A gift for the hunt tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you wear it.
No name, but whoever wrote it knew she could read, and it was written in English, with a steady hand—an educated script that looked like something that had been commonplace a hundred years ago. Someone at Court knew more about the mortal world than they were letting on. The King?
She touched the fabric; it had the feel of velvet but was much lighter. It felt expensive.
Maybe, but she doubted he’d learned to read or write after coming to power. Felan? But why would he leave her a gift? They were already allies—or were they? She’d believed what he’d said, taken his words as truth without looking deeper. Had he mislead her for his own purpose? Was he making a point after seeing her with Verden? She scrunched up the note. In leaving Annwyn with Verden, she’d gone against Felan’s orders. And yet he’d done nothing. Said nothing and he could have. He could have told his father.
She looked at the dress. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d written the note for his father.
Maybe.
Although Felan had nothing to gain by telling the King. He wanted her father back at Annwyn; helping her was the only way to achieve that. She drew in a breath. She didn’t have many options.
If she didn’t wear it, she’d be insulting whoever had left if for her, and if she wore it without knowing who’d left the gift, she could be getting herself into more trouble. She was almost hoping the King had given her the dress and jewel; that would be the simplest answer, even if she didn’t like the unspoken question.
If he was giving her a dress, was he expecting to help her out of it later?
Chapter 12
Arranging a hunt was relatively simple. Tell the shadows to prepare a picnic. Check and prepare weapons; then check the numbers of animals. A few deer, and some smaller game and birds were always kept in Annwyn for hunting. He kept the supply stable—neither too little, or the animals would suffer from lack of companionship, nor too many that they would breed and become a problem. Some were animals that had accidentally crossed the veil and decided to stay; others had deliberately been brought across. Either way, they were his responsibility.
There was only one simple rule when bringing animals to Annwyn: once they’d eaten here or drank from the river, they could never go back across the veil. Annwyn changed them. It changed everyone who lived here. He could see that now. He saw how different Taryn was to the other fairies, to him. He was no different to animals brought here for sport, trapped until his usefulness had run out. He swallowed. Hopefully he wouldn’t find an arrow in his heart or a sword at his throat.
For today he’d acquired more deer, including a couple of impressive stags. Once turned loose, he had no idea where they’d run. Many years ago, the Court would’ve hunted in the mortal world, but these days those hunts were restricted. There were too few true wilds and too many humans.
Fairy horses—animals that had once been mortal horses—came to his whistle. White hounds chased each other across the grass, tumbling and yipping with excitement. Expectation was in the air. Usually he would be thrilled to hunt; his blood would be pumping with primitive desire. He imagined that was what it would feel like to be free all the time, that the forests were his to roam, and that he was a wild fae. Did the fairies of Annwyn even realize what they’d given by breaking their ties with the mortal world and nature?
Probably not. They probably didn’t even see the gilded cage they were in. If not for Taryn, he wouldn’t have noticed even as the bars pressed against him.
He lifted his face to the sun and glanced around. Nothing seemed amiss…and yet…today something was off. Missing. He didn’t know what.
He’d checked everything, been working since dawn had lightened the sky from velvety purple to pale blue, checked everything again, and still he couldn’t displace the sense of wrongness around him. As the Lords and Ladies arrived—not all of them, just the ones held in the highest regard—he tried to ignore it. There was nothing he could do but smile and do his job. Failing wouldn’t earn him any favors, and it was clear he would need some sooner rather than later. Now Felan knew he was having an affair with Taryn, the Prince could use it against him.
He bit back the sigh. He needed a new game, but he was too tired of plotting and scheming to stay at the head of the pack. The stolen moments with Taryn in the mortal world made him ache for something simpler, something he’d thought he’d left behind long ago. Yet it was out of reach as long as he was Hunter and she needed to get her father’s pardon.
Taryn arrived looking every bit the Lady, dressed in red with rubies at her throat. She was almost dressed too well. The ill feeling in his stomach grew and festered. He held the horse for her as she mounted, the way he would for any Lady not being escorted by her current Lord or lover, his hand lingering on hers for a fraction longer than necessary.
“You look luscious.” He wanted to peel the fabric from her body kiss by kiss and savor the taste as if she were an exotic fruit not usually seen in Annwyn.
Her gaze fixed on his face for a moment. “The dress was a gift.”
“Gwyn?” He touched her knee for the merest of moments and felt the delicate fabric. An expensive dress that few could have afforded.
She nodded. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her eyes were wide, like a startled doe.
“One of us has to smile. It had better be you.” He almost choked on the words even though they were true.
“Once my parents are back—”
“One bridge at a time.” He’d once imagined his parents would be thrilled to be invited to Court, yet when he’d proved himself and invited them, they had refused. Not for them. But he knew Taryn’s parents, and he understood her love for them. Whatever it took. He glanced up at her again; she didn’t look like she could do it.
Annwyn made people make hard choices. Sometimes there wasn’t a win, only less of a fail. What would she hate more, backing out at the last moment and condemning her parents or falling into the King’s bed?
It wasn’t a choice he envied nor one he could make for her. Or one he wanted to think about. He battled to keep his hand from curling into a fist and dragging the King into a fight. That would end badly, so he forced calm. They would hunt and enjoy the day. Tonight, tonight he wanted to be taking her back across the veil instead of lying in bed alone and wondering what she was doing.
“I propose two teams,” the Queen called out, drawing all attention to herself. She wore blue, a color that was fast becoming yesterday’s favorite. He noted many of the women in shades of pink, from darkest puce to palest sunrise. Felan was wearing purple, as was the King, as was appropriate on a formal hunt.
Verden always played it safe and stuck to neutral greens and browns. No one ever wore them and it meant he never picked a side with just his clothes. He looked at Gwyn, astride his horse, for confirmation. Verden didn’t want to be obeying the woman who was slowly destroying Annwyn out of spite. Teams—that complicated things and made his job harder, plus he wouldn’t get to hunt. No doubt that was deliberate; the Queen really hated him now. The King nodded.
“Very well. Who shall lead, my Lady, since you proposed the idea?” There was no way he was stepping into that trap willingly. The bitch Queen was making trouble on what should have been a relaxed day of riding and talking and drinking. And he didn’t know what trouble she was planning. Did Gwyn?
Eyra paused as if considering, but Verden was sure she knew already. He’d bet his life on that.
“Lords verses Ladies.” She grinned, but there was no humor in it. It was cold and calculated.
Verden let the tension in his shoulders ease a little; at least Taryn wouldn’t be riding with the King, but maybe that was the Queen’s plan. She was making the point that she could keep Taryn away from the King; she could keep all the Ladies away from the King. He briefly wondered if she could stop all the Ladies from bedding their lovers. That would certainly make for an edgy Court.