by Shona Husk
The dog pawed at the ground and whined again. Verden ignored it this time. They wouldn’t listen to him for much longer.
The Queen smiled. “Happy hunting.” Then she walked away.
It was so tempting to notch an arrow and shoot her in the back. But if she died, Annwyn would instantly succumb to winter. Felan wouldn’t want that. Verden didn’t want that. No fairy, or mortal, did.
The King watched her leave. “You let her win, Verden. I am disappointed you fell for her play.”
“I didn’t see her game.” He hadn’t seen anything except Taryn.
“You let yourself be blinded.”
“So demote me now and be done with it.” He wanted this over. He didn’t want to have to go through with this. Couldn’t they just pick up swords and fight to first blood or something equally civilized? This was a throwback to old law, ancient law so lost in time he’d only heard whisperings of it happening. The Court needed to start writing down laws.
“I don’t want to strip you of your rank even though you betrayed me. That will come soon enough.” He glanced at Felan, who kept his face almost blank. The thin press of his lips was all that gave away his concern. “I want you to know what it feels like to be damned no matter what choice you make.”
He wanted her, wanted to prove to the King she was his. Yet he knew Taryn wouldn’t want that. She needed him to fail, so she could finish what she’d started. Plus he knew if he shot her, he’d never be able to look her in the eye again. He’d been up all night trying to work out what to do. The only viable option was for him to throw the hunt. The King would save face and everything would go on for a little while at least.
“Was there not another way to settle this?”
The King looked at him. “I still rule. Maybe you forget that. Maybe I let you have too much freedom because I trusted you too much.”
“I have never betrayed you in anything but this.”
“It was enough. It was public.”
“She will never look at us the same if we do this.” His voice was quiet, as if he were already defeated. That was the wrong attitude to go in with, but a tiny part of him still believed he could reason with the King and make him change his mind. That it wasn’t too late.
“She has already been turned into a doe and set free, only the piercing of an arrow will return her to fairy.” Felan looked at both of them. “Both of you acted foolishly. Whatever comes from this you brought on yourselves. It’s a pity you dragged an innocent into this.”
“She’s no innocent,” the King snapped.
“She was to the ways of Annwyn and Court. I invited her here and you both trampled on that invitation.” Felan was sounding more like a King and less like a loyal son.
Father and son glared at each other, the tension clear. While Verden had once envied Felan and his automatic rank, now Verden was glad he could walk away from Annwyn and everything it entailed. He’d achieved his dream and it had soured on his tongue.
“You invited her but did nothing to shield her from the wolves who sought to use her naïveté.” Gwyn looked pointedly at Verden, as if he had committed an offense. Maybe he had; he’d made the great error of letting his heart become involved.
“A mistake I won’t make again.” Felan uncrossed his arms. “I have other things to do today. Are you both ready?”
“Let’s get this done.” Verden shouldered his bow.
The men marched through the woods; never had there been a grimmer hunting party. Even the hounds were behaving oddly. Was the changing of season getting to them?
After some time, Gwyn spoke. “What color doe is Taryn?”
“Her fur is white.” Felan almost spat the word.
White. Verden suppressed a smile. At least Taryn had nothing to be accountable for. If she’d been tan or, worse, black, there would have been more questions asked. White meant her word was true. Whatever deal she’d made with the King, she’d intended to keep. That took any budding smile from off his lips. What had she agreed to before he’d danced with her and ruined everything? He risked a glance at Gwyn, but the King was looking straight ahead, his lips a thin, straight line, his face unreadable.
They stop at a doorway made of two rocky cairns no higher than his knee.
“Where did you take her?”
“The wilds of Ireland. That was the last place this ritual was carried out. I was just a child.”
The King grunted his agreement, then stepped through the doorway and across the veil.
***
The white doe shivered and lifted her head as if sensing a change on the air, a shimmer of magic on the summer breeze. Her delicate legs began to tremble. Magic meant danger. But she didn’t know why, only that she needed to run. Her stride was awkward, as if she’d never used the legs before. She stumbled and tripped, not sure why everything felt wrong and muddled. She needed to remember.
What did she need to remember?
She slowed to a walk as she tried to understand the images flitting through her head. Too many didn’t make sense. The smells of the forest overwhelmed. There was too much strangeness and nothing was familiar.
Remember who you are.
But she didn’t know who she was.
A dog barked and was joined by another. She knew that the thrumming in her chest was fear, and it gave her legs the power and coordination they needed to run.
Faster, faster, her heart pounded out the rhythm of her run.
Faster, faster, don’t let them get you.
Who was coming to get her?
She didn’t have time to remember or think; she had to run.
Faster, faster. Over rocks and weaving through the oak trees, leaping ferns and moss-covered rocks. On one side white flashed in the undergrowth. She paused at the sight of the white hound with red ears; a memory tugged, but she couldn’t stop and examine it. The dog barked and ran toward her. She darted away, changing course. In the distance a river bubbled. She didn’t want to get caught by the water. Rivers were bad; again a memory pulled and threatened to slow her.
