Lord of the Hunt

Chapter 4




Taryn looked at the dresses she had, trying to work out what to wear for dinner. Dinner with the King. Well, at his table anyway. It would be too public to ask for her father’s pardon. Which was probably a good thing because she might be tempted, even though Verden had advised her to move softly. Softly. As in don’t make waves. She scowled at her dresses, still no closer to picking one. Verden would be at the table too—the half-hidden heat in his eyes and the curve of his lips. She’d never kissed a fairy before. And she wouldn’t be kissing anyone tonight. She had to think of the pardon and ways to get it. Maybe Verden was right. She had to learn the ways of the Court before putting her hand out and asking for something. Plus there would be a price. But she’d give anything to save her parents.

She tried not to feel the pressure crushing her, or the tightness of her chest. She couldn’t let panic or fear get control; otherwise, she’d fail. She had to learn, adapt, and win. She grabbed the blue dress off the gently sweeping branch that was acting as a clothes rail. Getting used to being surrounded by a living castle was still taking time—as was seeing the shadow servants.

Was being a shadow better than being exiled or banished?

She didn’t know, but they gave her the creeps and made her think the castle was haunted. Faceless ghosts at her beck and call. She shuddered.

Taryn changed her clothes, redid her hair, and hoped she looked okay. No. She had to look better than okay, since everybody would be wondering why she was getting to sit up there with the King…and the Queen—hopefully as far from the Queen as possible—and Verden. She couldn’t stop the smile from forming.

So far he was being very nice. So what did he want in exchange? She looked at herself in the mirror. The dark blue dress contrasted with her orange eyes, a color she’d always had to glamour to brown in the mortal world to hide what she was, and exposed just a little more skin than she would usually. Too much leg? Or maybe it was the cutaway at the side. With the silvery stars on the bodice, drifting down the front to dance across the hem, there were perhaps too many things going on at once. But then she was used to human fashion, not fairy, and fairies seemed to have an odd mix of ye olde clothes with too much color and flesh on show.

Maybe she should have worn the yellow dress instead. It was more eye-catching. And more revealing. Just whose eye was she trying to catch?

Verden appeared in her mind, his gray eyes and almost-hidden smile. If he’d been mortal, things would have been simpler, although it had been nice for a man to look at her and see the real her and not a glamour. She was so used to hiding what she was that being seen was unnerving. What if the real her wasn’t good enough? With a final smoothing of her dress, she stepped away from the mirror. She wasn’t here to fall into bed with a fairy Lord; she was here to secure her parents’ return and then leave after the power shift.

“Do not get sucked in, by anything or anyone.” Her reflection nodded along with her. For the first time in her life, she was glad she wasn’t human and couldn’t be tricked by fairy magic.

Here, she was normal.

With that thought in mind, she slipped past the heavy brocade curtain that passed for a door and made her way to the Hall of Flowers. Even though she’d already seen it, it was hard not to glance up in wonder. Hanging from the branches were vines of flowers in every color. They glittered as if dew were catching in the sunlight, and filled the air with a heady perfume. It was like an eternal summer. Except when she looked closely, she saw the signs of the decaying rule. There were no new buds, flowers were curling up, petals were wilting and dropping, and the leaves that formed the roof were turning red and gold.

She’d heard from her parents that the King’s rule was ending but seeing it was a different thing. For a moment she doubted her plan; she didn’t have time to play it safe—or move softly. Annwyn was failing around her and no one seemed to be noticing.

Beside her, a couple Ladies whispered and laughed. Taryn realized she was gawking like the poor country cousin. That was exactly what she was to them. The unfortunate thing who’d been forced to grow up in the mortal world. She gave the women her most deadly glare—which had been well practiced at school—and swept past like she at least belonged here.

She could act like she belonged here, act like everyone else, blend in. She was used to that game and had been playing it since kindergarten. A shadow met her at the entrance and led her through the maze of tables—some round, some long trestles, and others made for two—toward the center of the hall. Her smile became more forced and her heartbeat less than steady. She wanted to wipe her palms on her dress but couldn’t because people were watching her walk toward the King’s table.

Her stomach tightened. How was she going to eat dinner with so much scrutiny?


Verden glanced at her over the rim of his cup, but there was no warmth in his expression; it was as if he didn’t know her and they’d never spoken. She ignored the stab of hurt as he dismissed her as beneath his notice. What had she been thinking? That they could be friends and allies?

The Queen looked up from her conversation with the man next to her, her eyes dark but no longer empty. Taryn swallowed. She gave the table a curtsy, then waited next to the shadow servant.

