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He stiffens behind me for a moment.
“It has more to do with Cebba than the High Queen.”
I twist to try to get a look at his face, wondering if this name should mean something to me.
“You haven’t yet heard of my sister?” He quirks his brow, looking suddenly playful. “My, the palace gossip mill isn’t what it used to be.”
“I didn’t know her name,” I say, straightening up and turning back round. “But I’ve heard a bit, yes.”
“You probably know more than a bit, considering the rate at which you ask questions.”
“Excuse me for having an inquiring mind,” I throw back.
“Is that what you call it?” He chuckles quietly and I can feel the vibrations in his chest. It reminds me of him laughing last night at the idea of me on my knees in front of him.
No. I tell myself. Don’t go there.
“So go on, then,” I prompt, annoyed that I’m proving his point, but badly wanting to hear the rest. “What’s it got to do with Cebba?”
“Cebba was good friends with Rivera and that crowd.”
“She was part of the Hunt?”
“She practically founded it—loved to spend her days roaming this forest. Most of the Low Fae still know better than to stray into the north-eastern parts. That was her prime hunting ground. She built a lodge there and the place is still littered with her old traps.”
“Traps?”
“Magic, dangerous animals. She populated the area with them to make the hunt more ‘interesting.’”
We’ve reached the edge of the forest now and slip in between the vivid green of the trees. I look around me and feel a pang of dread, imagining what this place would be like if someone deliberately adapted it to make even more dangerous than it already is. The thought stays with me and for a while we travel in companiable silence, letting the sounds of the forest wash over us.
Eventually he stops the horse, eyes focused on a spot ahead of us.
“Stay put,” he says, dismounting. I don’t bother pointing out that I probably couldn’t get down from this height without help anyway.
He goes to crouch beside the area he was eyeing. It looks like just another patch of forest floor covered with fallen leaves to me, but as I crouch down to watch him, I see his pupils sharpen into their Unseelie form as he lays his hand on it. There’s a shifting of earth and the leaves tumble aside, revealing the shape of a huge paw print, twice the size of Ruskin’s hand.
I swallow at the sight of it. “We’re tracking something that big?”
“Oh yes,” he says, looking up at me. “Still glad you came?”
I ignore the question. “How did you know it was there?”
“The Unseelie blood comes with a few advantages,” he says. “This animal is violent to the point of being a danger to itself. It’s wounded, probably from some fight with another creature. That means I can see the scent of its blood on its tracks.”
“You can see the scent?” I clarify.
He gives me a smile with his pointed teeth. “Like I said. Unseelie.”
He stands in a beautifully fluid movement. “We’re on the right path. Let’s keep going.”
Now, seeing the size of the print, I’m not sure I need these plants so urgently after all.
Chapter 19
“This looks like a likely candidate.”
Our horse snorts and bucks its head a few times, making Ruskin move forward, leaning around me to soothe it. The warmth of his breath ghosts past the side of my face. I close my eyes, wondering why I’ve decided to torture myself like this.
