Hunter: Faction 10: The Isa Fae Collection

by Angela Fristoe

  It was a conviction that carried him through the night and in to the morning as he poured over the evidence he'd gathered so far. He had no doubt the faction would believe the accusations he'd lay out against The Council, but Garrett also knew that what he lacked would be enough that they would argue the actions of a few members shouldn’t mar the entire Council.

  He was no longer willing to take that risk. He needed to close the gaps in his evidence, but, by morning, he was no closer than he had been two weeks ago, or even two months ago.

  As the sun rose, he gathered his papers and waited on Marcella. She arrived with her caravan of carriages much later than the first light he'd told her, and each minute that ticked by only darkened his mood.

  “You appear to be suffering from some illness,” Marcella said, shifting across the bench to make room for him.

  “I was up most of the night going through the accounts,” he answered.

  “Yet, you made time to go hunting.”

  “You heard about that,” he said.

  “The creation of a breed soul star is a rare event. It’s a small wonder that I only heard the gossip of your presence this morning rather than last night.”

  “She had already passed by the time I found her.”

  “It’s a loss that should never have happened,” she said, and pressed her hand to her chest then lifted it toward the sky in prayer.

  “It will be one of the last,” he replied.

  “Well, you weren’t the only one doing some hunting and gathering.” She held out a slim folder.

  Garrett took the folder, opening it to find an image of Anton Galani staring back at him. Except, the image was from nearly ten years ago, and he was sitting in the front row at a Grand Coven meeting.

  Anton was a witch.

  “How does a witch become a guest at The Sanctuary?” he asked.

  “It appears he received a special clearance, though I was unable to determine who authorized it,” she said. “It also doesn’t explain why The Council had no record of it.”

  He spent the first hour of the ride discussing with Marcella the possible reasons for Anton to be at The Sanctuary. The talk went in circles as it always led back to who gave him the clearance. Anton wasn’t the first witch to visit the breed home, but those witches were family members, and their movements were severely restricted.

  Eventually, they came to the conclusion that they had no clear answer, and they lapsed into silence. Marcella read through the depository reports, while he went back to studying the account numbers, still looking for any numbers that would match up to show transfers of atern in exchange for breeds.

  They passed through the Capitol dome, in to the next dome and the next. The tunnels were the safest way to travel through the faction, but they were also the slowest due to the traffic congestion, so when they reached the end of the third dome, Marcella ordered the caravan leader to pass through the shield.

  The frozen lands always reminded Garrett of a snow globe. The occasional swirl of snow that rose in the air as a gust of wind passed by was the only movement. It was deceptively calm, making people think it wouldn’t be so bad, but the icy temperatures would bring death within minutes.

  The spell encasing the carriage from the harsh elements outside them would give them maybe an hour before the cold penetrated the thin barrier.

  By the time they approached the wall, frost crept across the window as the spell neared its end. Over the top of the marble fence, the tips of The Sanctuary’s ivory towers became visible. With the midday sun shining on them, they were like spiral beacons of hope.

  Such a deceptive appearance, Garrett thought as the knot in the pit of his stomach tightened, but he refused to give any outward sign of the anxiety building within him. He'd been gone four weeks, and every minute had been spent thinking of what he was going to do when he returned.

  He pressed his shoulder blades together and tried again to focus on the papers in front of him. The documents accounted for every atern that passed between The Council and Amadeus’s hands. It was that connection that convinced him the threat of emptying their coffers would be enough to guarantee their cooperation at The Summit. Yet the staggering numbers on the paper did little to pull his mind from their destination and his urge to tear The Sanctuary apart.

  “You’re moping.”

  Garrett looked up from the file he'd been mindlessly staring at to find his sister gazing at him with undisguised sympathy.

  “I’m working,” he replied flatly, and jerked in surprise as the carriage hit a deep rut in the road, throwing him to the side.

