Chapter 15
No one was saying it, but Felan knew this was the last midsummer that would be celebrated under his father’s rule. The swelling of the river and the spreading of winter from its banks had gone too far for it to be salvaged. It swirled and sucked at the ground in front of him as if trying to reach him. Every so often, a face or a hand would push against the surface in an effort to get free. How many souls had been condemned to spend eternity drowning, never able to break free and draw breath again? He shivered as if the chill from the river was caught in his blood.
Above him the branches glistened with frost. No leaves remained; the blight was spreading. Every day a little more ground and another tree succumbed to winter. Before he claimed the throne, Annwyn would be coated in snow—but hopefully not for long.
All he had to do was convince Jacqueline to marry him to save both worlds.
Of course, they hadn’t spoken for seven mortal years, but he’d kept watch, unable to look away from the woman who’d broken his heart. The only woman to have ever done that. He looked up at the sound of hooves. The Hunter. His father’s Hunter.
“You are looking exceptionally morose today,” Verden said as he swung off the horse.
“You too.”
“We all have reason to be grim.” He nodded at the river.
They could have spoken over dice or cards. But Felan didn’t want to be overheard and he certainly didn’t want to be seen with Verden too much—no doubt Verden felt the same way, as it might look as though his loyalty was shifting. It wasn’t, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have mutual goals.
“Tell me of Taryn’s deal with my father.”
“You could ask her yourself.”
Felan glanced at the Hunter. Something was wrong and it involved Taryn. “I’m asking you because I expect her to have told you and you will have already examined it and drawn conclusions.”
Verden looked away. “If her father agrees to his original punishment—to serve as a shadow for a year and day—he may return.”
“And Arlea?”
“Nothing specified but she isn’t exiled. I don’t think she’d be welcomed at Court.” Verden spoke carefully. Too carefully.
“And?”
There was a pause as if the Hunter were chewing over something unpalatable. “Taryn is still bound to the King and therefore beyond my reach.”
Felan nodded. “I don’t know if there is much I can do.”
“You placed her there in the first place. You brought her here to get the pardon.”
“And if I hadn’t, you would never have met her.” Felan crossed his arms and sighed. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Horse shit. You don’t want to do anything.”
“And what price are you willing to pay to have me intercede in my father’s private matters? What reason would you have me give to him when he has pursued her publicly this far?”
Verden took a few steps away and turned around. For a moment Felan saw the raw pain on the other man’s face. “It doesn’t matter; we are over.”
“So soon?”
“How can we continue when everything is set against us?”
“It won’t be forever.” That was all the comfort he could give Verden.
“I know and I’m counting on it.”
“Do you seek to change your position with me?”
Verden shook his head. “My word remains unbroken. I will not break it to suit your purpose.”
“So you have said before and yet here you are, speaking freely, keeping my secrets as I keep yours. So I ask you plainly: if we weren’t at cross-purpose, would you act on my behalf?”
Verden was silent for a moment. If he’d answered too fast, Felan would have doubted his sincerity. Here was a man weighing his future and trying to find a clear path to the one thing he wanted. Taryn. Felan wasn’t enough of a bastard to use that against him. He wanted that, that moment where nothing held value except love. “I would.”
“Very well. When the time comes, I will ask for your aid and you will provide it. In return, I will keep your loyalty in mind when reforming the Court.”
“Thank you, Prince.” Verden looked at him. “But I may not remain at Court come spring.”
“Ah.” Felan nodded. It was sometimes what wasn’t said that meant more. Verden was done with Court. The only reason he was here now was to try and keep Taryn away from Gwyn. Come spring, he was planning a life with her. Felan wanted to tell Verden the truth about his father and that it was all for show, but it didn’t matter whether it was real or not, as the result was the same. Verden couldn’t be with Taryn while the King still held her hand.
“I have business that takes me to the fringes tonight. Will you attend her?”
Felan looked at Verden. He looked worn, troubled, and heartsick—he knew because he’d looked that way seven years ago. It gave him hope. He wouldn’t make his parents’ mistake. He wanted love. He’d had it once and had walked away. This time he would fight. And win. He couldn’t fail.
“I will watch over her.” It was the best he could do.
Verden turned away, his fingers wound in the horse’s mane as if he were preparing to leave.
“If you knew who plotted against me, you’d tell me?”
The Hunter swung himself onto the horse. “If I knew, I would. I swore to Gwyn, but I intend to swear to you and no one else come spring. Claim your bride, claim the throne, and I shall be kneeling at the front.”
“One thing at a time.”
“I don’t envy you. Humans are a strange bunch.”
Felan laughed. “That they are, but I am happy with my fate. I hope yours works out the way you’ve planned.”
Verden gave a single nod and turned the horse. Felan watched him ride away. Happy wasn’t the right word. He wanted happy.
