Lord of the Hunt (19 page)

He turned slowly, as if pondering whom to choose as his partner for the midsummer dance. His gaze locked with hers for a second. Her heart swelled with hope even though she knew it wouldn’t happen. She hoped he’d break rank and choose her, say “damn you all and screw your petty rules and manners.” He wanted to—she could see it in his eyes, but she could also see the way he was so tightly bound to the Court; he wouldn’t step out of line without choking himself on the bonds. He would do as required.

“With your permission, the Queen.” Verden’s voice was flat, as if the prospect gave him no joy, yet he said it with a smile and took her hand with grace. He had behaved exactly as the King had wanted. The Queen couldn’t feel slighted, as she was picked first, and the King was now free to choose.

This was all so wrong. While she’d never fainted in her life, she was sure this was what it would feel like. The world was closing in and trapping her; she couldn’t breathe; she wanted to run to the nearest doorway, cross the veil, and never come back. Then the King was lifting her hand to his lips and she was smiling like a trained monkey.

This was not her life. This would not be her life.

It would end today. The King had picked her, fine, but he would bring her parents back or she would not dance with him. She would refuse to take this any further. And when he pardoned her father and expected more from her? She really hoped Felan had been telling the truth and that the King was acting for show and nothing more. The bundle of knots in her stomach didn’t ease and neither did the feeling that she was wading out past her depth and about to get caught in a riptide.

After the choices were made, everyone sat and conversation bubbled around her. Sulia hadn’t gotten the Prince. Felan had instead chosen a lesser-ranked woman, Dylis, who was rumored to be sharing his bed and spending too much time in the mortal world for her to be very popular. The only reason she’d been invited was because of her relationship to Felan. Some suspected she was working for him, others that she was using him to keep status at Court while she played in the mortal world. Either way, she wasn’t popular with the Queen’s Ladies because she wasn’t doing as she was told.

Sulia was looking peeved, and the Queen looked murderous, as usual. Verden looked like he could do with a stiff drink or three, and Taryn would be tempted to join him. She took another glass of wine. They called it wine, yet she had never gotten the least bit tipsy off it. Getting drunk would probably break all kind of rules…maybe she should slip some vodka into their drinks at midsummer and see what happened. She managed to swallow the laugh that caught in her throat but couldn’t hide the true grin.

“What is so amusing, Taryn?” Verden seized the opportunity to talk to her.

Her first response was to say nothing, but that would end the conversation. “That this wine doesn’t seem to get me drunk.”

A few heads turned in her direction. Oh great, check out the freakish fairy raised in the mortal world.

“When you are drunk, your guard is lowered. That would be dangerous here.” The King’s fingers trailed up her back.

She ignored him and the unspoken warning, her attention on Verden and the way a few strands of his hair hung around his face as if they’d broken free of the tie and refused to be tamed. “But wouldn’t it be nice to just relax and not worry about everything just once?”

Verden nodded, but it was the Queen that spoke. “That is what the festivals are for, a chance to revel.”

“Have you picked a theme?” Verden looked away from her and back to the Queen. He knew the games too well and would never misstep, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“I have.” The Queen looked at Taryn. “We will dress as wild fae.”

Verden gave a perceivable flinch. “An intriguing choice.”

Taryn drank the rest of her alcohol-free wine. It wasn’t as though the Queen was going to pick a simple or commonplace theme. For a moment she wondered what the Court would make of the Halloween parties she’d attended. They had been fun, but she had no doubt that this party would be just another chance for scheming and backstabbing and power grabbing. She could hardly wait—not.

She tuned out the chatter about wild fae. No doubt Sulia would fill her in later, or one of the other Ladies would tell her she was doing it wrong—or they’d just laugh. Whatever. She didn’t want to be here. She just wanted the pardon for her father and then she’d be free to be with Verden. The only problem would be when she wanted to go home to the mortal world and he wanted to stay.

