by Shona Husk
“Except now.” She scrunched up the paper, her burger now gone.
He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. “Hey, there is time. Felan hasn’t even lined up a bride yet. He can’t claim the throne on his own.”
“True.” She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I suppose we have to go back.”
“It’s been a lovely afternoon.” One he didn’t really want to end. He’d never imagined that being in the mortal world surrounded by humans could be so pleasant. Not that he could imagine living here. Fairies belonged in Annwyn, if not at Court.
“Despite the food.” But there was a glint her eye and he knew she wasn’t offended by his lack of eating.
She gathered up the garbage and threw it in the bin; then they started the walk back to the doorway. On the trail they passed a few walkers, but he let the magic go and they vanished from sight, leaving them free to leave the trail and wander through the forest hand in hand—as if everything were perfect. As if they wouldn’t have to go back to ignoring each other except when required to speak and play. It was becoming harder and harder to watch and say nothing.
Verden stopped, his fingers sliding against Taryn’s. He turned around, listening.
“The doorway is this way, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “Something isn’t right.”
“We were just here.”
“No we weren’t. We joined the trail much later, as we didn’t know where we were going.” He turned again. “There’s a river here?”
She nodded but she was frowning. “There are waterfalls too.”
That wasn’t what he could sense. He felt death—and the not the usual random kind of death, but a breech in the veil. He ran through the forest, hoping it wasn’t a big tear, praying that it was nothing to worry about and something Felan could fix. He came to a stop by the body of a bear.
“What’s going on?” Taryn whispered. “Is that alive?” She took a step closer.
“Nothing is alive.” From the banks of the river spread death. The trees had shed their leaves. Squirrels lay unmoving on the ground, handfuls of gray fluff.
He walked closer, his stomach twisting until he saw the cause—a faint shimmer over the river that seemed to overspill. Not a lot, a small trickle. But it was enough. Then he saw the fairy on the other side. Felan. And he’d seen them.
“You sensed the tear?” Felan’s face was grim. His gaze skimmed over Verden and landed on Taryn.
Verden felt her stiffen. She wasn’t supposed to be in the mortal world at all and certainly not with him. He decided to ignore the obvious and stick to the problem of the river. “How did it happen?”
“I don’t know.” Felan shook his head. “I don’t think I can mend it either. There are too many. I stop one and another one opens.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Annwyn is failing.”
Verden swallowed, the lingering taste of human food on his tongue, the weight of it in his stomach. There was nothing he could do to help Felan, not without breaking his word to Gwyn.
“I know,” he said simply.
Felan nodded. “You are true to your word?”
The two men stared at each other across the river poisoned with death. “Always.” He’d sworn to Gwyn and nothing would change that.
Felan’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Taryn, I would love to know why you aren’t at Court. I’m sure I didn’t give you leave to cross the veil.”
“Now is not the time.” Verden didn’t want to be explaining what was going on, even though he knew it was already too late. Felan knew; he just wanted to hear it spoken and gain leverage.
“I think it is.” There was a look in Felan’s eye that only came when a man knew the next three moves his opponent was going to make.
He was about to get tied up in a deal he didn’t want to make just to keep his…his affair with Taryn private.
“I found a doorway by accident and Verden warned me about crossing and then we found the river,” Taryn said. But the lie had no substance, her words were too fast and too ill thought out.
“If you’re going to lie to the Prince, you have to do better than that,” Verden muttered.
“It was all I had,” she whispered back. Her fingers threaded with his. Whatever was going to happen, they were in it together.
He held her hand tightly. Not even Felan would pull her away from him.
The Prince didn’t miss the linking of their hands. He shook his head. “You are lucky it’s me standing here and not my father.”
“I’m aware of that, my Prince.” Verden inclined his head. If Felan wanted Verden to offer up himself, he’d be waiting until Annwyn froze over—which probably wasn’t that far away.
“I don’t think telling of this meeting”—Felan nodded at the tear in the veil—“would be beneficial to anyone at Court.”
Verden glanced at the silvery rip in the veil weeping death into the river and killing everything around it. He knew it would spread, that the dead animals and trees were just the start. Then he looked at the Prince. He wasn’t smiling; there were no offhand jokes and no goblet in his hand. This was the Felan that few at Court ever saw. This was the man keeping the edges of Annwyn from fraying too badly and preparing to take the throne. For all the whispers and doubts, Felan was playing a clever game, and a dangerous one. While few saw him as a threat to Annwyn, those same people didn’t think he could rule.
He could rule. He knew what he was doing and what was required. Which meant when Felan wasn’t at Court, he was doing more than fixing the tears; he was courting. That he was lining up a bride was something he wouldn’t want known, as someone could follow him and attack the woman.
“We are both spending more time than usual in the mortal world, both for work and pleasure.”
Felan nodded. “So we understand each other. Let’s not speak of this again.”
“Wait.” Taryn released Verden’s hand and stepped closer to the edge of the river. “You can’t leave this like this. People will die.”