***
The horse galloped over the grass, following the river that divided Annwyn from the Elysian Fields. Occasionally, through the mist on the other side, Verden glimpsed shapes, but for the most part it was hidden. Not even fairies knew what happened on the other side. After he’d put some distance between him and the castle, he let the horse slow. He was past the hamlets that clustered near the edges and supplied the castle with clothes and shoes, and into the forest. His horse picked a path along the trails made by deer and horse. Last time he’d come this way, he’d been on foot and it had taken several days of travel.
He’d never been home since.
I didn’t have time
That was the excuse he’d told himself, but the truth was he didn’t know how to face the parents who warned him not to go, begged him not to leave. Had taken him across the veil to try and convince him that the mortal world was better than Court, but he’d gotten it into his head that he wanted to be someone of standing, not just a farmer’s son, and had gone.
The only thing in his head this morning was a dull ache that was echoed in his heart. Temporary. But what if her feelings changed? Temporary. What if his feelings changed? Temporary. He wanted to ride back to Court, kidnap her, and take her with him.
He needed the night away or he might change his mind and take her across the veil. This would be easier if he didn’t have to see her at all. Tomorrow night was the dance and they had other partners, so it would be easy to avoid her. Who was he fooling? Not himself.
She was lodged under his skin and he didn’t want to pull out the splinter no matter how much pain it caused him. It reminded him why he was doing this. As Felan had said, come spring, things will be different. All he and Taryn had to do was wait out the change in season.
And then he would have to decide if he wanted to remain at Court. He hadn’t lied; Taryn wasn’t a Court fairy, but he didn’t know if he was cut out to be a Brownie, the highest ranked fairy in the mortal world, or just a drifter, a fairy that flitted between worlds and made a real life in neither.
He was going home to see if this third option was viable, as well as to see his parents—if they still lived. A new ache formed. He shouldn’t have left it so long. What if they had died? He might be loyal to Gwyn, but he was a poor son. His father had deserved better.
Taryn was doing everything she could to save her father. Her loyalty and love for her family came first, while he’d thrown it away like a pair of old shoes. He’d sold himself to the highest bidder and not looked back. Now he’d let her go. What kind of man was he?
He had to let her go so she could get the pardon. Her family came first. While she did that, this was his chance to make amends with his family.
The doubt increased the closer he got. What if his parents weren’t there, or if they wouldn’t see him? He wanted to see them before winter. He wanted them to know he’d done well and brought honor to the family. He wanted them to know things were in flux. He wanted to know how his father had known to marry his mother. How they knew it was the right thing to do. It had been a long time since he’d done the right thing instead of the expected thing—and the two were quite often very different.
How did he tell love from the thrill of the chase and the lure of the forbidden? He’d meant it when the words had slipped past his lips. But had it been the whiskey?
The sky was deepening to purple when the forest thinned and the small farmhouses came into sight. Spread out along the hills, some were grander than others, but this was where the milk came from for the cheeses and cakes; the honey was gathered from the hives at the edges of the forest. The berries for wine would be farmed to his right, just over the rise. If he climbed the hill, he’d be high enough to see a curve in the river.
That was something most never realized. He had simply from riding and observing. Annwyn was an island. Around it was the river of damned and on the other side the Elysian Fields. Annwyn was a dot. A tiny portal through which souls passed. Without the fairies colonizing it and drawing on the power and stabilizing the river, the human population would have never expanded and progressed the way it had. Fairies had given humans the space to flourish without death bleeding through and stalking them at every turn.
For a moment longer, he watched the houses.
The horse stamped her feet beneath him, impatient for food and rest. He could do with the same. Maybe if his parents weren’t there, he’d at least be able to beg a bed and meal. He had coins with him, oak and ash, the smaller valued ones, as unscrupulous fairies didn’t always live at Court.
He urged the horse forward and went toward the small stone house that had been standing long before his parents had lived there and would no doubt be standing long after.
A man with dark blond hair, cut short and spiky, stopped his work. He leaned on a staff and watched Verden approach. Around him milled a few white cows with rust-colored tips on their ears. That had been his job once, to bring the cows in at dusk and to make sure they didn’t wander into the river.
“And who might you be?” the man said as Verden drew close.
“Verden ap Hollis.” He left off the third name he was entitled to use as part of the King’s council. Out here that wouldn’t win him any favors.
The man’s gaze skimmed over his clothing. “Bit far from Court aren’t you?”
Verden considered for a moment before answering. He was so used to revealing as little as possible that even answering straightforward questions was hard—except when he was around Taryn. If he turned around now and fled back to the castle, he’d always wonder. He didn’t want that. He needed to know. “My parents used to run this farm, I came to see how they fare. Perhaps I’m too late.”
