Lord of the Hunt (26 page)

She stepped closer, her lips parting. His hands skimmed down her torso to her hips; he dragged her close for a moment. Their bodies touched; her breath was on his neck. She smelled like a joy he could never hold on to. He let her go and she spun away, as if tempting him to chase and capture. She was already his; he wouldn’t let her go, even if they couldn’t be together right now. They would be together.

When he grasped her hand and drew her against him, her back to his chest, she didn’t resist. Was she putting on a show? He tore his gaze from her to scan the room, but everyone was involved in their own dancing—some had already moved to the shadowed grottoes created by the imported trees.

He would take what he could have tonight and be happy; he had at least had her in his arms and was doing nothing that others weren’t. He was being almost tame. His hand smoothed over her belly, across her hip; he jerked her closer so the curve of her butt pressed against his hardened shaft. He’d like nothing better than to drag her off somewhere private but they would be missed. He placed a kiss on her shoulder. His fingers laced with hers as he lifted her arm, then let his hand trail down and brush the curve of her breast. She bent her arm to run her fingers through his hair.

“I want you,” he murmured, not caring if she heard over the music and the sounds of other people dancing and fucking.

She turned in his arms. Her eyes were glittering as if full of stars. “Don’t make me want what I cannot have tonight.” But her hand was on his chest, her fingernails pressing against his skin.

He’d rather pain in his skin than his heart. “And tomorrow?”

Verden lifted her, then let her slide down his body. When her feet touched the ground, she broke the contact. She stalked around him, her hand smoothing across his bare back. He caught her as she swept past. With hands crossing their bodies, he danced a few formal steps to the much faster beat. She followed his lead as if accepting that he had won and she was his.

Only for the dance.

It was enough. For tonight.

She leaned back over his arm and he kissed her naval, before swooping her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck briefly before snapping away too fast for it to be part of the dance. Verden spun to see what had shocked her.

The Queen was clapping and by her side the King was still, as if carved in granite.

He drew away from Taryn and bowed to the royals and hoped that they had just enjoyed the dance and saw nothing more. His chest was heaving, his blood was hot, and his skin was like ice. The Queen’s glee was too much of a contrast to her husband’s empty face.

Without looking at Taryn, he walked away, and he could sense her doing the same, felt the distance between them. He was aware of her as she took a goblet from a shadow servant and tried to disappear into the darkness.

The King’s gaze fell on him, and he beckoned Verden forward with the smallest curve of his fingers. Dread swelled in his gut and he knew he’d stepped into a trap set by the Queen. He looked at her; a small smile turned the corners of her lips, the luminescent paint turning her face into a grimacing mask.

The sword in his heart twisted. She knew about him and Taryn.

Tonight had been all about him. The wild fae. Her asking him to dance with Taryn.

The Queen had proven to Gwyn that he couldn’t trust his Hunter or his mistress. What a fool he’d been. He should have paid more attention to the games and worried less about how much he wanted Taryn. Verden swallowed as he walked over, but already he could feel the river of the drowned souls closing over his head and smothering him. He should have been more careful.

He should have done a hundred things differently in those few short moments.

Now they were undone. Maybe.

Perhaps he could talk his way out of it. One dance at a festival meant nothing. He strolled over as if he’d done nothing wrong. But he had. Every time he’d taken Taryn across the veil, he’d broken the order that she remain in Annwyn; every time he’d kissed her, he’d known the King would be wounded if he thought his would-be mistress were with someone else. Every time he’d tried not to fall in love with her, he knew he was risking losing something most fairies couldn’t grasp. Few at Court could make the sacrifice required to love. Most married for privilege or power.

His father had been right. Court had nothing to offer the heart, but he’d been too young to appreciate the words.

The King looked at him as if he’d just crawled out from under a toadstool. “You danced well.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He inclined his head.
Please
just
let
this
go; let us all walk away and be sane in the morning.
Then he’d try and keep it all in again and try not to think of what was going on when he closed his eyes to sleep.