He only liked the mortal world when there were no mortals. She’d have to show him more, change his mind, because the alternative was that she stayed here, where they would never be free to do as they wanted and people would always be scheming around them.

“You seem distracted.” The King leaned closer, attentive. His age was showing in his pale eyes, the blue paler, harder, and older than it had been the first time she’d seen him. His eyes were giving him away. He might look thirty, but his eyes were brittle, like he’d seen too many centuries and played too many games at Court.

This was her opportunity. She’d played the games and had earned his attention. She turned to him. “I am. I sit here and play and hunt and laugh while my parents face death.”

The King blinked and considered her. “Your father could have served as a shadow for a year and a day. He chose exile. Your mother chose to follow him. We are all free to make choices.”

He chose exile. The words sank in and numbed her. Her gaze flicked to where the dark faceless, nameless shadows waited orders. As awful as the punishment was, it was only a year and a day. Exile could last decades. Now exile was a death sentence. Had her father stopped to think or had his pride gotten in the way? Did he really have a choice the way the King said, or was a deal made so he had to cross the veil?

“Are any of us really free?” Was she free to get up, walk over to Verden, and kiss him in front of everyone? She doubted it. “Has my father not served long enough in the mortal world?”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.” Power rippled off him; she should back away and let things be. But she couldn’t—not when this might be her only chance to discuss her father with the King.

“So you are free, the rest of us just suffer at your pleasure.” She met his gaze even though it chilled her to the core.

“You know nothing about suffering. You are young and brash and know nothing of our ways. When you have lived as long as I have, you will see a far bigger picture, and while you think you are the center of your universe, like all youth, you will see that you are a speck.”

“I’d rather be a speck with compassion than a king with none.”

He laughed, deep and mirthless. “You have no idea about what you speak. You tell your father that when he is ready to serve as a shadow for a year and a day he can come back.”

Her heart gave a joyful bounce. She’d done it! Her father and mother could come to Annwyn and be safe—if her father served his original sentence. Her glee withered at the realization.

Her father had sought to avoid the penalty once by leaving. Would he agree to serve now? She recalled the argument with her parents when they’d told her she was coming to Court. The looks and the unspoken words. Her father wishing to put things right. He knew this is what the King would demand of him—it was her mother who didn’t want that to happen. It didn’t matter. If this was what it took for them to live surely, they would grasp it. She was going to hold on and nail this deal down.

Taryn smiled at the King, but it was cool and measured. “I’m not allowed to leave Court.” She hoped he wouldn’t hear the lie in her words, that he didn’t know from Felan that she was sneaking off with Verden. This was getting complicated when she wanted simple. She just wanted the Hunter.

“I’ll escort you myself so you can hear the excuses from your father’s lips. You want to hold anyone in contempt, hold him. His pride got in the way.”

“His pride got in your way. Would you sentence him and my mother to death in the mortal world?”

“She made her choice. She chose love over duty.” He looked at her, into her, and a chill settled around her. His fingers touched her cheek. “I wonder how far the seed has fallen from the tree. Watch your step, Taryn, as even my reach extends only so far. If you fall, I may not be able to help you.”

He pulled back, but she put her hand on his arm.

“I have your word that if my father agrees to serve the Court as a shadow servant for one year and a day, they can come back?”

“You have my word.” He kissed her hand, but his lips were nothing like Verden’s. Where the Hunter’s eyes were molten with desire, the King’s were cold with control. But he was a fairy and his word was good—or should be.

She didn’t smile this time. With him, she was cold and dead inside, and she could only fake it so far. Instead, she met his gaze. She needed to end this game. “When will you take me across the veil?”

He looked at her for a heartbeat. “You remind me of your mother more and more.” Taryn wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. “Your love for your parents surpasses all other protocol.”

“Isn’t that how it should be? The love between parents and children should be exempt from the games and deals?” However, it probably wasn’t. Nothing was sacred or special here.