The thought weighed heavy. He should have come home sooner, but somehow he’d become caught up in the games and had lost track of time. If Taryn had never arrived, he may never have realized how hollow his life had become.
“Ap Hollis you say? Guess that makes us brothers.”
Verden was so well trained at keeping his thoughts private that he was sure no flickers of shock crossed his face, but he felt it like a sword to the gut. Sharp and painful, and possibly fatal. He had a brother. No one had sent word.
“Brothers?”
“Aye, Beynon ap Fira.” He gave a half bow. “Did you get yourself kicked out and come back?”
Is that what everyone thought would happen? Were they waiting for him to come home with his tail between his legs like a bad puppy? Verden smiled, his teeth showing. “You’re speaking to the Lord of the Hunt.”
His brother blanched. “I meant no offense, Lord.” He bowed again, this time slowly and deliberately showing full respect.
“None taken. This time.” While this man was family, he didn’t know him and he couldn’t let it be said that he relaxed amongst the commoners. He had status to maintain. Always maintain. Always fighting to hold on and prove he was still at the top. He knew Gwyn wouldn’t cast him down so close to the end, but then it would start again with Felan. He wanted off the never-ending path that led nowhere yet promised to take you everywhere.
Beynon looked at him again; this time there was more than casual interest in his gaze. “I grew up hearing how you’d left for Court. Ma and Da never imagined you’d get that far. Lord of the Hunt. Big jump from herding cows.”
“It took time, luck, and a gamble that I was lucky paid off.”
“That’s what Court’s about isn’t it? Just a gamble based on lies.”
What could he tell his brother that would emphasize Court’s importance, yet diminish its attraction? He didn’t want his parents to lose another son to the giddy lure.
“It’s beautiful and everything you imagine. Like dancing on the blade of a sword and wondering if you’re next step will be your last, and yet you can’t stop, because if you stand still it’s certain failure.”
“Is that why you came back? We’ve seen the frost on the ground in the mornings and the choppy river that swells every day. We aren’t stupid. Winter is coming isn’t it?”
“Let’s have this conversation inside.”
After a moment, Beynon nodded. “Remember how to herd cows?”
“Yes.” He longed for the simplicity he knew he’d never find at Court. No wonder Gwyn was tired and wasn’t going to resist when Felan took over. It wasn’t just about what was best for Annwyn; it was also what was best for him. Maybe Verden needed to do the same, walk away and not look back. However, he’d been at Court for most of his life and the idea of turning his back and losing everything he’d spend so long working for rankled. That was the trap. Once in, if you threw down your hand, you lost everything. Few who came to Court left willingly.
He nudged the horse forward. In silence, the brothers herded the cows into their pen for the night. He left the horse untied, knowing that he could always call it back if it wandered and no one here would even try to touch the King’s horses.
The house was much as he remembered, stone with a thatched roof. His parents were well-off by farming standards, but he could see why the Court looked down their noses and called them peasants. There was a coarseness to the work, a rough edge that had taken many mortal years for Verden to smooth off once he’d arrived at Court. Before they got close, a man came out of the house. At first glance, he looked no older than Verden or Beynon, but his eyes gave away his age—pale with a brittle look. While his flesh hadn’t aged, his spirit had. Like all old fairies, he had taken on a look as if he only had one foot in Annwyn and the other had already crossed over. Translucence wasn’t quite the right word, as his father looked solid—and yet there seemed to be less of him.
“Well, look who’s come back before the snow arrives.” Hollis crossed his arms.
“Da, this is the Hunter.”
“I changed his swaddling long before he swapped common sense for courtly lies. Now he’s come home just before the season changes.”
Verden winced. Time hadn’t eased his father’s opinion of Court. “I’m not home to stay. I came to see how you fared.”
His father snorted. “After all this time? Why now? What trouble are you in?”
All kinds of trouble, but there was no point in giving his father flashy lies and courtly half-truths. It wasn’t what he’d come here for. “I’ve fallen in love and sometime soon I’m going to have to make a decision that will affect the rest of my life. When the King is dethroned, I will lose my place.”
For all of Felan’s assurances that he wouldn’t end up exiled or banished, he wasn’t sure he could stand being at Court, listening to the others whisper about his loss of status, a loss he could never regain. No matter what he did, Felan would never make him Hunter or even part of the Council.
“That close, eh?” Hollis looked at him. Despite his age he was still sharp.
Verden just nodded.
“Best you come in and have some of our wine and bread if you haven’t grown too fancy to eat with what’s left of your family.”
Verden’s heart stopped for a moment. “What’s left? Where’s Ma?”
Hollis put his hand on Verden’s shoulder. “She’d been wasting for a few years. One morning she didn’t wake up.”