  “Same thing,” Marcella said, and rubbed her hands together as frigid air seeped through the cracks of the door. As often as she complained about the poor construction of the vehicle, she refused to replace it, insisting it be repaired, a sentimental exercise repeated monthly as she held on to the last belonging of their grandmother.

  “No. Actually, they’re not the same,” he said. “And you, of all people, should know that.”

  “Me of all people?” She gave a short laugh.

  “You’ve pined over a number of men, and it has never interfered with business.”

  “True,” she admitted, and tucked a stray strand of curly brown hair back in to her otherwise perfectly formed cornet. “You, however have been mixing work with pleasure ever since you met Sophie.

  “Which brings us to this visit. Why exactly are you coming?” Garrett asked.

  “You’ve never complained about me coming before,” she pointed out, her eyes narrowing on him.

  “I’m not complaining. Simply curious.”

  “Darrian contacted me—”

  “Enough,” he snapped, cutting her off.

  “Garrett, you know I support your position against The Council, and will do anything I can to help you bring them down. Your unification with Sophie is an entirely different matter.”

  His hands tightened, crumpling the edges of the papers.

  “Stop.”

  “Darrian is hoping to seek unification with this Thora girl you found. With no family, they will seek your acceptance for unification between her and Darrian.”

  Marcella reached out and scraped her fingernail through the frost, creating a delicate swirling pattern.

  “So it is my approval to give or not,” he said. “Why is he contacting you?”

  “He says you have an intense dislike of her.”

  “I don’t dislike her,” he protested. Marcella stared at him, and he resisted the impulse to squirm. “I can’t. I want them both to be happy, but I… No.”

  “Garrett, you’re my little brother, and I don’t want to see you make a mistake you’ll spend eternity paying for. When you came home, something was different with you. Then you told me of finding Thora, and everything about you lit up. You were so energized. I could see your aura flaring to life around you.”

  “I made a unification bond with Sophie,” he said. “If I renege, she’ll end up in the service wing.”

  It was the truth, though only a piece of it.

  “Do you truly believe a life with a man who will never love her is what she'd want?”

  He knew it was. “It’s done. I requested unification with Sophie. I won’t back out and leave her to face The Council.”

  “Then your future is set,” she said. “Let Darrian do the same with Thora.”

  He shook his head and glared silently at The Sanctuary as they rounded the last corner and came to the gate. They opened immediately. Marcella’s position was the only one in the faction that didn’t require any screening prior to entering.

  “This is what the city is missing,” Marcella commented as they pulled up to the steps of the building.

  “What?”

  “Flowers, grass, life. All of it.” A deep sigh escaped her. “This is what it was like before the war of the humans infiltrated the veil.”

  As they made his way up the steps to the entrance, he followed in his sister’s footsteps. He'd hea
rd stories of the human world and how such a place would have once been an insult to a man, but he knew how lucky he was to be in his position. Marcella could easily have chosen a different successor.

  Darrian greeted them at the door, a welcoming smile for Marcella that turned tentative when he glanced at Garrett.

  “How was the ride?” Darrian asked as he kept pace a step behind Garrett.

  Garrett glanced at his friend, raising an eyebrow. “Slightly more unpleasant than I'd expected.”

  “Then the frost has yet to thaw?”

  Garrett snorted at his friend’s deliberate misunderstanding. Noting the pack slung over Darrian’s shoulder, he asked, “Are you taking a trip outside the barrier?”

  “I’m heading for the woods,” Darrian said.

  “Amadeus finally approved your departure?”

  “No, but I’m not waiting any longer. My mother deserves for her soul star to rise,” Darrian said. “I’ll be back for The Summit.”

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all you’ll come back for?”

  “No. I’ll ask Thora to unite with me.”

  “It is doubtful The Council will grant approval.” And as the hunter who found her neither would he. “They won’t allow the unification between breeds.”

  Darrian smiled. “After The Summit, breeds won’t need approval from them or from family. We’ll be free.”