Another hound cut her off. Its tail wagged as if in greeting. The doe took a step back. Were they friend or foe? The dog tilted its head and ginned at her, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. The dog yipped at her and bounced on its paws as if asking her to play and follow; when she didn’t move, it did it again. She took a hesitant step forward.
The other dog rubbed against her legs and gazed up at her.
Something wasn’t right.
She should fear the dogs and yet she knew them; she’d seen them before. How was that possible when she recognized nothing here? The doe lowered her head and nuzzled the dog. It smelled familiar, of someone familiar, someone she trusted and loved. Thoughts began to reassemble. A man in other forests.
A voice shattered her concentration and the memory was lost. All she smelled were dog, earth, and leaves.
Through the trees she saw two men, both raised their weapons. Her memories couldn’t be trusted. She couldn’t trust anyone.
Run, her heart urged. She turned to flee, the hounds at her heels as if they were protecting her from the men. Faster, faster.
Chapter 20
Verden didn’t pause to look at the forest, but he felt it around him, bristling with life and magic. The old plants, oak and holly, birch and rowan all growing together. That is why this place called the wild fae and old magic. Again they were here watching and listening as the three men chased after the white doe.
How much of Taryn was in there? He leaped onto a fallen tree and sighted along the arrow, one heartbeat, two. A dog ran between him and the shot and she moved, running again. Racing away. He’d missed a chance to claim her. He could have turned her back to fairy. But he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. Yet someone had to or she would spend the rest of her days as a deer.
He glanced at Gwyn then Felan. He’d never seen the Prince quite so—not angry. This was too controlled—cold fury. The worst bit was the Prince was right. The feud between hi
m and Gwyn shouldn’t have happened, not now when Annwyn needed stability.
Curse it all to the river and himself with it.
“Did you tell her she needed to be shot to return to being fairy?” He jumped down and followed the King, who was now in the lead. Flashes of white slipped between the trees. She was racing downhill with his hounds. Even they had sided with Taryn.
“Yes.” Felan didn’t look at him; he just kept moving. “Are you trying to lose her?”
Verden sighted again, but it was a dog—were they deliberately running interference for her? Protecting her?
“I lose either way. So does it matter?”
“It matters why you choose to lose.” Felan scrambled down a rocky bank and swung around a tree.
Verden knew he had to pick up his pace or he would have no chance of winning. If shooting the woman he loved could be called winning.
“I want her to win. I don’t want her to be mine just because of some stupid hunt.”
“It’s a sacred hunt.” Felan glanced at him as he jumped ahead. “But stupid.”
Verden dropped to his knee, arrow notched. She was moving but he had a shot. He tried to breath but couldn’t.
The snap of a bowstring broke the quiet. Not his bowstring. The King had made the shot. Would the arrow fly true? An arrow flew through the air and scored the doe’s flank before embedding in the tree behind her. Blue blossomed on white fur. Then she shimmered, becoming fairy again.
Verden let relief wash over him. The hunt was over. He’d failed, but she was fairy again. He lowered his bow and watched as Felan covered the distance and threw his cloak around her naked body. However, instead of standing and being furious at him like Verden expected, she collapsed.
Verden dropped his bow and ran to her.
“Taryn.” He touched her cheek, kissed her lips, willing her to wake. Nothing and no one would stop him from loving her. “What’s wrong with her?” He clasped her hand, not caring that he’d lost the right to be with her. She was his in his heart, as he was hers. “Love?”
Felan peeled back his cloak. The wound hadn’t healed when she’d changed. It still bled freely, and the edges of the wound were black, as if her flesh were dying. The two men looked at each other. Taryn was dying. The hounds growled and barked the way they had at the weapons store. The arrows.
“You lost, Hunter, get away.” The King had slung his bow over his should and made his way casually down. “Or does your word mean nothing?”
Verden stood. “My word? What have you done? What poison have you tainted her with?” He shoved the King backward.
The King stumbled, his eyes cold. Verden didn’t wait for him to regain his balance. He grabbed the King’s fine clothing, fisting the cloth, and pressed him against the nearest tree. Anger and fear surged in his blood. “What have you done to her?” He didn’t recognize his voice; it was cracked and rough.
“Unhand me.” The King placed his hand over Verden’s. His voice was calm, and his gaze level as if he thought fighting was beneath him. “I have done nothing but use the arrows you supplied.”
“Me? You think I would kill the woman I love?” Verden released him, disgusted that the man he’d once called friend could even think that.
A flicker of something crossed the King’s face. When he didn’t speak, Verden turned to Taryn, now cradled in Felan’s arms.
“She needs to go back to Annwyn. Now. While there is a chance to save her.” Felan stood.
“I’ll take her.” Verden reached for her.
“You won’t be taking her anywhere.” The King put his hand on Verden’s arm.
“She is dying and you want to bicker?” What was wrong with Gwyn?
“You failed to check the weapons. You attacked me. You are remaining here.”
“No.” Verden shrugged off his grip and walked on, following Felan back to the doorway. “Your wife poisoned the arrows.”
“You have no proof, Verden.”
The use of his name stopped him. He faced the King again. “People have been convicted on less. Nothing would please her more than Taryn’s death.”
