Hunter.”

Verden bowed low. He didn’t want to be exiled and face death when the power of the Court shifted from father to son. “Of course you may pursue whoever takes your fancy.” He kept his eyes on the floor, knowing that if he looked up, the man he’d once called a friend would see the deception on his face.

“Tell my son to hurry up and get his act together next time you roll dice with him.” That was as close as the King was ever going to come to admitting it was over and that he would step aside without battle.

While it was the best possible outcome, that he was even thinking it a good thing and feeling relieved was treason. What could Verden say? Nothing. So he stayed silent.

“While you are still my Hunter, I have one other request. Arrange a hunt. I want to ride my kingdom again.” Both men knew it was possibly for the last time. Did Felan even realize how close his coronation was? The Prince needed to find a wife more quickly.

“It would be my pleasure.” It had been too long between hunts. Maybe he’d get the chance to spend some time with Taryn. Verden bowed again, this time to hide the telltale curves of a smile that wanted to form at the corners of his lips. The King was right; he couldn’t trust anyone at the moment. Not even his Hunter.

***

It was with great relief Taryn escaped dinner and made it to her room. She let the curtain across the doorway fall, an illusion of privacy, but all she was entitled to at her current status. It meant she couldn’t have any truly private conversations or liaisons. Clever. Also frustrating.

She flopped onto the bed, her forearm draped over her closed eyes as if she could block out everything. She might just hide here until the hunt tomorrow. It was another chance to see Verden in public, another chance to screw up—and so many people were watching. She was sure Sulia knew something. Felan knew everything. Too many people knew. It was no longer a secret, which meant someone would reveal it when it suited them. The goblet of nonalcoholic fairy wine she’d drunk on her way up the stairs sloshed in her stomach. She really needed a proper drink, a glass of real wine. Next time she was in the mortal world…would there be a next time?

Or would Felan be watching and waiting?

She opened her eyes, and her gaze landed on a cloth wrapped package that was on her small table. That hadn’t been there before dinner. When had the parcel arrived?

More importantly, who was it from?

She sat up and leaned over to pick up the parcel. The fabric was soft and silky; the parcel was squishy. She couldn’t afford more gifts from Sulia and wasn’t sure she wanted to get much closer to that woman. Sulia was more dangerous than she looked. However, Sulia had never wrapped anything. It had been more of a command that she’d take the gift and enjoy it.

Verden?

She took a deep breath before undoing the silvery ribbon. Her heart gave a flip-flop that made her stomach tremble. It didn’t feel like something he’d give her. The wrapping was too flash, too glittery. A dress and necklace tumbled out of the parcel and onto the bed. Deep red cloth trimmed in silver, and a jewel the color of blood and the size of her eye.

A note drifted on top of the pile.

Verden couldn’t write. Few fairies could, which limited who the gift could have come from. She picked up the note.

A
gift
for
the
hunt
tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you wear it.

No name, but whoever wrote it knew she could read, and it was written in English, with a steady hand—an educated script that looked like something that had been commonplace a hundred years ago. Someone at Court knew more about the mortal world than they were letting on. The King?

She touched the fabric; it had the feel of velvet but was much lighter. It felt expensive.

Maybe, but she doubted he’d learned to read or write after coming to power. Felan? But why would he leave her a gift? They were already allies—or were they? She’d believed what he’d said, taken his words as truth without looking deeper. Had he mislead her for his own purpose? Was he making a point after seeing her with Verden? She scrunched up the note. In leaving Annwyn with Verden, she’d gone against Felan’s orders. And yet he’d done nothing. Said nothing and he could have. He could have told his father.

She looked at the dress. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d written the note for his father.

Maybe.

Although Felan had nothing to gain by telling the King. He wanted her father back at Annwyn; helping her was the only way to achieve that. She drew in a breath. She didn’t have many options.

If she didn’t wear it, she’d be insulting whoever had left if for her, and if she wore it without knowing who’d left the gift, she could be getting herself into more trouble. She was almost hoping the King had given her the dress and jewel; that would be the simplest answer, even if she didn’t like the unspoken question.

