Lord of the Hunt (23 page)

“Very well. When the time comes, I will ask for your aid and you will provide it. In return, I will keep your loyalty in mind when reforming the Court.”

“Thank you, Prince.” Verden looked at him. “But I may not remain at Court come spring.”

“Ah.” Felan nodded. It was sometimes what wasn’t said that meant more. Verden was done with Court. The only reason he was here now was to try and keep Taryn away from Gwyn. Come spring, he was planning a life with her. Felan wanted to tell Verden the truth about his father and that it was all for show, but it didn’t matter whether it was real or not, as the result was the same. Verden couldn’t be with Taryn while the King still held her hand.

“I have business that takes me to the fringes tonight. Will you attend her?”

Felan looked at Verden. He looked worn, troubled, and heartsick—he knew because he’d looked that way seven years ago. It gave him hope. He wouldn’t make his parents’ mistake. He wanted love. He’d had it once and had walked away. This time he would fight. And win. He couldn’t fail.

“I will watch over her.” It was the best he could do.

Verden turned away, his fingers wound in the horse’s mane as if he were preparing to leave.

“If you knew who plotted against me, you’d tell me?”

The Hunter swung himself onto the horse. “If I knew, I would. I swore to Gwyn, but I intend to swear to you and no one else come spring. Claim your bride, claim the throne, and I shall be kneeling at the front.”

“One thing at a time.”

“I don’t envy you. Humans are a strange bunch.”

Felan laughed. “That they are, but I am happy with my fate. I hope yours works out the way you’ve planned.”

Verden gave a single nod and turned the horse. Felan watched him ride away. Happy wasn’t the right word. He wanted happy.

***

The horse galloped over the grass, following the river that divided Annwyn from the Elysian Fields. Occasionally, through the mist on the other side, Verden glimpsed shapes, but for the most part it was hidden. Not even fairies knew what happened on the other side. After he’d put some distance between him and the castle, he let the horse slow. He was past the hamlets that clustered near the edges and supplied the castle with clothes and shoes, and into the forest. His horse picked a path along the trails made by deer and horse. Last time he’d come this way, he’d been on foot and it had taken several days of travel.

He’d never been home since.

I didn’t have time

That was the excuse he’d told himself, but the truth was he didn’t know how to face the parents who warned him not to go, begged him not to leave. Had taken him across the veil to try and convince him that the mortal world was better than Court, but he’d gotten it into his head that he wanted to be someone of standing, not just a farmer’s son, and had gone.

The only thing in his head this morning was a dull ache that was echoed in his heart. Temporary. But what if her feelings changed? Temporary. What if his feelings changed? Temporary. He wanted to ride back to Court, kidnap her, and take her with him.

He needed the night away or he might change his mind and take her across the veil. This would be easier if he didn’t have to see her at all. Tomorrow night was the dance and they had other partners, so it would be easy to avoid her. Who was he fooling? Not himself.

She was lodged under his skin and he didn’t want to pull out the splinter no matter how much pain it caused him. It reminded him why he was doing this. As Felan had said, come spring, things will be different. All he and Taryn had to do was wait out the change in season.

And then he would have to decide if he wanted to remain at Court. He hadn’t lied; Taryn wasn’t a Court fairy, but he didn’t know if he was cut out to be a Brownie, the highest ranked fairy in the mortal world, or just a drifter, a fairy that flitted between worlds and made a real life in neither.

He was going home to see if this third option was viable, as well as to see his parents—if they still lived. A new ache formed. He shouldn’t have left it so long. What if they had died? He might be loyal to Gwyn, but he was a poor son. His father had deserved better.

Taryn was doing everything she could to save her father. Her loyalty and love for her family came first, while he’d thrown it away like a pair of old shoes. He’d sold himself to the highest bidder and not looked back. Now he’d let her go. What kind of man was he?

He had to let her go so she could get the pardon. Her family came first. While she did that, this was his chance to make amends with his family.

