Lord of the Hunt

Chapter 11




Finding Gwyn wasn’t difficult. He was spending more and more time in the Hall of Judgment, settling the more frequent disputes between fairies and the dealing with the influx of mortals’ souls. When he saw Verden, he signaled him over.

While it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, the King needed to be aware of the worsening situation—while Verden had promised not to mention the meeting with Felan and what was said, he hadn’t promised not to do his job.

Gwyn raised his hand before Verden could speak. “I know. I know what you have come to tell me.”

“It is my duty to report on the dire situation I’m finding across the veil.”

“Thank you for your loyalty. There are so few I can rely on.” Gwyn appeared calm, almost resigned to the fact that winter was going to smother Annwyn.

Annoyance bubbled in Verden’s blood like human soft drink but far more bitter. “Is there nothing you can do to fix the rift between you and Eyra?”

“It has gone too far. Shea’s death has sealed the fate of Annwyn and set her mood to violence.”

For a moment, Verden didn’t know what to say. Did Gwyn have any idea how bad it was beyond the castle? “There is frost on the trees by the river.”

“There is nothing I can do. It all rests with Felan.”

That was a lie. Gwyn could be doing more to slow the spread. Instead, he taunted the Queen.

“How does playing games with Taryn help?” She was his, not the King’s.

Gwyn stood, his pale eyes like chips of blue ice. Winter had already filled the old King. “You forget yourself, Hunter.”

Verden bowed low. He didn’t want to be exiled and face death when the power of the Court shifted from father to son. “Of course you may pursue whoever takes your fancy.” He kept his eyes on the floor, knowing that if he looked up, the man he’d once called a friend would see the deception on his face.

“Tell my son to hurry up and get his act together next time you roll dice with him.” That was as close as the King was ever going to come to admitting it was over and that he would step aside without battle.

While it was the best possible outcome, that he was even thinking it a good thing and feeling relieved was treason. What could Verden say? Nothing. So he stayed silent.

“While you are still my Hunter, I have one other request. Arrange a hunt. I want to ride my kingdom again.” Both men knew it was possibly for the last time. Did Felan even realize how close his coronation was? The Prince needed to find a wife more quickly.

“It would be my pleasure.” It had been too long between hunts. Maybe he’d get the chance to spend some time with Taryn. Verden bowed again, this time to hide the telltale curves of a smile that wanted to form at the corners of his lips. The King was right; he couldn’t trust anyone at the moment. Not even his Hunter.

***

It was with great relief Taryn escaped dinner and made it to her room. She let the curtain across the doorway fall, an illusion of privacy, but all she was entitled to at her current status. It meant she couldn’t have any truly private conversations or liaisons. Clever. Also frustrating.

She flopped onto the bed, her forearm draped over her closed eyes as if she could block out everything. She might just hide here until the hunt tomorrow. It was another chance to see Verden in public, another chance to screw up—and so many people were watching. She was sure Sulia knew something. Felan knew everything. Too many people knew. It was no longer a secret, which meant someone would reveal it when it suited them. The goblet of nonalcoholic fairy wine she’d drunk on her way up the stairs sloshed in her stomach. She really needed a proper drink, a glass of real wine. Next time she was in the mortal world…would there be a next time?


Or would Felan be watching and waiting?

She opened her eyes, and her gaze landed on a cloth wrapped package that was on her small table. That hadn’t been there before dinner. When had the parcel arrived?

More importantly, who was it from?

She sat up and leaned over to pick up the parcel. The fabric was soft and silky; the parcel was squishy. She couldn’t afford more gifts from Sulia and wasn’t sure she wanted to get much closer to that woman. Sulia was more dangerous than she looked. However, Sulia had never wrapped anything. It had been more of a command that she’d take the gift and enjoy it.

Verden?

She took a deep breath before undoing the silvery ribbon. Her heart gave a flip-flop that made her stomach tremble. It didn’t feel like something he’d give her. The wrapping was too flash, too glittery. A dress and necklace tumbled out of the parcel and onto the bed. Deep red cloth trimmed in silver, and a jewel the color of blood and the size of her eye.

A note drifted on top of the pile.

Verden couldn’t write. Few fairies could, which limited who the gift could have come from. She picked up the note.

A gift for the hunt tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you wear it.

No name, but whoever wrote it knew she could read, and it was written in English, with a steady hand—an educated script that looked like something that had been commonplace a hundred years ago. Someone at Court knew more about the mortal world than they were letting on. The King?

She touched the fabric; it had the feel of velvet but was much lighter. It felt expensive.

Maybe, but she doubted he’d learned to read or write after coming to power. Felan? But why would he leave her a gift? They were already allies—or were they? She’d believed what he’d said, taken his words as truth without looking deeper. Had he mislead her for his own purpose? Was he making a point after seeing her with Verden? She scrunched up the note. In leaving Annwyn with Verden, she’d gone against Felan’s orders. And yet he’d done nothing. Said nothing and he could have. He could have told his father.

She looked at the dress. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d written the note for his father.

Maybe.

Although Felan had nothing to gain by telling the King. He wanted her father back at Annwyn; helping her was the only way to achieve that. She drew in a breath. She didn’t have many options.

If she didn’t wear it, she’d be insulting whoever had left if for her, and if she wore it without knowing who’d left the gift, she could be getting herself into more trouble. She was almost hoping the King had given her the dress and jewel; that would be the simplest answer, even if she didn’t like the unspoken question.

If he was giving her a dress, was he expecting to help her out of it later?