  And Garrett would be bound to Sophie.

  Darrian gave him a short salute of farewell and veered off toward the carriage house. Garrett watched him go, jealousy eating at him for something that hadn’t even happened yet. He rolled his shoulders, then strode into The Sanctuary to join his sister.

  Amadeus had obviously received notification of Marcella’s plan to visit. The few Fae staff members lined the halls, each gracefully bowing or curtsying as Marcella passed by. Some did the same for him, though a few defiantly remained upright despite the position he would hold one day.

  He was used to the mixed reaction he received. There was a familiarity with him from his frequent visits, but there was also the fact that in the Neraida Faction female royalty was much more common. Only a handful of men over the last few thousand years had led families, and those had been well in to their hundreds before the family passed to them. He had only celebrated his first quarter century three years ago.

  Marcella waved a hand toward Trilby, beckoning her over.

  “I’ll take my dinner in my room,” she informed the woman, then turned to him. “Garrett?”

  “I’ll take my meal in the dining hall.”

  She nodded and ascended the stairs. He gave a soft chuckle at her easy dismissal of him. His sister could act as high and mighty as a queen when she chose. Fitting, considering if she had her way, that was exactly what she would be. It was also how he knew her decision to support him in taking down The Council had just as much to do with protecting the breeds as it did with reclaiming the royal title for their family.

  With dinner still a couple of hours away, he headed to the library. He passed the kitchen and spotted Sophie barking orders at her group. She looked up, and their eyes met. The ice he found there was colder than what was outside the faction.

  How had he missed that side of her for so long? He had started to see the bitterness she harbored in her heart when he first returned with Thora, but the conversation he had with her in the atrium had utterly destroyed any lingering feelings he held for her.

  He had asked her to release him from his unification promise. It went against everything he'd been raised to believe he stood for; against what it meant to be a Zannis or even a hunter. Yet, he'd pleaded with her to let him go, so they might both find happiness.

  And she said no.

  He’d been ready to bargain with her. Then Thora showed up, and Sophie threatened to have Amadeus reassign her to the service staff. That was the moment he realized the woman he thought Sophie was never existed. He also realized that he would do anything to keep Thora safe.

  Chapter 13

  Thora folded the last of the bed sheets and placed them on the tall stack still to be shelved. A quick glance at the back of the laundry room confirmed her suspicions—Rossa was in the midst of another daydream.

  With an exasperated snort, Thora grabbed a pair of socks from one of the baskets and threw it at the other woman. The balled-up cloth hit Rossa in the center of her forehead, jerking the other woman from her thoughts.

  “Ouch!” Rossa rubbed her head.

  “It was socks. Not a rock,” Thora said. “Though if Trilby were here, it might have been.”

  “That old crone loves me. She would never do that.” Rossa bent to pick up the socks, and tossed them in to the basket. “You, on the other hand, will most assuredly be on extra kitchen duties if she sees that you haven’t finished the sheets.”

  “I’m only supposed to be folding. Your job is to shelve them.” Thora pushed the stack of sheets toward her friend. “I’m done.”

  “Well, phooey.” Rossa frowned, but gathered the clean laundry and set about her task.

  Knowing Rossa was unlikely to finish in time without someone to distract her from her daydreams, Thora went around to the other side of the folding table and picked up one of the stacks, carrying them over to Rossa at the large closet.

  Laundry was Thora’s least favorite of the chores in The Sanctuary. The room constantly hummed with the sound of washers and dryers, and the heat was suffocating. It was amazing how much laundry one hundred people amassed each day.

  There'd been a time before Thora first arrived that each person was given one chore to do and that was what you did. Every day. She shuddered at the thought of being trapped in that room for hours on end, day after day.

  “Your mind has been wandering the clouds today,” Thora noted as Rossa took the sheets and set them on the top shelf.

