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We were airborne for what felt like forever before the jolt of the horse’s landing slammed through me.

Magic, Greyson’s by the sense of fierce defense, snapped closed behind us, shutting the icy presence out. I sagged against Kent in relief.

A futile shriek of frustration and impotent fury tore through my head, dragging terror back into my chest. I let go of Kent to cover my ears and almost fell off Blue as the horse wrenched around under Kent’s steady hand to face our pursuer, stomping his hooves in agitation.

A creature of cloth and bone thrashed about shrieking and wailing just beyond a spell barrier of twisted bars and vicious spikes which had formed only a dozen feet behind our now halted company. The creature appeared fixed on Kent, repeatedly lunging at the barrier in its attempts to reach him. It screamed at us in a way that scraped at my mind and set my teeth painfully on edge.

“That is a particularly nasty hunt binding,” Greyson commented as he approached our other side, drawing his horse to a much calmer halt next to Blue.

“I thought my mother had a curse on her, not me,” Kent commented.

Greyson’s expression didn’t change, but I sensed his mood shift from wariness to anger. “The Unseelie king did not set that hoary hunter on your trail.” Greyson’s eyes narrowed as he studied the creature. “That one has been bound to his task in a way that he must fulfill his task or die. I can only guess who did such a horrible thing to the poor fae. The binding appears to be decades old and has wasted the wretch down to skin and bones. It would seem your father and his men-at-arms are not the only ones searching for the heir to his throne.”

My stomach clenched in grief on behalf of the creature. “Is there no way to free it?” I asked.

Greyson’s grim tone was more of an answer than his words. “Only the one who bound it can free it.” He paused before adding, “You do realize it would kill you without a thought if you came between it and Kent?”

“Desperation tempts one to do some awful things,” I observed.

“And those of integrity resist.”

“If they can.” I doubted the husk of a creature flinging itself at the defense spell retained any will beyond the compulsion driving it to murder. “What happens to the creature now?” I turned to find the Dullahan watching me with a disturbing intensity.

“You do not want to know.”

“But I do,” I protested.

“Put it out of its misery, then,” Kent said gravely, and I turned my face away, closing my eyes.

“Come. My wife is expecting us.” Greyson spun his horse once more and rode off across the meadow toward the sprawling stand of trees at the top of a rise.

Rolling hills gave way to a stone wall hemming in a well-manicured lawn and neat hedges wound along a wide gravel drive. The building came into view between the trunks of mature trees.

Despite the granite facade, the many windows and graceful arches along the front gave the mansion an inviting appearance. Part of its appeal was the main entrance, an airy structure in the center of the rambling facade. We rode straight through the wide arches over the drive and into a light-filled space, equal parts interior and exterior.

Greyson didn’t even wait for his horse to stop before vaulting off. Settling a bewildered Mela on the stone terrace, he strode through the scattering welcome party toward the petite female at its center.

The blonde woman welcomed him with a delighted smile and didn’t protest as the much larger Dullahan swept her off her feet and into his arms, kissing her thoroughly.

The staff—an assortment of fae—moved around the pair as though this greeting were as commonplace as sweeping the floor. To my surprise, a general sense of pleasure came from the group at large, as though they approved of the public expressions of affection.

A faun with curly black hair and buff horns bowed to my muddied shoe. “Do you require assistance dismounting?”

Instinctively I wanted to say no, but I realized just in time that I did need help. I nodded. After I untangled myself from Kent’s cloak, the faun lifted me down.

The moment my feet touched the ground, the faun retreated with another respectful bow.

Kent jumped down beside me, but instead of moving away, he leaned closer, filling my senses with the scents of wood fire and leather, along with a soothing essence that was uniquely his.

“Stay close.”

Lifting my head, I glimpsed wariness in his expression before he straightened up and took a step back as Greyson approached, guiding the blonde woman toward us by the elbow.

“Lyra, this is the heir that we hoped for. Kent, this is my wife and the delight of my life, Lady Greyson.”

“They can call me Lyra,” Lady Greyson protested as she offered her gloved hand to Kent.

“Say what you will, love. Lady Lyra would be the most inappropriate I will tolerate for now.”