Lord of the Hunt (5 page)

“You invited her to get the pardon for you.”

“You are out of questions, Hunter. Unless you want to press your luck again?” There was a predatory glint that suggested that should Verden try he would lose, and there were questions he didn’t want to answer.

It was enough that the Prince had confirmed what he’d pieced together and admitted to owing Chalmer a favor.

The Prince stood. “We’ll play again soon. Perhaps you can tell me why you ask about her?”

Verden gave him an empty smile. “Anyone coming to Annwyn and catching the King’s eye is my concern.”

Surprise flickered on Felan’s features but was quickly hidden. “She is only twenty-one mortal years. Don’t let her fall prey to the Court.” Felan placed his hand on Verden’s shoulder and leaned down. “No one wants a cold winter.” Then he moved on as if he hadn’t shared anything of importance.

Verden eased back in his chair with practiced relaxation, and tried to look as bored as possible. Today it was all fake. Did Taryn have any idea how important the pardon was? There was far more than saving her father’s life at stake, and more reasons to make sure that she did everything to succeed. In this he could serve Felan and Taryn with a clear conscience, although he had yet to decide how best to serve.

A gaggle of the Queen’s Ladies strolled past him, several glancing his way with careful smiles on their lips. Most were harmless. Rhodia and Sulia were the ones to watch—Sulia especially. If he danced with her, he always checked he had all his fingers afterward. He smiled and inclined his head, hoping none of the women would take it as an invitation to join him.

Now if Taryn were to sit with him, he would have enjoyed her company some more, but it didn’t pay to be seen with one person too much of the time. That was how rumors started, and rumors had a way of coming true and creating problems.

Some of his thoughts of Taryn must have shown in his eyes as Rhodia broke away from the group.

“You sit alone, Hunter.”

And he had been enjoying those few moments to tumble ideas around. “I do, but I see you are here to save me from myself.”

She laughed and he gritted his teeth. He knew her end game; Rhodia wanted a husband with power and thought he’d make a good match. Would she still feel the same after the power shift, when he no longer had the rank of Hunter?

Maybe she thought he’d climb again. Maybe he would. He didn’t know. Until Gwyn gave up the throne or Felan pushed him out of it, Verden was in limbo. The Hunter of a dying Court.

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.”