A plan formed in the back of my mind. I didn’t have an end game; I couldn’t return to Viola and John, but wasn’t life—any kind of life in the Gauntlet better than enslavement and probable death here? At least life in the human realm would make sense to me.
Hunter rushed out, “I know what you’re about to ask of me, but even if I turned around, it would achieve nothing. The bridge isn’t something I can cross on a whim. The only way to do it is by going through certain channels that keep us from going rogue and doing exactly what you’re suggesting. I know you heard what Hawk said—about how some outlaws have tried to capture us. That’s an understatement. Don’t let their pretty speeches fool you: they’re brutal when it comes to getting what they want. And yet, they never got it. Not because we couldn’t break …” He trailed off, either from sadness or uncertainty. I couldn’t tell.
I tried to finish his thought. “You didn’t break because …” My mind whirled, fitting his words into a scenario that made sense. Fearing a worse punishment didn’t quite feel right.
They’ve been bound to silence. Spelled. Either that, or they’re just ignorant of the process.
The feminine voice sounded clearer. As her words sunk in, my mouth dropped. “Is something stopping you from saying? Or d’you not know how you’re crossing over to the Gauntlet?”
Hunter’s smooth flight rhythm was interrupted by a burst of speed. My gut roiled. When he slowed again, I groaned, “Unless, you want me to be sick, don’t do that again.”
He dipped his head to me and stared. “Sorry. You just surprised me.”
I thought it was much more likely I’d made him nervous, but I didn’t challenge him on it.
“Look … I can’t talk about this anymore.” His stare took on a dazzling intensity. “D’you understand?”
I nodded mindlessly, too frustrated and miserable to find the words.
Hunter continued. “I’m sure you’ll want to bite my head off for saying it, but I really don’t get why you’d want to go back—”
“I wasn’t planning on going home. They’d never believe I hadn’t killed Gus, or at least helped you do it. If they caught me,” I paused to gulp and wet my now bone-dry mouth. “I’d burn.” The stark truth made me want to scream and cry and rage.
“Why would they think you’d help us? Or murder someone, for that matter?” Hunter asked softly, thoughtfully.
I had no answer for him.
He interpreted this as guilt. “Whatever your crimes were, they cease to matter. Our lands don’t recognize human laws, you can tell me—”
I flushed hot. “I’m not a criminal!”
“If you’re innocent, why did they put you in that cage?”
Sly ass. He certainly knew how to interrogate. The silence stretched between us. Expectant. Waiting. “Serena, please. Tell me.”
I didn’t want his pity, but the plea in his voice broke me. Maybe a part of me needed to say it. Viola always said confessing eased the soul.
I told him as much as I could stomach. My father’s death, Elain’s cruelty, Gus’s first assault. I sketched out the basics from the trial and my imprisonment in the cage, not wanting to linger. Finally, I moved on to what Gus had tried to do, and what he’d confessed. That he’d helped my stepmother kill my father. I hadn’t said it out loud before—I’d dismissed it as a lie. But after telling him everything in one go like that, it became painfully obvious: there was nothing they weren’t capable of.
That truth … it was too much to bear. Elain, my tormentor, had made me into an orphan. And I hadn’t tried harder to make my father see her for what she was. Why hadn’t I tried harder? Why? The answer came swift, shredding every leash and tether on my grief. I’d felt that if I kept pushing him, he’d choose her. Believe her over me. And if I’d been braver, louder … maybe he’d still be alive. My every emotion came screaming, roaring to the surface.
Something must’ve shown in my scent, because Hunter gripped me a little tighter. “Serena?” A note of panic.
I couldn’t answer him. I couldn’t think. His body was too hot; too close. The air burned and clawed at my throat. Tears sprung beneath my lashes. One, two, and then the memory of his coffin being lowered into the dirt like my mother, years before, shattered me so thoroughly that angry, guilty sobs exploded out and cleaved the night. It was too much, too overwhelming: I collapsed into myself. With my body trembling, I clawed at my hair, pulling at it, wanting this to be over. I’d drown in this—I wanted to drown in it.
Hunter went into a nosedive.
My grief-stricken bones cried out in fear. And instinct took over. I reached out, clinging to him and burying my face into his neck, not caring how close it made us. We free-fell for longer than I could stand. When he did snap his wings out, the resulting jolt sent me into a coughing fit. Sick with adrenaline, I was now a hiccuping, sobbing, retching mess.
Hunter landed in the forest and nestled in among a tree’s gnarled roots. His bag, his wings, and his quiver and bow now pressed into his back, but he didn’t dump me on the floor or strike me in the way Kesha had. He kept me in his arms. “I know.” His voice heavy, he repeated, “I know.”
I believed him. Hunter had felt this—a sadness so intense it made me want to rip my way out of my body to escape the weight of it. And just like that, I was too tired to rage at the world. My head slumped against his chest and my body went limp, occasionally wracked with another hiccup. The tears still flowed whenever the memories forced their way back over the wall in my mind—the wall that eventually blotted out the emotions, letting blessed numbness take over.
We didn’t move or speak for a long time. We just sat huddled together in the dark. If only John and Viola could see me now … What would they think? Would they judge me—hate me—for not loathing a fae? For seeking comfort? Something told me … no. Not if they’d gone through what I had in the last few days.
“I’m sorry,” I finally croaked out.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me those things.” He sounded so sad. “All the same, I’m glad you did. I can sleep easier knowing when I knocked Gus out cold and left Kesha to finish him off, it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving human.”
“You—you weren’t the one,” I started, wonderingly. “Kesha did that to him, not you?”
“If I was going to kill him, I’d have snapped his neck.”
Another piece of him settled into place.
“I never said thank you,” I breathed.
His chin dipped a little, waiting.
“You saved my life that night.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice grew hoarse as he added, “I know that to humans we’re the monsters, but I have to be honest—your kind don’t seem much better.”
“They’re not,” I admitted, thinking of home.
“But it doesn’t stop you wanting to leave.” He was hesitant, questioning. Before I could say anything, he continued with deliberate slowness. “After everything you’ve gone through, wouldn’t you be happier here in the long run?”
Gods, talk about twisting my words. I wriggled out of his grip and he let me. Vaulting upward, I strode a few paces away before turning to stare down at him. “Can’t you see what you’re doing?”
Nothing. I couldn’t even see his face in the dark. Only the vague outline of a body. I directed my words and anger at that. “You’re trying to justify your actions. You keep doing this! Pretending it’s fine to kidnap someone by making this about how terrible things were in the Gauntlet. And this probably won’t matter to you, but it wasn’t all bad for me. I had people who loved me. Two people who took me in as their own.” I wobbled, but surged on. “If I’d stayed, I might’ve seen them again. When you took me and force-fed me a sleeping potion, you stole that from me. You took the last shred of hope: the only good thing I had left.”
Hunter sighed heavily. The rustle and crack of undergrowth made me squint. What was he doing? I tracked his outline as he moved out of the tree’s shadow.
“What are—”
“Building a fire. It’s Aldar springtime but the nights are still cold, and without my warmth, you’ll begin to feel it in just that dress of yours.”