We are a group of about two hundred and fifty, usually living in the mountains or the forest for a couple of years before moving on. Amongst us are people from all the different kingdoms, some mortals, some immortals. We all have our reasons for being here, but your past is forgotten the moment you arrive.
To become a Shadow Hunter is to be given a second chance at life.
It was a warm summer like this one, many years ago now, that I came here with nothing but my brother, a body full of scars and a secret I can never reveal. And it's almost fifteen months to the day since I became Commander by killing the previous one in a duel, and I like to imagine I'm a good leader. My temper may be unpredictable, but I've led this deadly group of assassins through many seasons and battles without complaint.
I've befriended Holn and Hela, the King and Queen of Mountains, and Espan, the Golden King. They regularly require our help clearing their borders of evil creatures, and we've amassed a fair amount of wealth because of it, contrary to most peoples' view of us as poverty-stricken criminals. As it transpires, we're rich criminals.
Anna and Onyx knock on the door of my tiny wooden treehouse that evening, distracting me from the letters I'd received while away. Alongside killing men triple my size, my job comes with a surprising amount of paperwork. Every season, we sign a contract, usually several months long, with one of the kingdoms.
I've never signed one with the River Folk, because approximately ninety percent of them annoy me, nor have I ever signed one with the Forest Kingdom because their army is almost exactly thirty-six times the size of mine. Translation—they don't need the help.
I've also been told by King Espan that I should avoid the Forest King because, and I quote, 'he's easily antagonised and you, Renna, are an antagoniser'. Espan rules the Kingdom of Fields, Deserts and Plains, but that’s an absolute mouthful to say so we just shorten it to the Golden Kingdom.
"Come in," I mutter, after they'd already let themselves in and flopped onto my bed anyway. "Fucking take your shoes off if you're on my bed!” I yank Annaliya off the mattress and she hits the rickety floor with an alarming thud. She’s indestructible though, like I am.
"I missed you!" She sings, throwing her arms around me. I laugh, subjecting myself to her sloppy kisses all over my face as we fall over from our sitting position onto the muddy wooden floor, howling with laughter when an ungodly snort comes out of Anna's nose. Onyx just shakes his head, exasperated.
Anna, Stellan and Onyx are all of Evergreen blood. Anna came here from the City of the Sea when she was one hundred years old, onlyjustan adult, and Stellan's past is a complicated story. He lost his wife and son centuries ago, and he has no plan of ever finding love again. He was, is, and always will be besotted with her.
Evergreen people are considered adults at about ninety years old; they have a long and slow childhood and live forever. You can tell them apart quite easily, they stand taller than the rest of us, and their eyes are unnaturally bright.
I hear and feel heavy footsteps, and Stellan ventures in, bending his six-foot-five frame to fit in my half-broken doorway, his pale green eyes glowing. Tattoos decorate his brown skin, delicate swirls like smoke rising from his wrists, up his arms and over his shoulders and chest. His shoulder-length brown-black hair is usually up in a messy bun, the sides cut short to display the tattoos beneath his hair. Tattoos only last a few months on Evergreens, but the bastard spends half his money getting them re-done twice a year.
“Please do come in, Stellan. I cannot even remember the last time I had a moment of privacy.” I'm ranting as I sit up. A dry, dusty leaf is stuck in my hair, a reminder I need to clean the floor of my treehouse. Gods above, I need to get it together.
"You're not in a good mood," observes Onyx, usefully. He picks up a letter and squints at it.
"It's upside down, Onyx. Do you know how much easier my life would be if one of you would learn to read?" I say, glaring at my three deputies who all look sheepish, shooting glances at each other that sayhelp me.
"I'm trying!" Defends Stellan, breaking the silence and throwing his apple core at my head. I launch it right back at him with lethal force, but he deflects it with a bruised fist, hitting Annaliya square in the forehead with it. She shrieks like a banshee, tackling him to the floor. I dive onto them both, gritting my teeth as I pin Stellan down so Anna can tickle him.
"Oh my gods," mutters Onyx. "This has to be some kind of nightmare. What has my life become? Ren,youwere the one that called us in here."
"Shit, did I? I did." I have too much on. I get up, the four of us sitting cross-legged on my single bed as Stellan taps a small wooden keg. Say what you want about the Forest Kingdom and their cantankerous king, but their ale and wine are second to none.
We start going through some paperwork, sorting letters and reading them aloud. Not many of my Shadow Hunters can read or write; they have no need to. I'm trying to teach some but none of them can sit still on a chair for longer than sixty seconds. As the orange sun sinks lower, caressing us with the last of her warmth, we finish planning the season ahead and Onyx leaves to go hunting.
* * *
"Areyou excited to meet the Forest King?" Anna asks me, her voice a hushed whisper early the next morning as we lie undressed on either side of a sleeping Stellan. Cold air ruffles the leaves around us and waltzes through the open doorway. It kisses my cheeks and shoulders, but it's warm under the blankets.
I live for mornings like this.
My army has two little villages of houses. One is a small collection of tents and huts in the mountains, the other a collection of treehouses in a small copse near the Green Woodland. My treehouse is tiny, like the rest of the hunters’ ones. I’d like to say that’s because I’m a humble leader who puts themselves on the same level as their people, but truly they’re just a pain in the arse to build.
Still, this little box high in the canopy of an ancient oak is the closest thing I have to a home. And I suspect it’s the closest thing I’lleverhave to a home, even if that sounds pessimistic. All of us here have no home—not in a conventional way, anyway. We’ve found a sense of home in each other. That’s enough for me, usually, but occasionally there’s an ache in my chest, a yearning to know what it feels like to belong somewhere.
Anna is looking at me expectantly and I remember her question. “No. Why would I be?"
"Because he is huge, Renna, andbeautiful!" She squeaks, enunciating each syllable slowly as if I were a small child. Anna has been obsessed with the Forest King since I met her. There’s a terrible drawing of him in her notebook. It's tragic, I know, but she's seen me cry over eating a biscuit and forgetting I ate it, so I hold my tongue.
"I heard he's an arsehole."
"Well, I heard he's absolutely beautiful!" She repeats, her life-long obsession with King Whateverhisnameis still going as strong as ever.
"Well, I heard he's an arsehole."
"You two are so young,” mumbles Stellan, waking up and folding a huge arm beneath his head. Pale green eyes peek out from black lashes. "I've met him before—well, I've seen him."