“Shall I add treason to your charges?” The King crossed his arms. “Shall I get Felan to stop walking so we can argue? I care not if she lives or dies.”
“You bastard.” His hands curled into fists, but he kept them by his side. “Was she ever anything more than a charming distraction to you?”
“Stop, Verden.” Felan turned around, Taryn limp and pale in the Prince’s arms. “The arrow had been dipped in the river of the damned. Knowing my mother, they were all tainted, so no matter who shot her the result would be the same.”
“I’m not leaving her side. I made that mistake once already.” They should never have broken up.
“It’s not your choice right now. The King will not let you cross the veil.”
“I love her.”
“Trust me when I say I understand and that it’s the worst feeling ever to walk away. But if you want her to live and for there to still be a chance, obey.”
Verden clenched his teeth and looked at the Prince. The mask of the gambler he’d worn was gone and he saw the true face of the Prince. All that time spent in the hall playing games he was gathering information and making alliances and deals without anyone realizing what he held in his hand.
“What is it to be, Verden? Will you condemn her with you?” The King crossed his arms.
Verden placed a last kiss on her cool lips. His heart clenched and cracked. He couldn’t breathe. He’d do anything so see her smile…anything to hear her rail at him for ruining everything at the dance. “Save her.” But again, his voice wasn’t his own; it was too fragile and broken. He watched as Felan and Taryn crossed the veil to Annwyn.
Slowly he turned to face the King he’d once served loyally, willingly. Now all he wanted was to be free of the lot of them. “You want me gone, never to set foot in Annwyn again. Fine. I won’t.” He’d do whatever was asked if only she’d live.
The King shook his head. “The damage has been done. You have overstepped and overstepped again. The one person I should’ve have been able to trust betrayed me, attacked me. You can’t be my Hunter.”
“The Queen poisoned Taryn, and you were using her for your own amusement. What would you have me do?”
“Obey me, trust me the way you once did. I will always do what is right for Annwyn.”
None of this was right. Verden drew in a breath heavy with the scent of earth and leaves. Alive in a way Annwyn never could be. That he would never be again if Taryn died. He knew what was coming. If he was no longer the Hunter, Gwyn had to make sure he stayed on this side of the veil. He was damned. “You play right into the Queen’s hands.”
“I have my own game to play. When you danced with Taryn, I couldn’t save you. You weren’t watching the game. You played into her hands.” Gwyn looked disappointed. “I expected more.”
“More? I have nothing left to give. Annwyn has bled me dry. Just get it over with and free me.”
The King stepped closer. “What happened to the man who climbed so high so fast and was so full of ambition?”
“He got to the top and realized the view wasn’t worth it.” He could slit the King’s throat and be done with it. But that would plunge the Court into turmoil, Annwyn into a long winter as the throne was fought for, and doom the mortal world that was already struggling as death broke free of the river. He stayed his hand. There was more at stake than his wounded heart.
Gwyn gave a brief smile that held no joy. “Try sitting up there day after day after day. You are right about my wife. I will deal with her. But I’m going to need a new Hunter to ruin her game. Who can I give that role to when the end of my rule is so close?”
“Why not let me finish the job?” It was a long shot but it made sense. No one else would want the job when the end of Gwyn’s rule was so close.
“No. You will not cross the veil to Annwyn again under my rule. I cannot afford weakness or Felan will b
e under threat. Perhaps Taryn could do the job. She has no plans to remain at Court after the power shift?”
Verden shook his head. “You would make her Lady of the Hunt?”
“Why not?”
It also had the advantage of binding her closer to Annwyn and the King—and further from Verden. Age might have made him weary, but the King was still sharp as a knife and twice as dangerous.
“I’m sure she would be honored—if she lives.” His voice was more of a snarl and he couldn’t bring himself to bow and smile as he should. He wouldn’t get to be with Taryn again until Felan was King, assuming Gwyn banished him. If the King exiled him, Verden would be dead as soon as Felan took the throne. Either way he was losing Taryn and he could do nothing.
“It should never have come to this. You should have come to me. You should have told me what you felt for Taryn. Now I have lost my only friend, a loyal subject, and must find my wife guilty of attempted murder.” The King placed his hand on Verden’s chest, over his heart, and Verden braced for what was coming. He didn’t know which punishment to hope for. “Verden ap Hollis ap Lorcyn you are hereby relieved of your title of Hunter of Annwyn and banished until I, or whomever is King, sees fit to restore you or until you waste away.” Gwyn removed the Hunter’s sword and stepped back.
Banishment. Verden felt the loss immediately. The magic of Annwyn that had flowed in his blood since he was born was gone. He had become a Grey, the lowest of all fairies. What was usually the worst punishment was now a blessing. There was a chance Felan would restore him, yet it brought him no joy.
He was empty yet heavy, as if weighed down by the grief that he could never see Taryn again unless she crossed into the mortal world. How long did have before he started wasting? Weeks? Months? Years if he used no magic? What if Felan did nothing, or worse, what if Felan failed and someone else claimed Annwyn? There were many who’d revel in his fall. How could he expect Taryn to be happy with a Grey?