  A secretive smile crept across Rossa’s face as her cheeks flushed. She glanced around the room, ensuring they were alone, and leaned in close.

  “Samris is approaching The Council about unification between us,” she whispered.

  “What?!” Thora shouted.

  “Shh!” Rossa pressed a hand over Thora’s mouth and scanned the room again.

  Thora brushed the other woman’s hand away. “Stop being silly. There’s no one in here, and even if there were, unless they were full Fae, they wouldn’t be able to hear us.”

  “I didn’t want to speak it aloud for fear of cursing myself,” Rossa said. “But I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.”

  She gripped a corner of one of the sheets and spun in circles, the white material flowing behind her as if it were the train of her unification dress. Dizziness soon had her staggering, and she collapsed against the table with a joyous laugh.

  Thora frowned, wishing she could be happy for her friend, but the thought of Rossa uniting with Samris just seemed wrong. From her perspective, Rossa was making an enormous mistake by accepting his unification promise when she clearly had feelings for Darrian.

  Shaking her head, Thora gripped the now dirty sheet Rossa had been waving around and rolled it into a ball.

  “Well, that’s not the reaction I expected.” The hurt in Rossa’s voice jabbed at Thora.

  “I’m happy for you,” Thora replied.

  “You don’t sound happy.”

  “I am,” Thora said, and jammed the balled-up sheet into the bottom of the laundry bin. She turned back to Rossa. “If this is truly what you want then I’m happy for you.”

  “Like I should be happy you’re willing to accept Darrian when you’re in love with his best friend?” Rossa asked, her face scrunched up and eyes glistening with angry tears.

  Thora gasped not only at the accusation but that it had come from Rossa. Thora opened her mouth to defend herself, but there was nothing she could say that would help. Rossa was right.

  “I want a life outside of this dome. I want to experience The Capitol without fear of the Bascadors selling me off to anyone who’ll pay. S
amris is a good man, and he’ll protect me. I’m going after what I want.” Rossa angrily stomped her foot and pointed a finger in Thora’s direction. “You’re simply standing by as Sophie steals Garrett away from you.”

  “She can’t steal what I never had,” Thora said.

  “I’ve seen how he looks at you. He wants you.”

  He might desire her, but she wanted more than that. She wanted his heart.

  Grabbing the last bundle of sheets, Thora handed them to Rossa, then went back to the folding station. With jerky movements, she tidied her area, aware of Rossa watching her.

  “I’m a horrible person,” Rossa said as she stood on the other side of the table. “I want you to be happy like I am.”

  Thora sighed and gave her friend a forced smile. “You’re not a horrible person, Rossa. I am happy that you’ll be living your dream.”

  She didn’t wait for Rossa to respond. Instead, she shoved the last of the sheets at her then left the laundry room. Rossa called after her, but Thora pretended not to hear.

  Up on the main floor, she made her way to the library. Pushing aside her thoughts of Garrett, she settled on the window bench and fell in to the fictional lives of an underground commune of humans surviving in the Fae realm.

  At the groan of the gate outside, Thora pulled back the dark curtains, a strange combination of excitement and nerves sending her heart fluttering. The panels of the wall inched their way apart, and a swirl of snow rushed through, falling in a soft misty rain as the flakes melted in the heat of the courtyard. As the gate opened wider, the cold outside took over, and the grass and flowers nearest the entrance frosted over.

  It wasn’t uncommon for visitors to come to The Sanctuary, but that was different. The caravan of carriages signaled the arrival of royalty, and with its twisting vines and vibrant blue glow, the Zannis family crest was unmistakable.

  A knot of excitement and dread settled in the pit of her stomach as the first carriage passed through.

  “Is that them?”

  Thora turned to see Aris, a young breed boy who had appeared alone at the gate a week ago, standing a few feet away. The shield he'd been cloaked with had indicated that someone had been caring for him, but they had been gone by the time the gate opened, leaving the five-year-old boy at the mercy of Amadeus.