“I won’t abandon you—friend,” was his only response.
A tiny smile touched his lips, and the weight in my chest lightened. I opened my mouth—to say what, I had no idea. And I never found out, because Bert chose that moment to reappear. This time in the company of a formidable-looking female. Her height meant she had to duck as she walked in, and her broad shoulders and tawny wings seemed to fill the room. She looked the part of a true warrior, even though she carried no visible weapons.
I vaulted out of the chair and wavered, nervously waiting.
“Hunter.” It was a short acknowledgement with little feeling. “This is the recruit?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she was barking at me in a gravelly voice. “Name?”
Not intimidating at all, I thought wryly. “Serena … Serena Smith.”
“Mm.” She frowned at me. My instincts told me to keep silent and still.
“Bert told me your people threw you in a cage?” she rasped as her wings twitched.
“Yes, they did,” I said immediately. This fae didn’t seem all that patient.
“You had no family to speak up for you?”
Her blue-eyed stare was piercing, and it seemed to bore right through me. Was this an interrogation?
“No. My parents are dead. And my friends … couldn’t help.”
“Do you want to be here?”
Something about the hard line of her mouth made me pause and turn to Hunter. But that was the wrong thing to do, as she suddenly snapped, “Let me clear, I’ve no interest in breaking in another unwilling human. We’re not training horses here, you know?” Hilda directed her ire solely at Hunter, who refused to meet her ominous glare. “I take the slaves you bring because I need to fill my quota, but I’ve done that. I’ve no interest in filling the Wild Hunt’s pockets any more than needs be.”
Well, that was unexpected. I waited for Hunter to say something, only he didn’t. Bert was frowning, and Hilda seemed a second away from marching out. I could say nothing, but if their dislike of slavery was anything to go by, this definitely seemed like the best place for me.
“Hunter gave me a choice; I’m here of my own free will now.”
Hilda’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. She turned to Hunter, her eyes narrowing. “Is this true?”
A muscle feathered in his cheek, but he met her gaze again and nodded.
Bert cackled beside Hilda. “I’m guessing Kesha doesn’t know that. Where is she, anyway?”
I saw a pulse go in Hunter’s jaw. “The Winged Fiends attacked us on the road. We split up after that. She’s taking a witch we brought over to the Crescent.”
“Very well.” Hilda scowled and turned to me again. “Why d’you want to be here then?” she demanded.
The answer rolled off my tongue. Better to be honest. “Hunter said you don’t discriminate against humans.”
“Did he now?” Hilda frowned.
Oh, gods. Had he got it wrong?
“Well, I suppose you’d both better follow me.”
Hilda didn’t wait. She strode out the door. Hunter went after her, but I hung back a little.
“Don’t let ’er intimidate you.” Bert pulled out a pipe from his apron pocket and bit the end. “Still, it’s probably best not to keep her waiting, either,” he suggested with a wave of his hand.
That got me moving. Lingering just a moment more to thank him, I went to leave. I spotted Hunter and wheeled right, hurrying down the beaten track. There didn’t seem many humans or fae around, apart from the odd guard walking or flying along the wall. A stroke of luck; I’d no desire to be the object of people’s curiosity.
I caught up with Hunter, but Hilda had stridden ahead, somehow managing to put a distance between them. The path had too many bends and odd clumps of trees to see the intended destination. “D’you know where we’re going?” I asked Hunter.
“The training pit. It’s where she takes all new recruits. Sometimes she’ll shove a sword in their hand or make them use a bow. Other times it’s laps.”
My gut did a sickening twisting motion. “I haven’t touched a sword in years.” Father had never liked me touching the weapons in his forge. Then, Gus had come along and I’d barely set foot in there. “And I’m not brilliant with a bow.”
“There’s no need to panic. She just wants a baseline of your physical abilities.”
He nudged me with his elbow and tried to get a smile out of me. But one glance down at my spindly arms made my confidence plummet even further.
The path straightened and opened out to the arena. Hilda went left here, and followed the fencing that encircled a giant sandpit. She spun and waved us over. Not a patient woman, at all.
We sped up. As we approached, she told me, “I’m going to the armory. I want to see you with a sword in hand. In the meantime, you’re to run laps around the training field. Every time you complete one, do ten lunges on each leg. Keep going until I say otherwise.” She finished by slapping a heavy hand on the fencing.
A large village—my village—could’ve fit inside the training ring’s boundaries. My lower lip almost trembled and my leg muscles locked up. What if she refused to stop me? Would I have to keep running laps until I collapsed? Was this Hilda’s way of showing me that I didn’t deserve to stay?
“Well, get on with it,” Hilda barked.
I tore off my mismatched mittens and scarf, tossed them at Hunter, and moved.
I veered left and ran clockwise, sticking close to the fence and pacing myself. Hilda was already ahead of me, disappearing into a stone building. The weapon racks along the wall confirmed my suspicions. It was the armory. As a blacksmith’s daughter, I could identify a few of the weapon types on display: broadswords, longbows, falchions, crossbows, and winged spears. Others, however, were so foreign and beyond what my father could’ve created, they blew me away. I suddenly felt that loss again like a punch to the gut; my father would’ve been brimming over with excitement to see such an arsenal.
I followed the curve of the ring, leaving the building behind, and focusing on the task. My vision blurred and my body slipped into a familiar and comforting rhythm. I wasn’t a stranger to this: I’d often gone running along the forest tracks in my village. Something about the relentless grind and meditative state had always helped wring Elain’s poisonous words from my mind.
My feet pounded the sandy grass, and with each movement there was an accompanying inhale and exhale. Just breathe.
Coming upon the end of the lap, I noticed Hunter had moved. He was now standing outside the armory with Hilda and a male fae who had dull-blue wings and nut-brown, leathery skin. I dropped into the lunge position, keeping a count in my head while seizing the moment to stare at them. Thankfully, they weren’t watching me. Hilda and Hunter talked between themselves, while the strange male sat on a stool beside the racks, polishing a sword. I was ogling him now. I’d heard about the fae’s supposed immortality from songs and tales growing up, but I’d never thought to see an old one. Yet, with those slow, careful movements, the male moved and looked like the elderly in my village. He must be ancient. Upon finishing the lunges, I set off again.
Seven laps later, I was suffering. My leg muscles burned, and shooting pains racked the length of my spine, but I kept going. Two more sets of lunges and circuits dried up any hope of getting through this test. Every damned inch of me was slick with stinking sweat underneath my dress, and I thought I might pass out from the smell alone.
After crawling to the end of my tenth lap, Hilda called out, “Recruit! Cease action.”
My chest shuddered with exhaustion and relief.
“Come join us.”
I walked over. Hunter wore a sneaky smile, but Hilda tapped her foot and crossed her arms. Yet, the gods themselves couldn’t have convinced me to run. Knees trembling, thighs cramping, I came to rest in front of them.