“So glad you could join us.” The Prince gestured to an empty seat between himself and his father.

Was she late? There was no food on the table and several seats were empty. She kept her smile fixed.

“I’m very flattered to be invited.” Really, you shouldn’t have. No really, she’d much rather be sitting at a table somewhere near the edge, not the center of attention at the raised table. She felt as though she should turn around and wave, and ask if people would like a closer look at the strange fairy from the mortal world. But getting through dinner would help her with the King—if she didn’t screw it up.

She lifted the edge of her dress, stepped onto the platform, and sat down as gracefully as she could, the whole time trying to ignore the murmurs around the room. Heat burned her cheeks because she knew they were all looking at her again and wondering why she got the privilege of sitting with the King. Was it a one-off thing because she was new and had novelty value, or was it something else? She’d stepped into a game already in progress and wasn’t sure of the rules in place.

The King leaned back in his chair and looked at her. His lips moved in the barest of smiles yet suddenly she felt like the dinner. “We were just discussing how to celebrate midsummer this year. Perhaps you could share how mortals celebrate on the other side of the veil.”

Did humans celebrate midsummer anymore?

Was there even a right answer?

Could she phone a friend? Her human friends had thought she’d gone on vacation to some remote destination without email. There was nowhere more remote than Annwyn. Email? Jeez, they didn’t even have phones.

“Certainly…er…” She glanced across the table and made the mistake of looking directly at Verden. While all fairies were beautiful, he was different. He’d gotten changed for dinner, yet his clothes still weren’t as flashy as anyone else’s at the table. The green of his waistcoat seemed to shift as he moved, the ties on his shirt cuffs were still undone, and yet there was a restrained power about him that she would have noticed regardless of what he was wearing. He didn’t need fancy clothes to attract attention. He blinked, breaking the moment, and she remembered to breathe.

“Midsummer isn’t really celebrated.” She glanced around and saw that wasn’t the answer they were looking for. “However, because it falls during school break, there are lots of beach parties.”

“Beach parties.” Felan gave a small nod like he knew exactly what she was talking about. Aside from Felan, the other fairies were looking rather blank. She raised an eyebrow. Wow, they really needed to get out more.

“Sand, surf, bonfires. Or music festivals. Last year there was a beer festival.”

“So what are you suggesting? We cavort like drunken humans on a pile of sand?” The Queen laughed as if it was the most ludicrous idea she’d ever heard; a few others joined her.

The Queen was a bitch, like those popular girls at high school who picked on others and thought it was fun. Verden’s warning about staying away wouldn’t be hard to follow.

Verden placed his cup down and leaned forward a fraction, drawing the Queen’s attention away from Taryn. “Don’t we usually drink and cavort at midsummer anyway?”

“That is the point of the party,” the King agreed.

The Queen gave Verden and the King a glare that would have frozen water. “I have always preferred Lughnasa.”

“That’s because it’s battle and blood.” Felan signaled to a shadow servant and food was placed on the table. “Thank you for sharing your knowledge with us, but I’m sure my mother will do what she wants anyway when it comes to choosing this year’s theme.”

Taryn tilted her head but kept her mouth shut. The less she said the better, as whatever she said was sure to be used against her later. With her eyes on her wooden plate, she ate as delicately as she could manage and sipped at what was in her cup. It was nonalcoholic and all she really wanted was a glass of wine or a beer—anything to take the edge off would have been nice. If she’d been human, one sip or one bite of the food would’ve been enough to bind her to Annwyn.

Conversation ebbed around her and no one seemed to mind that she was quiet. When she lifted her gaze, she was being watched. From across the table, Verden’s gaze met hers. He didn’t say anything and he didn’t smile, but for a moment she thought she saw a shimmer of heat in his eyes. Then he carried on his discussion as if she weren’t there. So much for even having one friend at Court. Had she imagined the attraction and his attention?

No, he had definitely been interested. Or he’d been faking the whole time and was now laughing on the inside at her expense.

Which one was the real Verden? The one who’d taken the time to talk to her or this one whose face was a mask and who easily ate and drank with Lords and Ladies that outranked her parents?

The King leaned toward her and rested his elbow on the table. “How is your mother?”

Was it too soon to ask him? Probably. Maybe this was the test to see how pushy she was. Verden had warned her to be subtle and so had her mother. That advice she had to trust. It would be better to touch the edges than ask and be shot down. And if she never got another chance to sit with the King? She’d have to make one. She had to make sure she got invited back to his table. She angled her body slightly, as if she had no interest in anyone but the King. If Verden could ignore her, she could ignore him just as well. “Well, sire.”