“It should be.” He glanced at his son. “I will take you after the midsummer festival. You’d best hope your father gives you the response you so desperately desire or his pride may damn him again.” Then he turned away and spoke to Felan.

She wanted to collapse with relief that the worst was over. All she had to do was get through the festival and then she would be free to do what she wanted.

Chapter 13

“I don’t want to go to the wilds tonight. I need a drink or three.” Taryn leaned against a tree. Ever since the hunt, she’d looked tense. On one hand Verden didn’t blame her, but on the other she wasn’t playing the game properly.

“Where do you want to go?” He’d hoped for somewhere where they could be alone, but maybe that was the last thing they needed.

She lifted her gaze from the ground to look at him. “Take me to a pub where we can drink and laugh and kiss and not care what anyone thinks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pub?”

“A ye olde tavern where people buy ale. We could celebrate the deal?”

“We could,” he said carefully.

“But?” She raised an eyebrow.

They were taking a risk every time they crossed the veil and he wasn’t sure there was anything to celebrate yet. The deal she’d made with the King seemed too easy. “He hasn’t released you has he?”

She pulled a face that involved curling her lip and rolling her eyes at him. “Not in as many words.”

“Then you are still bound to him even after the pardon is granted.”

“What?” She stood up, instead of slouching against the tree. “But once they are back, I don’t have to make nice with him.”

He shook his head. She still didn’t get the finer points. “You are his until he says; until he decides to move on or you fall out of favor.”

Her lips parted and for a moment she said nothing. She didn’t have to; the horror was written all over her face. “No.”

“Yes, Taryn. That’s how it is. You secured the pardon but not your own freedom. The game isn’t over. We are still skirting the edges of disaster.” He could feel the icy fingers reaching for him every time he touched her. And yet, like a moth, he taunted death with every breath. He couldn’t resist her and didn’t want to. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms. “You think I enjoyed sitting there, watching you and Gwyn? You think I wanted to pick the Queen? You think I like this any better than you?”

He hated it. It was like having his heart served up to him at every opportunity and each time it had to be cut out afresh.

Her eyes widened. “No. I thought I was done. I hate this hiding. It’s dumb.”

“Dumb?” He let her go. “Fine, let’s see, we go public and I lose my position. Your parents lose their chance of a pardon. Gwyn loses face, and we both get exiled at best, banished at worst.” The skin between his shoulder blades cooled as if touched by frost. They could both be thrown in the river, but he didn’t even want to voice that option. “I don’t know about you, but I enjoy living.”

“This isn’t living. This is dying very, very slowly.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Do you want this over? Is that it?” That would be the smart option, the easy option. It would hurt for a while, but wounds healed. He was sure his heart would heal once she had gone back to the mortal world she held so dear. But Annwyn would be so much emptier without her. He’d be going through the motions, dancing the right steps until Felan took away his rank and privilege simply because he’d supported the old King. He might as well be dead without the stolen kisses from Taryn to look forward to.

He cupped Taryn’s chin and tilted it so she had to look at him. “At least look me in the eye and tell me it’s over. Have that courtesy.”
Don’t be like the other women at Court.

She took several breaths before speaking. “I don’t want this over, but I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Everyone, everything. They all want something from me. The King, the Queen—even you.”

“You want something too, Taryn. It’s why you came here. It’s why you’re with me.” Those words hurt him to say more than they should have. They had an arrangement and it was working, and yet neither of them was happy.
Because
it
was
no
longer
a
straight
trade.
He wanted more than sex and trips across the veil. The rush of excitement was being replaced by the worry that someone was watching, waiting to catch them.

She shook her head and blinked as tears pooled in her eyes. Was she going to cry? Fairies never cried—or if they did, they never let anyone see.

His thumb brushed across her cheek. “You’re doing well. Just keep it together for a little longer.”

And he had to do the same.

“I don’t want to be his. I want to be yours.”