“I think you enjoyed it far more than me. You seem to know her far better than me. How is that?”

Verden lifted his gaze and met the King’s pale, unflinching stare. There was no friendship left between them and the loyalty was stretched tenuously fine. If Gwyn did anything to hurt Taryn, there would be reparation to be made.

“Answer me.”

He wouldn’t lie but he wasn’t going to condemn himself or Taryn either. “I’ve seen her at Court.”

Gwyn placed his hand on Verden’s shoulder as if he were just talking; around them the party continued as if nothing were amiss. Damn the Queen and her jealousy. If she’d let it ride out, they could have all walked away with scratches instead of cuts.

The King’s fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and their fake horns clashed. “How long have you been bedding her?”

“She is your mistress. What we did meant nothing. It happened before your intents were clear.” It sounded like hollow excuses even in his ears.

“You think I’m a fool? I know what you’re like. I watched as you clawed your way to the top. I admired that you always put so much on the line. But you’ve crossed too many today.”

Verden turned his head and used his horns to push back and make breathing space. Sweat was cooling on his skin, chilling him. “Does it matter what happens when the leaves fall around us? We play and party but winter draws closer. Let it go.”

“You are telling me to let it go?” The King tossed his head, and the antlers caught Verden on the cheek.

Verden stepped back. He used the back of his hand to wipe his cheek. It came away slick and covered in blue blood. Now they had an audience.

“You’ve claimed first blood. I’ll walk away.” He kept his voice low to stop others from overhearing. It was bad enough that they watched with interest.

“No, you struck the first blow.” He pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head as if the antlers weighed too much. “You betrayed me. Now you will pay.”

Verden lowered his gaze to the floor. “What do you desire, sire?”

The King was silent. Verden counted his heartbeats while he waited. Three…five…eight. He wanted to look up, but didn’t.

“I want a hunt. Winner keeps the prize.”

Verden risked looking up. “Sire?”

What exactly did he mean by hunt?

“Taryn will be the doe. Whoever catches her keeps her.”

While time moved differently in Annwyn than the mortal world, Verden was sure it slowed just around him. He glanced at the Queen, who hadn’t looked this happy in too long. He caught Felan’s gaze, but the Prince looked away. Held by the Prince was Taryn. He couldn’t read her expression in the dim light, but Felan was doing his best to keep her from making this worse. He could see Felan’s lips moving but couldn’t understand the words.

Worse. How much worse could this get? The King wanted to turn Taryn into a doe and then hunt her down. “I will not shoot her.”

“Then you will lose. But you will hunt at my side one last time, Lord Verden.”

Chapter 18

Taryn tried to get free of Felan’s grasp. Dark blood was trickling from a wound on Verden’s cheek. She knew the King and Verden were arguing about her, but she couldn’t hear the words. They were keeping the dispute private even though most had now stopped to watch.

“Keep still if you know what is good for you,” Felan muttered near her ear.

In truth, she didn’t know what she was going to do if she did get free. Run to Verden? No, that would look bad. Go to the King’s side? That is what she should do. But she knew her feet wouldn’t be able to move.

She should never have danced with Verden. Even now her heart was beating too fast and her skin was hot from his touch. She needed him. She loved him.

“What is going on?”

“He saw you dancing with Verden and worked out what is going on.”

“We broke up.”

“You didn’t look very broken up while dancing. It doesn’t pay to be careless at Court.”

She turned to face the Prince. “It was one dance.”

“It was more than a dance. When you were with him…” Felan shook his head. “I’m not blind and neither is my father.”

The King lifted his head to face the crowd. “There will be a hunt tomorrow in the mortal world to settle the dispute. I will not let it spoil the festivities of midsummer.” He flicked his hand and everyone turned away, not wanting to be caught looking after being dismissed.

But she could hear the whisperings.

People glanced her way. Did they know what the argument was about?

The King took his seat and then beckoned her forward. She shook herself free of Felan.