His gaze cut through her as he watched her more closely than required. In his light blue eyes, she saw the bleakest winter. His age was showing for anyone who dared to look. She wanted to back away before she got caught in the storm, but she couldn’t. She’d have to plunge in and survive to get what her parents needed.

The King tilted his head a fraction. “She doesn’t mind living in the mortal world?”

What answer did he want? Or was he just seeking any information? Of course her mother would rather be here—though Taryn had yet to figure out the attraction of Court—but would telling the King how her mother and father longed to come home help their cause? Besides, it was her mother’s choice to live in the human world. It was her father who was truly stuck. “She has my father to keep her company.”

“You mean your father has her to keep him company.” He tapped the table as if he were annoyed with her answer. “She followed him into exile, yet here you are fairy, not changeling.”

He knew her lineage. Fairies took the name of the fairy parent, as it made it easy to keep track of family trees. She didn’t know who her human sire had been and it didn’t matter.

Taryn lifted her chin and met his icy gaze. “As you said, she isn’t in exile, so she came back to Annwyn to give birth.”

His lips twitched. “Your mother was always a smart woman. Smart enough to be on my Council once. Do you take after her?”


Taryn tried to hide her surprise as quickly as possible. Her mother had been on the Council? Yet she’d still chosen to leave with Taryn’s father over her service to the King. No wonder getting a pardon for her father had been a long time coming. Her heart sank as Taryn realized just what she had to achieve. Her mother had wounded the King’s pride. How was she ever going to convince him that her father should be allowed to return?

“People say I look like her.” Maybe if the King still held a candle for her mother, it would be enough to eventually return both her parents to Court.

“You do. It’s the eyes I think.” He looked at her for longer than was really necessary. “Any more siblings I should know about?”

“No, sire. Raising a fairy child in the mortal world is hard work apparently. Though I know my mother would like another when they are allowed to return.” She held her breath, wondering if she’d pressed too far.

“Your mother is always welcome in Annwyn.” The King lifted her hand and kissed it.

Taryn resisted the urge to pull away; instead, she kept her attention on the King, her heart beating fast out of fear not desire. Just how far would she play this game to get the pardon? She was vaguely aware of other people at the table watching. What were they thinking?

She swallowed. She had to make it clear that without her husband, Arlea would never return. If the King didn’t grant the pardon, she’d lose both her parents. “She would never leave her heart behind.”

For a moment neither of them moved. Then the King laughed and released her hand. “You are more like her than you know.”

Was that a good thing? She was beginning to wonder just what her mother had done to get on the Council. She knew fairies traded sex for favors, but hearing about it and being caught in it were two different things. Maybe she was too human to play fairy games.

The Queen stood and clapped her hands. “I grow tired of talking. A dance!”

Obediently, several of the diners at the table got up. Verden remained seated, his gaze carefully on the people attending the dinner. Everyone except her. She might as well have been invisible.

“Cards.” The King held out his hand and a shadow placed a deck there.

Dinner was removed so the table was clear for gaming. Then the King looked at her. “Do you know how to play any Court games?”

Taryn shook her head. She wasn’t ready to play any kind of game with the King. She could almost feel the water getting deeper and the currents stronger, ready to drag her under.

“Sit with me and learn. Verden.” The King beckoned him closer.

Verden stood and walked over, cup in hand, then sat in the vacated seat. “What do we play?”

“Omission, to teach the Lady.”

“Ah.” Verden directly acknowledged her as if he’d been granted permission for the first time that night. “I’m so glad you were able to join us for dinner.” His smile lost its impersonal edge for a moment, but it was back so fast she couldn’t be sure if it was imagined or real.

“A pleasure.” Her cheeks heated like she’d never had a man look at her and smile. Her gaze slid over Verden’s shoulders to his hands. Elegant but unadorned by rings. He didn’t need jewels to draw attention.

The King was talking, something about the rules of the game. His hand touched hers for a second, but it was a second too long while Verden was watching. He hadn’t missed the gesture. She nodded along as if understanding, then watched as the cards were dealt and the game began. It was too quick for her to follow and Verden lost.

“Will you give me a chance to regain my honor in front of the Lady?” Verden smiled, but it wasn’t the one she’d seen in the garden. This one was purely for show. How much of how he behaved was for the benefit of others? Had his conversation with her been an act to lure her in? Or had that been the truth, and this was the lie? She glanced across the floor to where people were either dancing or dining in organized chaos. Who would she be able to trust if everyone was playing along and seeking only to increase their standing?

“Best of three.”

