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“They hunt humans?” My voice naturally grows louder, fueled by my disgust.
“And Low Fae. The treaty put a stop to them visiting Styrland, and they’d be in trouble if they were caught hunting anyone in Faerie, but that isn’t to say it hasn’t happened.” He sounds…bitter, even unhappy, and when I look down, I see the hand that was around me is now clutching the tree branch so tight there’s finger-shaped grooves in it.
“Then why in the hell did you reinstate it?” The chase has shaken my normal sense of reserve loose from me. Nearly dying will do that to a person. But I also think back to Ruskin’s nonchalance in the dining hall, his apparent boredom with it all as he granted permission. Where was this anger then? “I’ve seen how powerful you are. If you didn’t want to reinstate the Hunt—the Hunt that just nearly killed me, might I add—you could’ve just said no.”
And broken the neck of anyone who disagreed, I think, but don’t say it aloud. It’s not that I would want him to do that, but we both know he has no qualms about silencing those who dare oppose him.
Even with my little shimmy along the branch, we’re still pretty close, and I can see the smile that plays on his lips—beautiful, diverting lips—as he considers me.
“You know, you certainly speak very boldly for someone in the presence of royalty.”
I scoff, recognizing a deflection when I hear one. Still, he seems more amused than angry, and I wonder at the difference in his countenance compared to our last meeting. Perhaps it’s something about being out of the palace, away from the court he seems to dislike so intensely. Whatever the reason, the shift to a lighter tone makes me feel comfortable enough to be honest with my reaction.
“Please, as if that would deter me. It’s not like you’re the first royal who’s crossed my path—and neither one of you have done much to inspire my respect.”
I gave up being impressed by the idea of royalty when Albrecht’s decrees started starving half my village, but actually meeting him really cemented the disillusionment.
“Oh yes? And were you as impertinent with this other royal as you are with me?”
“Not to his face,” I admit. “But I did leave half a dozen of his men trapped under a pile of gold, and had you take care of a few more.” I bite my lip, still feeling a bit guilty about how roughly Ruskin dealt with them. They might have survived…but there was really no way for me to know. And they all would have been fine if it weren’t for me.
His eyes drop to my mouth, seeming to find something interesting there. I try to calm myself under his scrutiny. It’s easier when we keep talking.
“That was the king’s home I took you from?” His question is soft, like his mind is on other things.
“Yes,” I say, amazed he didn’t know. “Didn’t you recognize the castle?”
“I wasn’t really paying that close attention,” he says, dragging his eyes away from my face and studying the leaves in front of him. I’m a bit relieved to have his focus elsewhere. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck as he watched me.
“Well, that’s obvious,” I say. “You never even asked me what you were saving me from. And I use ‘save’ very loosely there,” I add, narrowing my eyes at him, not willing to let him forget I’m very much here against my will.
“The men in uniform gave me some idea. I assumed they were trying to execute you for a paltry crime. Theft, probably.”
“Excuse you! I’m not a thief.”
He looks surprised at the vehemence of my reaction.
“My apologies,” he says, and sounds so genuine I’m pulled up short for a moment.
“Thank you. They were actually going to drag me back to marry him.”
His head turns so fast I’m sure he must’ve given himself a crick.
“But your parents were just peasants, weren’t they? What would you be doing marrying a king?”
“My mother was a healer, and my father is a fisherman,” I clarify, trying not to be offended by how lowly he makes us sound. What he says is technically true. “When Albrecht learned that I could make gold, he decided he just had to have me all to himself, regardless of how low born I am.” I make a retching motion to be clear just how little I think of this idea.
Something flares in Ruskin’s eyes, a dangerous thing I can’t name, but I know I saw it before at the garden party, when he looked down at me all scratched and dirty in the mud…right before he killed Galaphina.
“I’m glad I took you away from there,” he says, and the roughness of his voice sends an increasingly familiar shiver down my spine.
That’s the thing with the fae, though. Because they cannot lie, they make sure so much that they express stays ambiguous. I know he intends me to think he’s glad he saved me from that lecherous bastard Albrecht, but he could easily not care a whit. His gladness could simply be down to the fact that he’s got me working for him now, rather than some human ruler benefitting from my talents. The reminder sharpens my mind.
“Why are you hiding up here?” I ask coolly. “Why not stop the Hunt in their big, murderous tracks? I know you can.”
Just like that, I see the mask slide back into place. He’d not yet pulled out the Unseelie features, the teeth and horns, but his face shutters, blocking out whatever sincerity seemed to shine through a moment before.
“It’s more complicated than you understand, Eleanor Thorn.” He’s back to examining the leaves. “I have my reasons.”