“You should have sent word.”
“Would you have come?”
“Yes. Of course I would.” He would’ve, wouldn’t he? Dropped everything to see his mother one last time? What kind of person had he become when he couldn’t even be sure of that?
Hollis shook his head. “I didn’t want to force you home and I didn’t want your homecoming to be tinged by death.”
Yet it was. But not his mother’s. His father was wasting. Old fairies withered as if not even the power of Annwyn was enough. Did Beynon even realize?
The inside of the house was much the same as Verden remembered, cozy in a way his chambers at Court could never be. Again he felt the ring of hollowness in his bones, only this time it was louder. The time he spent in the mortal world with Taryn was precious because it was real and untarnished. That was why he felt alive in her arms. Why had he ever suggested breaking up with her? She should be with him now. Except she couldn’t be; no doubt she’d be playing cards with the King. His stomach rolled as if full of whiskey again.
Do not think about it.
Just wait.
There wasn’t long to wait; then they could be together openly.
Beynon poured wine into carved wooden goblets. Verden knew those goblets. He’d made them for his parents. Now they were smooth and stained with use, warm to touch, unlike the pretty, delicate glass he’d become accustomed to.
His father sliced bread and fresh soft cheese along with dried fruit, and they sat down to eat at the same table he’d grown up sitting at. He looked at his brother; the blond hair belonged to his mother. Beynon carried his mother’s bloodline, as was often the case in Annwyn—one child for the father, and one for the mother. Is that what he’d do?
He couldn’t imagine it. Either option seemed unpalatable—either some mortal got Taryn pregnant or he got some mortal pregnant. Either way, the baby had to be born in Annwyn—and yet at some point, Taryn or he would want a child and the decision would be made. He wanted to know how his parents had made that work. Had they loved each other enough to give them what they wanted regardless of the price?
“Love, eh? That’s a bit dangerous for a man in your position,” his father said.
You have no idea how dangerous. And it was probably best not to say.
“It’s true what they say, that no one gambles with their heart at Court?” Beynon asked.
Verden looked at his brother. When had he been born? There was so much he wanted to know, and yet so much he shouldn’t ask. He had no right after abandoning his family.
His brother leaned back. “I have no intention of going to Court. I’m going to run the farm after Da crosses the veil.”
Verden almost choked on his bread. “Cross the veil?”
“I’m no fool. I’d rather death be quick than have it take years like your poor mother.” Hollis glared at Beynon. There was a reason Beynon wasn’t going to Court. He wasn’t stupid, but he gave away too much without thinking. The Court would chew him up and spit him out once bored with him. Verden knew because he’d come very close himself.
“You plan on dying in the power shift.”
“The wasting has started. I will use the opportunity to travel the mortal world for a bit. Beynon and I have discussed it.”
Again without breathing a word to him. He wanted to argue with his father and tell him to not be in such a rush to die. And yet, his father was right; there would be a few old fairies who would seek the instant death over the prolonged wasting.
With his gazed fixed on the food in front of him, Verden spoke, his voice dark and heavy. “Then you’d best be packing and crossing the veil soon if you want a chance to see some of the world.”
“Closer than we think?”
“Much.”
Hollis nodded. “I trust your judgment. You were always sharper than your mother or I. We once joked you’d leave us for greener fields; we just never expected it to be quiet so fast. I’m glad you did well and that my name has been honored at Court.”
Verden smiled even though he felt tears forming in his eyes. He blinked to clear them away. Showing emotions like that at Court was a quick way to reveal yourself as easy prey, yet here he didn’t have to hide.
“So, is she mortal or fairy?”
“Fairy, raised in the mortal world.”
“There have been a few old faces coming back around here. Guess it would be the same at Court,” Beynon added.
“A few, more in the hamlets. People don’t want to be caught on the wrong side of the veil.” He glanced at his father.
Hollis looked him in the eye but said nothing about his already made decision. “What will you do after?”
“I don’t know.”
There was no invitation to return to the farm. Hollis and Beynon had that sorted. He wasn’t needed here and he had no place at Court under Felan’s rule. Maybe he was bound for the mortal world. What place would he have there?
“You know, Son, after the change, the humans will need help to rebuild. They always do after so much death. Your grandfather, Lorcyn, helped after Gwyn took the throne, traveled through most of Europe and always had a story to tell.”
“It’s not the same now.” Taryn had been telling him about social security and passports. Travel wasn’t simple, and magic and glamours couldn’t fool science all the time.
“Well if your ladylove intends on living in the mortal world, you’re either going to have to live without her or follow. I know which one I’d choose.”
Verden already knew he couldn’t live without Taryn. But he knew nothing of life across the veil. Court hadn’t prepared him for anything other than gambling and dancing.
Lord of the Hunt
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