The doubt increased the closer he got. What if his parents weren’t there, or if they wouldn’t see him? He wanted to see them before winter. He wanted them to know he’d done well and brought honor to the family. He wanted them to know things were in flux. He wanted to know how his father had known to marry his mother. How they knew it was the right thing to do. It had been a long time since he’d done the right thing instead of the expected thing—and the two were quite often very different.

How did he tell love from the thrill of the chase and the lure of the forbidden? He’d meant it when the words had slipped past his lips. But had it been the whiskey?

The sky was deepening to purple when the forest thinned and the small farmhouses came into sight. Spread out along the hills, some were grander than others, but this was where the milk came from for the cheeses and cakes; the honey was gathered from the hives at the edges of the forest. The berries for wine would be farmed to his right, just over the rise. If he climbed the hill, he’d be high enough to see a curve in the river.

That was something most never realized. He had simply from riding and observing. Annwyn was an island. Around it was the river of damned and on the other side the Elysian Fields. Annwyn was a dot. A tiny portal through which souls passed. Without the fairies colonizing it and drawing on the power and stabilizing the river, the human population would have never expanded and progressed the way it had. Fairies had given humans the space to flourish without death bleeding through and stalking them at every turn.

For a moment longer, he watched the houses.

The horse stamped her feet beneath him, impatient for food and rest. He could do with the same. Maybe if his parents weren’t there, he’d at least be able to beg a bed and meal. He had coins with him, oak and ash, the smaller valued ones, as unscrupulous fairies didn’t always live at Court.

He urged the horse forward and went toward the small stone house that had been standing long before his parents had lived there and would no doubt be standing long after.

A man with dark blond hair, cut short and spiky, stopped his work. He leaned on a staff and watched Verden approach. Around him milled a few white cows with rust-colored tips on their ears. That had been his job once, to bring the cows in at dusk and to make sure they didn’t wander into the river.

“And who might you be?” the man said as Verden drew close.

“Verden ap Hollis.” He left off the third name he was entitled to use as part of the King’s council. Out here that wouldn’t win him any favors.

The man’s gaze skimmed over his clothing. “Bit far from Court aren’t you?”

Verden considered for a moment before answering. He was so used to revealing as little as possible that even answering straightforward questions was hard—except when he was around Taryn. If he turned around now and fled back to the castle, he’d always wonder. He didn’t want that. He needed to know. “My parents used to run this farm, I came to see how they fare. Perhaps I’m too late.”

The thought weighed heavy. He should have come home sooner, but somehow he’d become caught up in the games and had lost track of time. If Taryn had never arrived, he may never have realized how hollow his life had become.

“Ap Hollis you say? Guess that makes us brothers.”

Verden was so well trained at keeping his thoughts private that he was sure no flickers of shock crossed his face, but he felt it like a sword to the gut. Sharp and painful, and possibly fatal. He had a brother. No one had sent word.

“Brothers?”

“Aye, Beynon ap Fira.” He gave a half bow. “Did you get yourself kicked out and come back?”

Is that what everyone thought would happen? Were they waiting for him to come home with his tail between his legs like a bad puppy? Verden smiled, his teeth showing. “You’re speaking to the Lord of the Hunt.”

His brother blanched. “I meant no offense, Lord.” He bowed again, this time slowly and deliberately showing full respect.

“None taken. This time.” While this man was family, he didn’t know him and he couldn’t let it be said that he relaxed amongst the commoners. He had status to maintain. Always maintain. Always fighting to hold on and prove he was still at the top. He knew Gwyn wouldn’t cast him down so close to the end, but then it would start again with Felan. He wanted off the never-ending path that led nowhere yet promised to take you everywhere.

Beynon looked at him again; this time there was more than casual interest in his gaze. “I grew up hearing how you’d left for Court. Ma and Da never imagined you’d get that far. Lord of the Hunt. Big jump from herding cows.”

“It took time, luck, and a gamble that I was lucky paid off.”

“That’s what Court’s about isn’t it? Just a gamble based on lies.”

What could he tell his brother that would emphasize Court’s importance, yet diminish its attraction? He didn’t want his parents to lose another son to the giddy lure.

