AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He’d been focused and alert when we were in the sanctuary, but now he speaks of Zastel as if he couldn’t care less whether the man lived or died. In fact, he sounds positively bored.
“But my Lord,” the older fae says, “what can we do?”
Ruskin leans back in his chair as if considering this, arching his fingers across his stomach.
“Don’t be a halfwit and go riding in the Emerald Forest alone?”
My jaw drops at the callousness of the answer, but there’s some titters from around the dining hall. Obviously, the Seelie Court are used to this kind of response.
“You must acknowledge, Your Highness, that this is not the first attack. These feral animals are appearing more often.” I look to see who has spoken and meet the piercing gaze of Lady Rivera.
Ruskin smiles. It isn’t friendly.
“That could be a matter of perception, Lady Rivera.”
She returns his smile, and I’m put in mind of two wolves vying for dominance over a pack.
“Of course, my Lord.” She inclines her head in agreement and Ruskin returns to his food, as if the conversation is done.
“But if I may…” Lady Rivera continues.
I’m close enough to watch Ruskin’s nails lengthen, sharpening into the curved claws I’m growing increasingly familiar with. They dig into the table and he drags them backwards across the wood so the screeching noise rings through the hall.
Lady Rivera’s smile disappears. Only then does Ruskin answer, “You may.”
The redhead takes a deep breath before she speaks. It makes me think that despite her posturing she’s afraid and trying to tread carefully.
“Perhaps we could re-form the Wild Hunt. It seems there may be need of it during these times. We could track down this unicorn, for example, before it can do more harm.”
“Oh yes, the Wild Hunt,” says a small, wiry man with excitement. “Such good times. Could we not reinstate it, My Lord? Please?”
“The Wild Hunt was discontinued for good reason.”
Ruskin is examining his claws now, using a knife to pick any splinters of wood out from under them.
“But those were different times, Your Highness,” says the wiry man. “Surely?—”
The prince lets out a grunt of annoyance that immediately silences the other man.
There’s a pause, then Ruskin speaks again, sounding utterly weary of the whole conversation.
“I suppose if it will stop your complaining, then you may bring back the Hunt.”
Lady Rivera and the wiry man are not the only ones who smile and shift in their seats with pleasure. At least a dozen fae seem to like this idea, nodding away or lightly clapping their long, elegant hands. The noise level of the hall raises a few decibels as fae turn to their neighbors to discuss this development.
There’s a bang and I turn to see that Ruskin has stabbed the knife he was holding into the table’s surface. The chatter cuts out in an instant, and all eyes are on him once more.
“But for those who join the Hunt, remember, the treaty still stands. Anyone seeking to break it should be aware of the consequences.”
After this proclamation he gets up to go, and I’m forced to down the last mouthful of my food and hurry after him. I glance back to see the knife still upright, embedded in the table for all to see.
God, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be in this world of mauled men and bone-snapping trees and knives in tables. These fae breathe this stuff, their magic and strength affording them a chance to dance with death like it’s just a game, but I’m not built for it. I want to go home. Back to my cottage, where Dad has probably been sitting vigil, waiting for me, or else drowning his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle. Back to Sanna and her noisy siblings. Right now, even the thought of seeing silly, arrogant Thatch is welcome. As long as I’m there, in my village. In my home. Anything but here.
Ruskin strides down the corridor like a man possessed. I think he’s forgotten I’m there. I can only assume that Halima is lurking nearby, never far from the prince, but I’m forced to stumble after his long steps. He may have two sides to him, but the darkness of one side easily overshadows the other, and I see how his volatile character only feeds this court. Who ruins a whole table to make a point, for goodness’ sake, or scratches up a wall? I contemplate my next move. If I cannot reach Maidar at the Unseelie Court, nor the gate to Styrland, without fae help—and I’m fairly certain that without fae help, I’ll end up a unicorn pin cushion or worse—then perhaps I have to consider the impossible.
To get out of this nightmare, I might have to do what Ruskin asks.
At the very least, I have to try.
