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The horn blasts again, and a hush falls. Nothing but the shifting ténesomni with the pinpricks of bioluminescence lies before us until a ray of light slices between the towering torsos of the trees. A greedy roar rises from the people.
Out of the gloom, the mighty men of Sola Vinari materialize, highlighted by the tremendous skull of a strange sola creature strapped to my father’s back. Each man stoops, shouldering loads of flesh and bone and sloshing waterskins filled to bursting with iridescent blood. It looks as though not one cut of the animal has been left behind.
The hunters’ return parts the crowd like the prow of a ship with my father at the helm. Valefolk slap the backs of the hunters and congratulate each other as if they have vanquished a thousand deadly foes instead of a single creature. As I look at the remains of the sola, the bubble of anticipation in my chest deflates. In the end, it’s just an animal like any other. The most I can say about this one is that its skull is big. And bright.
The infectious conduct of my companions swallows my disappointment. Flip was right. The fun is just getting started, and I might as well give myself to it. I’m not surprised to find Rhun in the mix. Always the comedian of the group, he climbs onto someone’s shoulders and shouts bombastic challenges at any bystander that dares glance his way. Some people are affronted, but most choose to excuse his youthful mischief, barely withholding their own chortles. I can’t help but laugh. He has a likable way about him, even if he’s being a buffoon.
My other friends, I realize with a nagging sensation, are getting a little carried away, especially when it comes to the girls that tend to follow us around like starved canines.
My own shadow has materialized at my side, like she always does. Ketra leans into me, laughing in a way that tells me she’s not quite there. Her blond locks are professionally arranged tonight, and her dainty features are outlined with skillful strokes.
Rhun points at us and whistles suggestively, and the group around us hoots with delight. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but tonight it chafes me coming from my brother. He’s only fifteen.
Ketra waggles her eyebrows and pecks me on the cheek. I am not a stranger to her charms, and I know most of the guys here would jump at the chance to be in her company. But at this moment, I think with mild surprise, I don’t find her the least bit attractive.
Oblivious to my thoughts, she leans in closer and thrusts a sticky flask into my hands.
“Where have you been, Bel? You look like you could use a drink,” she purrs. “Have some of mine.”
I take one appraising sniff but hand it back. It isn’t appealing, and I’m not eager to give her leverage over me at the moment.
Ketra pouts dramatically, frowning up at me with playful annoyance. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to enjoy yourself? Itisa party, after all.” She traces my arm with a finger, a coy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Disgust builds like bile in the back of my throat as I shake my head. “I’m not interested.”
“Oh, come on. Have a little fun.”
I brush her hand aside and direct my attention, instead, to the progression of the hunting party. She pushes her body into my side, shamelessly attempting to force me to acknowledge her. Heat crawls up my core.
“Not now, Ketra,” I say through a clenched jaw.
Her demeanor flips instantly. She pulls back like I’ve burned her. “Fine. If that’s how you’ll treat me, I’ll gladly find someone who isn’t a complete prude.”
When she vanishes into the crowd, all I feel is relief.
With difficulty, I make it closer to the cleared path in front of the hunters. I stop short when I perceive a lone, feminine figure standing before them. The glare of the sola skull throws her into silhouette.
“What have you done with him?” the shadow cries, her voice like a twanging of her heart.
The pull of familiarity hitches my brow. I move through the crowd, apologizing as I go, until I can see her. I recognize that homely wardrobe, that unbound hair.
I glance at my father. The austere man does not look at her as one would expect, with pity or forbearance because of her size or sex. His face is devoid of emotion, almost predatory. If he wasn’t my own father, I would feel compelled to place myself between him and the girl. But he’s my flesh and blood, a man I fear more than any other. I am well acquainted with the subtle clench of his jaw, the flexing of his hands at his sides.
But this time, his cruelty comes in the snap of his words. “We bound him and left him at the site of the kill.”
A mortally wounded animal could not make such a feral sound of pure anguish. The girl wheels round and darts between the bodies, but not before I glimpse her fair face and those clear eyes.
I bolt after her.
It isn’t hard to follow her trail through the mass of affronted people, but that changes when I reach the forest. Dirt sprays as I skid to a halt, the lantern at my side almost extinguished from the whiplash. My breaths are labored, whether from exertion or rage at my father, I do not know. I shake my head, willing myself to shelve the panic his cruelty has stirred up within me.
The girl. Which way has she gone? My eyes scan the darkness, but there’s no sign of her. A shiver runs through me. Does the ténesomni feel thicker than normal? I untie the lantern and hold it out, but it doesn’t help. It can’t cut through the sable mists. I curse and thump a fist on a tree trunk, the bark scraping my knuckles.
“Consider your actions carefully, Belwyn.”
The low voice makes me jump. I spin around to find the tall frame of one of my father’s most-trusted men barely illuminated in the glow of my lantern. My shock gives way to anger.
“What are you doing here, Krandel?” I huff, fighting to remain in control of my emotions. “Did my father send you to fetch me, like a trained hound?”
