He froze. Everything about his body screamed that this wasn’t something he was happy about. Interesting.
Hunter seemed to have stalled, as if he’d thought better of telling me more. I scrambled up to stand next to him and quickly gave his hand a jostle. He shifted ever so slightly, staring down at where my hand had been. It gave me a twinge of unease, but I’d needed to keep him talking. “Go on.”
Something loosened in his core, and the ice he’d been encased in melted.
“Morgan conquered three out of the four courts barely eighteen years ago. One after the other.” Such glum tones. Again, interesting. “She created the Wild Hunt with the sole purpose of tracking down the former queen of Solar. Sefra was meant to be powerful—one of the few who could stand up to Morgan—but she fled her own court to avoid a confrontation. That should give you a feeling for how feared the witch is.”
Hunter looked miserable when he added, “Morgan eventually declared her dead, and ten years after her conquests, she did the impossible. She found a way for the Hunt to cross the divide and bring back humans. She opened up slave markets in Solar and Aurora. So do you see, now, why I don’t want you near those lands? She’s the one responsible for the disappearances—for the enslavement of your kind.”
I frowned. It felt like he was shifting the blame. “Weren’t you going to send Brandon and Billy to the Solar Court?”
Hunter looked uneasy. “There was no choice. You must be over sixteen to train in one of Diana’s camps in the Riverlands, and they didn’t have magic. There was no other place for them.”
I bit down on the tirade I wished to hurl his way. “Why does your boss hate humans so much?”
Hunter flinched but answered in a steady voice. “Her official reason for hunting them is that we needed numbers, and you produce quicker than us.”
I tried to keep my voice even as I asked, “Why would she need the numbers if she’s conquered most of Aldar already?”
He sighed. “There are neighboring fae kingdoms across the seas to the east. She thinks further conflict with them is inevitable. Ever since she’s been in power, she’s been pushing for humans to drive up our numbers and fill out the ranks, either as servants or foot soldiers. Anything to keep an invading host at bay.”
An icy tingle ran the length of my spine. “How would humans even work in your armies? What good would we be against a horde of fae?”
He shifted, casting a sidelong glance my way. “Most fights between fae happen in the air, but humans can be used to pick off our enemies that fall to the ground. Or if our enemy also has human soldiers, then those two armies would face one another on the battlefield. How many humans each side has can often be the deciding factor in a war: it’s how the Aldarian fae were driven from our homeland,” he added sadly. “We had raw power on our side, but in the end, we were overwhelmed by the opposing human army and their vast numbers.”
I was lost again. “Your homeland?”
Hunter blinked. Then added, “Sorry—I forgot who I was speaking to. The Aldarian fae used to live in those kingdoms to the east with our brethren, but there were endless conflicts and wars, so we fled.” The line of his jaw tightened.
Absorbing his words, I struggled to align them with my mortal knowledge. I’d no reason to believe Hunter would lie, but if humans had once ruled these lands alone, no one in the Gauntlet had known about it. No history book or scholar had even suggested it.
A terrifying idea interrupted this string of thought and caused me to blurt out, “So, these other fae—that you used to live among and that you fled from—if they attacked Aldar, do you have enough humans and fae to defeat them?”
Hunter regarded me. “Honestly, I don’t know. Because despite the efforts of the Hunt, there still aren’t that many humans in Aldar, and most of them are witches living in the Crescent. Morgan holds the High Witch position in their lands, but the clans’ support is based on conditions. One of which is that Morgan doesn’t take slaves from the Crescent, so she can’t compel them to fight if the time came.”
“And there’s no way you could take me there? To be with Isabel?”
“The witch clans won’t shelter you unless you’ve got magic in your blood. Do you think there’s any chance you might?” He scanned me doubtfully.
“No.” My stomach dropped in disappointment. “I’d know, wouldn’t I?”
“Not necessarily. Give me your hand.” Hunter held out his palm, expectant.
I didn’t move. “Why?”
His hand lowered. “If you’ve got magic in your blood, I’ll be able to taste it.”
“You want to drink my blood?” I tried to hide my disgust but failed, apparently.
Hunter’s mouth thinned and turned down in disapproval. “If your magic’s particularly weak, then you might not be aware you have any. This is the only way I can be sure.”
That made sense, kind of. I peered down at my hand and stalled for time. “Would they still take me if my magic was weak?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Wielding magic sounded more appealing than becoming a soldier. Could I trust Hunter to do this? Did I have a choice?
“Take it.” I held my palm flat out.
His canines grew, and my stomach turned. There was a tenderness in the way he enveloped my hand with his and brought my palm up to his lips. He stopped just before he bit down and eyed me. I nodded, and he sunk his teeth into the fleshy pad under my thumb.
A shudder of disgust and a flinch of pain ran through me as his tongue lapped up my heart’s blood. Suddenly he stilled, his nostrils flared, and his back stiffened. He unstuck his teeth and released my palm. I couldn’t read his expression.
“What is it?” I pressed down on the pinprick wounds in my palm to stop the blood flow.
“I don’t sense magic.” Disappointment thudded into my gut. “But you taste unusual. There’s a heat to your blood, and it’s saltier than—” Hunter’s eyes bulged and he grabbed for his throat.
“What’s wrong?” I bleated, unnerved.
He retched, wheeling away from the fire to stick his fingers in his mouth. I rushed to his side just as vomit splashed to the ground. I crinkled my nose, trying to stop the sour stench from filling my nostrils.
“Water,” he cried out, still clutching his throat.
I scrambled over to his satchel and rummaged around for a water bottle. Grabbing one, I hurried over to shove it under his nose. He snatched it, straightened, and took two deep swigs. Once he’d finished, he coughed to clear his throat a couple of times and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“What was that?” I asked shakily. “I know I haven’t washed in a while, but it couldn’t have been that bad.”
He wet his lips again. “It wasn’t the smell—it was the taste of salt and iron.” He shuddered and put the cap back on the flask. “I’ve never known a human to carry so much in their blood it could make a fae sick.”
I turned over what he’d let slip. The fae had a weakness, then. Salt and iron could be my new best friends in a world that saw my kind as things. “Do the fae often taste humans?”
Hunter moved, chucking the skin on top of the rucksack. Turning to me, he said, “Biting’s one way we subdue our prey or establish dominance over others. It’s also used on faelings if they act out.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s barbaric.”
Hunter shrugged. “Our lives are long. Harsh words and pain fade, but our scars leave us with a permanent reminder, once our memories fail.”
I blinked. That way of thinking was so alien, so ancient, and yet it made sense. When their minds failed to recall centuries-worth of memories, their bodies could act as maps to anchor them to their past.
I looked down and traced the puncture marks with my finger. He was right—the pain was already fading.