“Taryn…” Verden tried to draw her back. They had been just about to walk away with their secret safely kept.
“I can’t do anything. If I close this one, another will open.” Felan glanced along the river. “I think letting the wound spill in one place is better than many small cuts.”
“But this spills into a river; it will spread.”
“All the tears start at a river.” Verden grasped her hand and pulled her back from the edge of the water. Bodies of water were places of death. He didn’t like standing here. He didn’t know how Felan did it.
“Educate her, will you? I don’t have time.” With that the Prince turned and walked downstream, no doubt checking how bad the damage was. Even if it wasn’t bad now, in a few hours or days it would be.
“Come on, we need to get back.” He tugged at her hand.
“He did nothing.” Her words were soft, as if she couldn’t believe the Prince of Death would let people die.
“He is right. It is better he lets a few tears bleed and monitor them, rather than sealing and guessing where the next rupture is. Would you rather one plague or hundreds?” He’d rather none. But it was too late for that. Far too late.
This time she let herself be led back to the doorway.
Verden didn’t take her straight back to the castle. He did as the Prince had asked and took Taryn to see the river of damned souls. Most fairies avoided the place. Even when everything was in balance, there was an eerie quality to the river, a silence that sent shivers up the back of most fairies and gave them a healthy fear of water.
These days the river wasn’t just eerie; it was malevolent, as if all the damned souls trapped in it were determined to break free and wreak havoc on anyone and everything. The closer they got, the thicker the carpet of brown leaves became. They crunched beneath his boots and echoed in the silence. The flower vines that twisted around the trees were withered, and the jewels of sap were black boils on the bark.
“Where are we going?”
“The river. The river of damned souls overlays every river in the mortal world. Across the veil, rivers mean life, freshwater, and food. Here it is death.” Before him spread the river, wider, rougher, and darker than ever. Waves lapped at the bases of the closest trees. Those trees were dead; frost was starting to form on the tips of the branches—the first signs of winter.
He hadn’t expected that. Autumn well established, yes, but not ice. The realization took his breath. Felan knew about this, had wanted him to see, but how many others knew that winter was creeping toward the castle?
Taryn stood silent.
As if sensing them, the river surged closer, the surface lifting as if faces and limbs were trying to break free.
“This place is horrible.”
“Necessary. Not every soul is worthy of crossing the bridge to Elysia.”
“Hell is literally breaking loose.”
Verden nodded. “Yes. Disease will spread.” Taryn knew the mortal world better than him. “Do you know what smallpox is?”
She nodded. “It was eradicated a few decades ago.” She turned to look at him. “It’s back, isn’t it?”
“It never left; it was merely contained by Felan and me. Before Gwyn took the throne, there were many years of battle between him and his brother—centuries in mortal time. Millions died of disease. The fairy population was decimated as battles were fought. It was a long, dark winter I’m told. Gwyn picked a bride in a hurry to cement his rule, but she was more in love with power than him. After his battle with his brother, he never allowed her a second child.”
“Maybe he should’ve and then we wouldn’t be here.”
“It would have happened eventually and Felan would have had to fight his sibling.”
“Why did Gwyn fight for it? Why not walk away and end it all?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Few alive now would remember. Gwyn is old; even fairies don’t live forever.”
“Felan will need a wife to balance the magic.”
“That’s why he is spending more time in the mortal world.”
“He’s not just patching the veil?”
Verden shook his head. “We keep his secret; he keeps ours.”
“Are you telling me every plague in human history comes from here?” She pointed at the river.
“All disease comes from here. Even before fairies claimed Annwyn, there were breeches in the veil. In my time as Hunter, I’ve seen big and small plagues. Every time the King and Queen fight, thousands die. Humans have got better at protecting themselves and stopping the spread, but it still happens.”
The river rippled unnaturally, faces peering from beneath the dark water.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted their time together to be. He’d wanted sunlight and laughter. He’d eat a burger, meat and all, just to go back and reclaim their afternoon, but it was lost beneath the poisoned water of the river—another early casualty in the coming battle. He sighed.
“I’m sorry our day didn’t go as planned.”
“I didn’t realize things were so bad.” Her eyes were full of pain. “I need to get my parents back, fast.”
He closed his eyes, unable to look at her. He’d bring them back now if he had that power. Only the King could. “Do what you have to with the King, and I will try not to watch.”
“Verden…I…”
“I don’t want to know.” He wouldn’t be able to live if he knew the details. “Just do what you have to as I do.”
Sex means nothing—how hollow his words were now.
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 fl
ip-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?
Chapter 12
Arranging a hunt was relatively simple. Tell the shadows to prepare a picnic. Check and prepare weapons; then check the numbers of animals. A few deer, and some smaller game and birds were always kept in Annwyn for hunting. He kept the supply stable—neither too little, or the animals would suffer from lack of companionship, nor too many that they would breed and become a problem. Some were animals that had accidentally crossed the veil and decided to stay; others had deliberately been brought across. Either way, they were his responsibility.