Again the King dealt, and he and Verden played the hand. This time she watched more closely, trying to work out how they were playing and what the animal and season cards meant. It wasn’t just new games, it was a different set of cards. Yet she’d have to learn some of the games just to get by and look the part. She glanced at the King. She needed to learn to be able to play with him.

Laughter from the dance floor distracted her. The Queen was the center of attention, Ladies and Lords spinning around her in a dance that seemed to trap her every time she pretended to get free.

“She’s beautiful isn’t she?” The King’s breath brushed her ear and the hair on her arms prickled to attention.

“She is.” She looked like Snow White with her dark hair and dark eyes; it was no wonder Gwyn had married her.

“Don’t let her looks deceive you. She is cruel and bitter and you would do well to avoid the web she weaves.” He slapped the table, returning attention to the game.

Right, less Snow White more evil Queen. Taryn considered that would be her one and only warning. If she fell into the Queen’s circle, that would be the end of her privilege.

The dance ended and the Queen glided over, her cheeks pink from dancing, her eyes bright, and yet there was no joy in her features. “Come, husband, dance with me.” The Queen held out her hand.

The King paused a moment before getting up. There was still another hand of the card game to go. Would he ignore his wife when so many watched? Everyone seemed to pause to see what would happen. Then he took his wife’s hand, leaving Taryn and Verden at the table alone. They glanced at each other, and Taryn was aware of how many people surrounded them, pretending not to look to see what would happen next. She wasn’t used to living so publicly. Reality TV had nothing on this.

She needed to say something to him. She wanted him to speak to her. “So…is it like this every evening?”

Verden took a sip of his drink and gathered up the deck of cards. “This is the first time in about ten days that both the King and Queen have attended dinner.” He handed her the cards. “There are five suits. Four seasons plus animals. Then there are the majors, which include the eight festivals, like midsummer.”

She fanned the cards over the table and looked at them; each one was a beautiful picture more like tarot than playing cards, but she wasn’t interested in the cards right now. She glanced up at him, but he was looking at the cards.

“Why are you talking to me now when you ignored me before?” She kept her voice soft, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer but figuring it was safer to know.

“Dinner is not the time or place for private discussions. It’s for watching and building alliances. You needed to build one with the King. If you had been speaking with me, what do you think would have happened?” The whole time he spoke, he was pointing to different cards. To anyone watching, it was as if he were explaining the important aspects of each suit.

She nodded. “Okay. I thought it was because…” Because you weren’t interested is what she wanted to say, but she went with a safer option. “I have no status.”

“I have enough of my own not to worry about that.” He looked across the floor. “We have sat for long enough. Let me have the first dance, as I’m sure it will be the only one I get with you tonight.” He picked up the cards and placed them in his waistcoat; then he stood and offered her his hand.


“You don’t leave me any choice.” Yet dancing with Verden would be no hardship, except they would be watched. Were they watching her or him? She was sure he was only doing what was expected. Was she a chore or a pleasure? It was hard to tell when his expression rarely slipped.

She took his hand and let herself be led to the area used for dancing. Fortunately he didn’t drag her into the middle where the King and Queen were doing something that was stiffly formal, and even though they were both smiling, neither seemed to be enjoying it. Even from here, she could feel the tension between them. They hated each other and any goodwill was for show. How had everything gone so wrong?

“Just follow. The steps aren’t that hard,” Verden said as he lifted her hand and placed his other one behind his back. He waited for her to copy.

She looked at the other dancers and realized they were doing the same steps as the King and Queen, but not at the same time. People were at different stages of the same sequence, making it appear like madness at first, but it was really just a repeating pattern. She began to see and feel it in her body. Her palm heated in Verden’s hand.

“You feel it?” He stepped closer.

“Yes.” She did; the magic of the music was in her blood. When she looked at him, he was gazing down at her, heat flickering in his eyes. Right now she didn’t care if she got singed.

As he’d said, the steps weren’t hard. She copied his movements and followed, letting the music flow through her. Different to the mortal music she was used to, this was ancient and powerful. It wasn’t just her pulse she felt increasing; it was Verden’s, as if for the duration of the dance the magic was bringing them closer. They stopped with the music, toe to toe, her body only millimeters from his. One deep breath and her breasts would brush his chest. Her skin tingled. For a moment neither of them moved. He was looking at her with a look in his eyes that could only be called wild and untamed.

She risked that breath; their bodies touched for a moment, long enough to send desire spiraling through her blood. It was closely followed by the hard edge of reason and the sharper blade of danger. She knew why Verden kept his distance when people were watching. It was information that could be used against her…and him.