Felan grabbed her hand. “I can only help you so much now. Be careful. His temper is frayed.” Then he released her arm and followed at a distance.

Was he her ally or protecting his own interests in her father? She had to look after herself.

Taryn sat down next to the King as if nothing had happened, but the tension coiled around her and all of the humor in his eyes was gone. He looked cold and calculating and alien.

“You made me a deal with me. Did you intend to honor it?”

“Yes, sire.” She bowed her head. She would have kept her word even if it killed her. A fairy’s word was good—if it wasn’t, they quickly found themselves out of favor and out of Annwyn.

“Would you have been faithful to me?” He asked, his hand slapping on the table.

“Of course, sire.” But in her heart, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. “I made the deal in good faith.”

“We shall see what color your faith is tomorrow.” He nodded to Felan to approach. “Taryn will be the doe in tomorrow’s hunt.”

“What?” She must have misheard. They weren’t actually going to turn her into an animal. Were they?

“You are the prize to settle the dispute. A deer is the traditional animal.” The King smiled and it was all winter and knives.

“That’s barbaric. You can’t turn me into an animal and hunt me.” Could he? Did he have that much power that he could turn her into an animal?

“I can and I will. The decision is made.”

“But I’ll get hurt.” How could he think this was in anyway a good idea to settle this?

The King shrugged. “Such is the price to be paid.”

That was her part of the punishment. Her stomach twisted and turned to water. “What about our deal?” She’d been so close to having everything she wanted. Her father’s pardon, freedom from the King’s interest, and she’d fucked it all with one stupid dance. A dance she wanted to relive again and again.

He glared at her. “It can wait until after. I will not have the Hunter preying on what is mine.”

She bristled. She was no man’s property to be claimed and protected. “I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s.”

“You accepted a seat at my side, my hand for the dance. When the King of Annwyn extends you that honor, you do not bite that hand by then accepting the favor of the Hunter.” He leaned closer, the antlers dangerously close to her face, and lowered his voice. “Just because you weren’t in my bed doesn’t mean you weren’t fulfilling the role of mistress.” He leaned back in his seat. “And even if you win our little wager, that doesn’t mean you won’t continue fulfilling those duties until I am relieved of my crown.”

She’d expected there to be an edge of bitterness, but there was none. It sounded almost like relief. Was he just waiting for all this to be over? Then why continue the charade and put her through hell? She glanced at Felan. Because he wasn’t ready. He had no human wife and no heir. Damn them all. But if Annwyn fell, there would be no mortal world—at least not as she knew it.

Felan bowed. “Would you like me to help in any way?”

The King glanced at her. “Escort Lady Taryn to her chambers and confine her there until the hunt. I wouldn’t want the quarry slipping out of Annwyn.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then thought better of it. At least if she were in her room, she couldn’t get herself into any more trouble. As she left the hall on Felan’s arm, she gave it one final glance. A beautiful, alien party. No matter how hard she tried, she’d never fit in; she was a human in fairy skin.

“I’m going to die tomorrow.”

“No you won’t. One arrow wound won’t kill you.”

“You know this from experience?”

“I’ve witnessed a similar hunt before.”

Taryn raised her eyebrow. “Swear to me that you will make sure I live.”

“You will not die. If my father wanted you dead, he’d throw you in the river or simply exile you to await death with your parents.”

Her heart clenched. She had failed her parents; her father wouldn’t get his pardon and everything had been for nothing. She’d fallen for the one man who could destroy her and he had—not with hate, but love, and that hurt worst of all. “I was so close.”

“I know.” He voice was strained. “You still are. This is a small delay.”

It didn’t feel very small, and neither of them could afford the delay. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize when you don’t mean it.”

They walked up the stairs, the festival still going. People danced and the King sat alone at the table. The most powerful man alive in any world and he was also the loneliest. She glanced at Felan. Human women would fall over themselves to be with him, but would they want him if they knew what they were coming to and what was expected of them? When they realized Sulia wanted to get her claws into the Prince?