If he was giving her a dress, was he expecting to help her out of it later?

Chapter 12

Arranging a hunt was relatively simple. Tell the shadows to prepare a picnic. Check and prepare weapons; then check the numbers of animals. A few deer, and some smaller game and birds were always kept in Annwyn for hunting. He kept the supply stable—neither too little, or the animals would suffer from lack of companionship, nor too many that they would breed and become a problem. Some were animals that had accidentally crossed the veil and decided to stay; others had deliberately been brought across. Either way, they were his responsibility.

There was only one simple rule when bringing animals to Annwyn: once they’d eaten here or drank from the river, they could never go back across the veil. Annwyn changed them. It changed everyone who lived here. He could see that now. He saw how different Taryn was to the other fairies, to him. He was no different to animals brought here for sport, trapped until his usefulness had run out. He swallowed. Hopefully he wouldn’t find an arrow in his heart or a sword at his throat.

For today he’d acquired more deer, including a couple of impressive stags. Once turned loose, he had no idea where they’d run. Many years ago, the Court would’ve hunted in the mortal world, but these days those hunts were restricted. There were too few true wilds and too many humans.

Fairy horses—animals that had once been mortal horses—came to his whistle. White hounds chased each other across the grass, tumbling and yipping with excitement. Expectation was in the air. Usually he would be thrilled to hunt; his blood would be pumping with primitive desire. He imagined that was what it would feel like to be free all the time, that the forests were his to roam, and that he was a wild fae. Did the fairies of Annwyn even realize what they’d given by breaking their ties with the mortal world and nature?

Probably not. They probably didn’t even see the gilded cage they were in. If not for Taryn, he wouldn’t have noticed even as the bars pressed against him.

He lifted his face to the sun and glanced around. Nothing seemed amiss…and yet…today something was off. Missing. He didn’t know what.

He’d checked everything, been working since dawn had lightened the sky from velvety purple to pale blue, checked everything again, and still he couldn’t displace the sense of wrongness around him. As the Lords and Ladies arrived—not all of them, just the ones held in the highest regard—he tried to ignore it. There was nothing he could do but smile and do his job. Failing wouldn’t earn him any favors, and it was clear he would need some sooner rather than later. Now Felan knew he was having an affair with Taryn, the Prince could use it against him.

He bit back the sigh. He needed a new game, but he was too tired of plotting and scheming to stay at the head of the pack. The stolen moments with Taryn in the mortal world made him ache for something simpler, something he’d thought he’d left behind long ago. Yet it was out of reach as long as he was Hunter and she needed to get her father’s pardon.

Taryn arrived looking every bit the Lady, dressed in red with rubies at her throat. She was almost dressed too well. The ill feeling in his stomach grew and festered. He held the horse for her as she mounted, the way he would for any Lady not being escorted by her current Lord or lover, his hand lingering on hers for a fraction longer than necessary.

“You look luscious.” He wanted to peel the fabric from her body kiss by kiss and savor the taste as if she were an exotic fruit not usually seen in Annwyn.

Her gaze fixed on his face for a moment. “The dress was a gift.”

“Gwyn?” He touched her knee for the merest of moments and felt the delicate fabric. An expensive dress that few could have afforded.

She nodded. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her eyes were wide, like a startled doe.

“One of us has to smile. It had better be you.” He almost choked on the words even though they were true.

“Once my parents are back—”

“One bridge at a time.” He’d once imagined his parents would be thrilled to be invited to Court, yet when he’d proved himself and invited them, they had refused. Not for them. But he knew Taryn’s parents, and he understood her love for them. Whatever it took. He glanced up at her again; she didn’t look like she could do it.

Annwyn made people make hard choices. Sometimes there wasn’t a win, only less of a fail. What would she hate more, backing out at the last moment and condemning her parents or falling into the King’s bed?

It wasn’t a choice he envied nor one he could make for her. Or one he wanted to think about. He battled to keep his hand from curling into a fist and dragging the King into a fight. That would end badly, so he forced calm. They would hunt and enjoy the day. Tonight, tonight he wanted to be taking her back across the veil instead of lying in bed alone and wondering what she was doing.