Verden closed his eyes for a second and stepped back. When he opened his eyes, the cool indifference was back. She knew she couldn’t raise a mask that quickly and wasn’t sure that was a skill she wanted, even though it was one she’d need.

“It’s been a pleasure.” He gave a slight bow. “Should you wish to…escape…for a little while tonight, my offer still stands.” He added in a much lower voice. “I can help you if you trust me.”

Then he released her hand and walked away. She wasn’t na?ve enough to think that if they left together it wouldn’t be noticed or spoken about. She glanced at the King and Queen, now dancing with other people. But the music no longer seemed so potent. It didn’t make her want to dance the way it had when Verden had held her hand. She glanced around to try and catch sight of Verden, but he’d vanished.

Others offered their hand and tried to get her to dance, but she shook her head and moved away from the dance floor. There was no way she was going to get dragged into that pit of trouble without a guide; there would be etiquette and unspoken rules that she could only guess at. That and it wasn’t really her kind of music. She much preferred human rock music. Concerts were the best, standing right at the front with everyone, stamping and singing. She missed her life, even though she’d only been pretending to be human. Here, she was pretending to be fairy, and they were all waiting for her to fall over so they could laugh.

“Taryn.” A hand landed on her arm.

Taryn glanced up from the long nails delicately tipped with blue gems and into eyes that were almost white except for the palest tint of pink. The woman had white-blond hair elaborately pinned and braided. Here she was probably considered beautiful—to Taryn she looked freaky, like Halloween meets prom night.

“Can I help you?”

“I knew your mother when she sat at the table.” The woman smiled but didn’t ease her grip.

So did half the Court probably.

“Let us walk and talk,” said the ice blond.

Well, that would be lovely except this woman could be anyone and just being seen with her could ruin the small chance Taryn had of getting her parents home. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure we’ve met. You are?”

The woman laughed. “Did you not see me with the Queen? I am one of her Ladies.”

There were a lot of Ladies around the Queen, and a lot of men—but just because they fawned for attention didn’t mean they liked her or supported her. It could just mean that the Queen had something on them or they wanted a favor only she could grant. Where did the freaky blond fit?

“You need to be seen with me by the Queen or she might think you are interested in her husband and that will not go well for you. At least appear to be aligning yourself with anyone with power. If the King chooses to shower you with attention, then it will at least look like you weren’t seeking it.” The woman began walking, her arm looped through Taryn’s so Taryn had no choice but to follow unless she wanted to make scene. She should have left the Hall of Flowers with Verden. That gossip she could live with.

However, the woman might have a point. She couldn’t afford to piss off the Queen.

“How is your mother?”

“She is well.” As she can be given the situation.

“And your father?” The woman nodded and smiled at a few people as she walked past.

Taryn bit her lip. Her father wanted her mother to return and not risk being caught on the wrong side of the veil, but she wasn’t going to reveal anything of importance to this woman. “My father wishes the best for my mother.”

“She was always stubborn. How stubborn are you, Taryn? I know why you are here, and I know who invited you. What I don’t know is what you are going to do or how far you are willing to go to see your parents reinstated—or at least returned.” The woman stopped and faced her. “Do you have even half your mother’s courage and brains?”

Taryn met the woman’s pale stare even though it chilled her to the core. Fairies could be creepy without even trying hard. “Will half be enough?”

The woman laughed as if Taryn had shared the funniest joke. Others looked over and noticed the exchange. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

“Come find me tomorrow, and I shall help you with your wardrobe. I owe your mother a favor, and I shall consider it paid if I make you more presentable.”

“And who shall I ask for?”

“Sulia. I hope your mother mentioned me.”

Was that an invitation to pry? What choice did she have? She needed to know whose side Sulia was on and if she could trust her. So she lied. “She did. Have things changed since you last saw her?”

Sulia shook her head. “Too bold, child. It is enough to know I don’t wish you or your family ill. Others do. Be warned.” Then Sulia was moving on, leaving Taryn standing there.

That went okay—maybe.

It could have been a whole lot worse.

Sulia was going to help with dresses and such, and she owed her mother. Or Sulia was lying and just taking the opportunity to meddle. Yeah, that was far more likely. Fairies didn’t have friends. They had a web of promises, lies, and lovers. Where did Verden fit?


One of his white dogs sat in an archway, waiting for her to follow. Or at least she hoped that’s what it was doing.

She glanced at the hall filled with beautiful fairies, a rainbow of colors dancing and drinking even as flower petals drifted to the floor. Soon there would be no flowers decorating Annwyn. Her parents didn’t have forever to waste like these fairies had. She had to act, and at the moment, that meant seeing Verden, accepting his offer of help, and crossing the veil.