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“Thank you,” I whispered. “I feared he was attempting a persuasion spell when you arrived.”

“Moritz is an unsavory character.” Kent scanned my features. “Avoid him as much as possible.”

“And if I can’t?” I could feel the faun’s gaze following our progress away from him. I suspected he would not give up easily.

“I will speak with Greyson.” Kent’s gloved hand closed over the top of my fingers, squeezing gently as he drew me up short of our places. “I am serious, Rue. Don’t let him corner you.” The hard intensity of his gaze as he met my eyes matched the worry coiling around him.

“Understood,” I assured him.

Apparently, satisfied, Kent dropped his grip on my fingers and led me on. Upon reaching our places, he introduced me to Master Nerio, who rose to bow over my hand in the proper fashion, and then Kent drew out a chair for me to sit. Both men took their seats as well, and the meal began.

Kent

Despite the delectable array laid out before us, I lacked the appetite to enjoy it. Too much new information roiled through my brain. Chiefly, I had a rival, which meant I was going to have to fight for power that I wasn’t even certain I wanted.

Greyson had disclosed to me that the other contender was an imposter whom he had determined to be fake in the past. However, he had not made the evidence generally known for reasons I had yet to understand.

The contender’s lack of validity didn’t put my concerns to rest. Not that I didn’t trust Greyson to be correct in his assessment of the other fae’s claim. In the short time I had known the Dullahan, he had been beyond thorough in all of his actions. If Greyson said the fae was a pretender, I would wager a great deal that he was.

My concern was more for the temptation that the idea of an alternative offered me a way out. If I gave up my bid for the throne to him, what was the worst that could happen? According to Greyson, my stepping down would not preserve the safety of Mother or Rue. Mother and I would be watched for the rest of our lives on the off chance one of us changed our minds. And Rue would still live with the possibility that someone would grab her so they could control me.

No matter how I examined the situation, it appeared I was stuck. The best choice was to make a claim for the throne and the power I could use to guarantee my Mother, Rue, and Mela remained protected.

But what if the other fae’s claim proved true? What then? Would I share the power? Was that even possible? Or would we be forced to fight for the throne? My very nature revolted at the idea.

“Do you enjoy hunting, Master Kent?” Mistress Milana asked on my right.

Blinking, I attempted to reel in my attention. “Not particularly.”

“Have you not hunted before?” She delicately took a sip of her soup. “It is the most enthralling pastime. I only wish I had the means of joining the hunt more often. It so rarely ventures as far north as Pishla, but when it does, it is an exhilarating sight. All of those horses, creatures, plunging bodies, thudding hooves, and the frantic chase.” She gasped in delight with a fluttering of her free hand. “Don’t you just love the Wild Hunt?”

“I have never participated.” Gliding my spoon through the brothy soup, I searched for something of substance. “I have only hunted for survival, not for sport.”

“For food?” Her smooth brow puckered in confusion. “Why would one eat the catch? That seems extreme. Don’t you just release the quarry afterward?”

It was my turn to be confused. “What, pray tell, does the Wild Hunt pursue?”

“Humans mostly, occasionally criminals or traitors to the crown. None of whom sound tasty.” She glanced warily down the table to where Lady Lyra listened to my mother with a soft smile. “Besides, I would think that eating humans would be frowned upon now that our host has a pet human.”

I shuddered. “No, humans are not prey.”

“Ah, but they used to be.” Mistress Milana leaned close as though sharing a secret. “Not that long ago, there were rumors of plans to transport a whole crop of humans over the border for all kinds of purposes. Not for hunting, mind you, but other uses—slaves, grunts, potion testers, floor scrubbers, and the like. They have no natural defenses, you see, and they are remarkably susceptible to magic.” She glanced toward Lady Lyra again.

Revulsion overcame my efforts to guard my tongue. “That plan halted, I hope.”

Mistress Milana’s warmth cooled as she eyed me. “Of course,” she replied in a flat tone very at odds with her earlier enthusiasm. Then with a shake of her head, she turned her attention to her meal. “How did we take up this unseemly topic? How could you be so crass as to have suggested it?”

I didn’t bother to point out that she had been the one to bring it up first.

After eating for a few moments of silence, she spoke again. “Lady Lyra has outdone herself. This soup is delicious, and the decor is beautiful.”

“Both are pleasant,” I agreed.

Another stretch of silence passed. When she didn’t introduce another topic of conversation, I turned my attention to Rue on my other side. She appeared to be faring far better than me.

“Surely your mother listened to your advice,” Rue was saying as she folded her linen napkin in her lap. The bowl before her was empty, and Nerio’s had been mostly consumed. The servants converged on the table, removing the course and placing a fresh course before us—a serving of roast boar with spears of a vegetable I didn’t recognize artfully lying next to it on the plate. All of it was drenched in a savory-smelling sauce.

“She did in the end.” Nerio pressed his linen napkin to the corner of his mouth. “Any fool could see that my brother was innocent. The evidence was all over my sister’s face when we found her under the bed.”