I tried and failed to swallow that insult with good grace. “What changed?”
Hunter went on. “We evolved. We had to if we wanted to survive. Fae find it difficult to conceive,” he explained, “so we couldn’t allow ourselves to be ruled by passion, waging a war every other week. I don’t know when or how, but the ancient fae say our society adapted, becoming more refined: more rigid. Colder.”
“So, is it possible for a fae to be friends with a human?” The words spilled out before I could clamp down and shove them in a dark hole where they belonged.
Hunter stared straight ahead, fixated on Kasi. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had any, and certainly no human ones.”
His voice was a murmur. And maybe it was that, or the sad eyes that made me say, “You could use some practice, then. Why don’t we try being friends?”
I cringed at my pathetic attempt to forge a connection, but at least he didn’t laugh in my face. But he did blink slowly, and then he peered down at me.
“You’d want to be? With me… After what I did to you?” His words carried such hesitancy and hopefulness.
Things felt too serious, too overwhelming. “Only if you don’t mind being friends with an emotional human.”
My lip twitched. I needed him to smile with me.
Thankfully, Hunter beamed and his eyes shone. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” His eyes flitted behind me, and my stomach did a funny turn. “We’re here, aren’t we?”
A nod set my pulse racing. Hunter circled in for a landing. I looked down and there it was: Kasi Camp. A palisade of dark oak made up the outer walls, which stood roughly twenty feet high. Two watch towers and a walkway held the guards on patrol. Inside the walls, mismatched wood and stone structures had been built of varying sizes, each one connected to a path. The landmarks included a small lake with still midnight waters. Above this was a large circular ring of sand, with a stable crowning it and two buildings adjacent. A stone structure with stacks of weapons out front rested on the left, while on the right lay an arena with no roof, and rows of ascending benches inside.
A call came from a watchtower. “Hunter! Is that you?”
My eyes tracked a dusky-skinned fae with pine-green wings who rose to meet us.
“Elias.” Hunter nodded in acknowledgement. “I’ve brought you another recruit.”
The male scanned my face and body. A line formed between his brows, and his mouth thinned in silent disappointment. Withering under the scrutiny, fighting to hold his gaze, I waited for his judgment.
“You’re a bit late with this one.” His mouth dipped as he added, “The other recruits are nearly halfway through the training cycle.”
My breath seized in my chest. What would that mean for me?
“Hilda’s taken on people late before,” Hunter pointed out.
“True.” Elias scanned me again as if seeking some hidden potential—a reason for why I was here.
I stared him down, the whole while not breathing.
“Very well. Bert’s in the usual place.”
I breathed again.
Elias didn’t stop to say goodbye before gliding back to his post. And with a few flaps of Hunter’s wings, we passed over the wall and began the descent.
All too aware of the fae’s sensitive hearing, I leaned in to whisper, “Are you still sure this is the right place? If the others are halfway through, how am I going to catch up? I hardly have any muscles as it is.”
“Hilda’s an honorable warrior; she values courage and a willing heart. She won’t turn you away because you don’t look the part. Just show her respect, do what she asks, and you’ll be fine.”
Something in me refused to believe it would be that easy.
Hunter’s landing was smooth, his feet grazing the trampled path and his wings collapsing in at the joint. He set me down but kept his hand at my lower back while I adjusted to solid ground again. I shook out my legs and took a deep breath. Then another, which was then expelled in a sharp gasp when a green-skinned ogre stepped out in front of me.
The ogre—Bert—grunted at the sound. “What’s this? Another recruit?”
Behind beady yellow eyes, I thought I spotted signs of a sharp intelligence, weighing and assessing us. Something I never would’ve believed from an ogre. The stories from the Gauntlet painted them as huge, bloodthirsty brutes, but this ogre wasn’t much taller than me. And his violent nature was cast into serious doubt by the striped apron he wore, bearing the words, “Proud to be Green.”
He pulled out a pair of spectacles from the front pocket of his apron and placed them on the end of his squashed nose. Definitely not a mindless animal, then.
Taking a step toward me, his nose went up in the air to sniff. “Scrawny, but tough. She’s also in desperate need of a bath.” My face burned with shame. “You found ’er in the human realm.”
It wasn’t a question, but Hunter answered anyway. “I found her in the Gauntlet a few days ago. She’d been locked in a cage and left to die.”
A lump rose in my throat.
“What she do?” Bert grumbled.
“The humans suspected she was a changeling.”
Hunter sounded guttural, even savage, but whatever emotions I’d heard in his voice hadn’t reached his face. His favorite mask was still in play—mild and detached.
“Changeling, indeed,” Bert snorted. “Human stupidity never ceases to amaze me.” He stomped his feet a couple of times as if to show his anger. “Come along, youngling,” he said softly, almost affectionately. “You’ll wait in me rooms while I fetch Hildy.” He ushered me toward a one-story stone cottage built next to the outer wall. It had just two mullioned windows, an eggshell-blue door, and a chimney that puffed out green smoke. The ogre didn’t wait before loping away on his bare, stumpy feet.
Hunter’s hand moved to my elbow. From the outside, it must’ve looked like he was escorting me, but the gentleness in his touch told me it was to comfort me. While following the ogre, Hunter whispered, “Now you’ve met Bert: I’m guessing he’s different from what you were expecting?”
I flashed him a crooked smile. No, not what I’d expected at all. We arrived at the cottage to find the ogre holding the door open for us. “In yah get. Sit anywhere you’d like.”
He pointed with one of four sausage-like fingers. I walked over the threshold to find a box-like room. A chipped sink and one lone cupboard adorned the right wall, a large, cushy chair and an open fire covered the left. Two doors on the far wall, straw mats on the floor, and a circular table with two chairs set in the middle made up the rest of the room. However, it escaped the label “plain” due to several fussy decorations. Colorful throws, cheery curtains, and heaps and heaps of woolen cushions dotted the room. And given the huge needles and balls of multicolored yarn sprawled everywhere, I supposed he did his own knitting, too.
The ogre didn’t bother to say goodbye or shut the door. He clomped away with his long arms swinging by his sides. Hunter, however, did close the door and the cottage instantly warmed thanks to the green flames licking up the chimney breast. I couldn’t resist moving closer to this blaze, for hours of flight and wind burn had damn near frozen every bare inch of skin. Hunter motioned to the armchair next to me and said, “You may as well sit.”
A tempting offer. Especially given that the anxiety surging through my every vein and muscle was causing my legs to weaken beneath me. I settled into its velvety folds. “I hope Bert doesn’t notice his chair suddenly smelling,” I said, staring down at the brown woolen eyesore that was my dress.
“They’ll give you a uniform. It’s standard practice in a place like this.”
I couldn’t help replying. “If Hilda will even take me.”
Hunter didn’t respond. Great. As if I wasn’t feeling shitty enough already. As the silence stretched into minutes, my anxieties pressed down hard on my chest, suffocating me.
I cracked. “If she says no—if they all say no, can I stay with you?”
Hunter’s loamy eyes softened, and his mouth went down at the sides. That told me everything I needed to know.