“It’s beautiful and everything you imagine. Like dancing on the blade of a sword and wondering if you’re next step will be your last, and yet you can’t stop, because if you stand still it’s certain failure.”

“Is that why you came back? We’ve seen the frost on the ground in the mornings and the choppy river that swells every day. We aren’t stupid. Winter is coming isn’t it?”

“Let’s have this conversation inside.”

After a moment, Beynon nodded. “Remember how to herd cows?”

“Yes.” He longed for the simplicity he knew he’d never find at Court. No wonder Gwyn was tired and wasn’t going to resist when Felan took over. It wasn’t just about what was best for Annwyn; it was also what was best for him. Maybe Verden needed to do the same, walk away and not look back. However, he’d been at Court for most of his life and the idea of turning his back and losing everything he’d spend so long working for rankled. That was the trap. Once in, if you threw down your hand, you lost everything. Few who came to Court left willingly.

He nudged the horse forward. In silence, the brothers herded the cows into their pen for the night. He left the horse untied, knowing that he could always call it back if it wandered and no one here would even try to touch the King’s horses.

The house was much as he remembered, stone with a thatched roof. His parents were well-off by farming standards, but he could see why the Court looked down their noses and called them peasants. There was a coarseness to the work, a rough edge that had taken many mortal years for Verden to smooth off once he’d arrived at Court. Before they got close, a man came out of the house. At first glance, he looked no older than Verden or Beynon, but his eyes gave away his age—pale with a brittle look. While his flesh hadn’t aged, his spirit had. Like all old fairies, he had taken on a look as if he only had one foot in Annwyn and the other had already crossed over. Translucence wasn’t quite the right word, as his father looked solid—and yet there seemed to be less of him.

“Well, look who’s come back before the snow arrives.” Hollis crossed his arms.

“Da, this is
the
Hunter.”

“I changed his swaddling long before he swapped common sense for courtly lies. Now he’s come home just before the season changes.”

Verden winced. Time hadn’t eased his father’s opinion of Court. “I’m not home to stay. I came to see how you fared.”

His father snorted. “After all this time? Why now? What trouble are you in?”

All kinds of trouble, but there was no point in giving his father flashy lies and courtly half-truths. It wasn’t what he’d come here for. “I’ve fallen in love and sometime soon I’m going to have to make a decision that will affect the rest of my life. When the King is dethroned, I will lose my place.”

For all of Felan’s assurances that he wouldn’t end up exiled or banished, he wasn’t sure he could stand being at Court, listening to the others whisper about his loss of status, a loss he could never regain. No matter what he did, Felan would never make him Hunter or even part of the Council.

“That close, eh?” Hollis looked at him. Despite his age he was still sharp.

Verden just nodded.

“Best you come in and have some of our wine and bread if you haven’t grown too fancy to eat with what’s left of your family.”

Verden’s heart stopped for a moment. “What’s left? Where’s Ma?”

Hollis put his hand on Verden’s shoulder. “She’d been wasting for a few years. One morning she didn’t wake up.”

“You should have sent word.”

“Would you have come?”

“Yes. Of course I would.” He would’ve, wouldn’t he? Dropped everything to see his mother one last time? What kind of person had he become when he couldn’t even be sure of that?

Hollis shook his head. “I didn’t want to force you home and I didn’t want your homecoming to be tinged by death.”

Yet it was. But not his mother’s. His father was wasting. Old fairies withered as if not even the power of Annwyn was enough. Did Beynon even realize?

The inside of the house was much the same as Verden remembered, cozy in a way his chambers at Court could never be. Again he felt the ring of hollowness in his bones, only this time it was louder. The time he spent in the mortal world with Taryn was precious because it was real and untarnished. That was why he felt alive in her arms. Why had he ever suggested breaking up with her? She should be with him now. Except she couldn’t be; no doubt she’d be playing cards with the King. His stomach rolled as if full of whiskey again.

Do
not
think
about
it.

Just wait.