“Perhaps, but then you would owe me a favor.” There was an edge in Sulia’s voice this time. As if she wanted Taryn to be indebted. She hoped she never had to cross the veil with Sulia. Owing her favors would be far too dangerous.
She listened to the chatter around her, the rustling of the trees now more gold than green. She breathed in and tried to find peace. She was in the forests of Annwyn, surrounded by beauty, and all she could think of was the danger, the hidden claws and teeth of the women around her and the plotting of the Queen.
Taryn glanced at Sulia and decided risking another conversation would be worth it. “If the Ladies win the hunt, do we really get to choose who ever we want?”
“Got someone in mind after all?”
Taryn shook her head. “I like to know how these things work in advance, so I have time to think.”
“A wise thought. If we win, the Queen will choose first, then me, then she will dictate the order. Most will choose their husband or their lover, depending on their mood. The rest of us will choose the person we favor or would like a favor from.” Sulia stared at her. “Who will you choose?”
The only man she wanted was as out of reach as the moon while they were in Annwyn. She couldn’t pick Verden no matter how much she’d like to, but she probably wouldn’t even get the chance. “I don’t know. I don’t know anyone well enough…besides I would be the last to choose.”
“We won’t take all the good ones,” Sulia promised
Taryn didn’t believe her for a second. Verden would be snapped up by Rhodia; her eyes never left him when he walked in the room. On the other hand, it might also mean she’d be free of the King’s attention. “Who will you choose?”
“The Prince of course.” Sulia directed her horse to the left. “Look.” Sulia pointed up at a hawk that was circling above the trees. “We have to win this hunt.”
Yes they did. If the Lords won, she was sure the King would choose her and that wouldn’t sit well with anyone. She urged her horse after Sulia and hoped the hawks would bring in enough kills, while hoping the men missed their targets and caught no deer.
Breathless and with the Queen convinced of their win, Taryn and the other Ladies made their way back to the clearing where they’d started. They had a selection of small game. Was it enough? Only if the men failed to catch anything. Taryn bit her tongue so she didn’t actually state the obvious and find herself on the receiving end of the Queen’s temper. Really, what were the odds the King would get a deer? Human hunters failed and they had guns; all the King and his Lords had were bows and swords and hounds. Added to that was the realization that by the time the choosing got to her, there would be less politics. Taryn was feeling happier than she had been in a few mortal days—ever since the incident in Yosemite.
While they’d been hunting, the clearing where they had started from had been transformed. Cushions in every color were spread on the grass. Shadows lingered at the edges, armed with trays of food and drink. On the other side was the King—a stag at his feet.
Taryn’s stomach hollowed as if punched. The men had a kill and a far more impressive one than their collection. For a moment she thought she might throw up, but she swallowed and kept her composure.
“A thousand plagues on him,” the Queen snarled and got off her horse. While her eyes glittered with rage, her lips were curved in a smile—a rather feral smile that made Taryn think of a wolf closing in on a kill.
“Shall we let the Lord of the Hunt decide, my love?” The King bowed to the Queen, but he was also smiling. Cold and just as dangerous. Taryn wanted to slip away and be forgotten.
The Queen gave a tight-lipped nod and everyone dismounted. Verden dismissed the horses, hawks, and all but two of the hounds that were his right to have in attendance. Then he made a show of inspecting the kills. His jaw was tight and there was no joy in his eyes. She knew exactly how he felt. This was all bad and getting steadily worse.
Verden faced the King and Queen. “A close contest.” He inclined his head. “But I think that felling a stag in his prime is a grander feat. The hunt goes to the Lords.”
People clapped; there was some jostling and laughter amongst the men. No doubt they had already worked out who they were picking. This was beginning to feel like being picked for a sports team at school. Those with power or perceived status would be picked first; those without would be left to the end. This whole thing was a popularity contest. While they hunted and picnicked, people died and plague spread.
She wanted to scream.
Instead, she smiled blandly. Her gaze was on Verden like everyone else’s, but he didn’t look at her. He was working, and it was far too public for him to even casually glance her way when he was being watched by so many.
The King smiled and clasped Verden on the shoulder. “You sat out and judged a well-organized hunt; as reward, I shall give you my first pick and go second.”
Another round of claps, only this time Taryn saw through the supposedly kind gesture. Judging from the tension in Verden’s stance, so did he.
He turned slowly, as if pondering whom to choose as his partner for the midsummer dance. His gaze locked with hers for a second. Her heart swelled with hope even though she knew it wouldn’t happen. She hoped he’d break rank and choose her, say “damn you all and screw your petty rules and manners.” He wanted to—she could see it in his eyes, but she could also see the way he was so tightly bound to the Court; he wouldn’t step out of line without choking himself on the bonds. He would do as required.
“With your permission, the Queen.” Verden’s voice was flat, as if the prospect gave him no joy, yet he said it with a smile and took her hand with grace. He had behaved exactly as the King had wanted. The Queen couldn’t feel slighted, as she was picked first, and the King was now free to choose.
This was all so wrong. While she’d never fainted in her life, she was sure this was what it would feel like. The world was closing in and trapping her; she couldn’t breathe; she wanted to run to the nearest doorway, cross the veil, and never come back. Then the King was lifting her hand to his lips and she was smiling like a trained monkey.
This was not her life. This would not be her life.
It would end today. The King had picked her, fine, but he would bring her parents back or she would not dance with him. She would refuse to take this any further. And when he pardoned her father and expected more from her? She really hoped Felan had been telling the truth and that the King was acting for show and nothing more. The bundle of knots in her stomach didn’t ease and neither did the feeling that she was wading out past her depth and about to get caught in a riptide.
After the choices were made, everyone sat and conversation bubbled around her. Sulia hadn’t gotten the Prince. Felan had instead chosen a lesser-ranked woman, Dylis, who was rumored to be sharing his bed and spending too much time in the mortal world for her to be very popular. The only reason she’d been invited was because of her relationship to Felan. Some suspected she was working for him, others that she was using him to keep status at Court while she played in the mortal world. Either way, she wasn’t popular with the Queen’s Ladies because she wasn’t doing as she was told.
Sulia was looking peeved, and the Queen looked murderous, as usual. Verden looked like he could do with a stiff drink or three, and Taryn would be tempted to join him. She took another glass of wine. They called it wine, yet she had never gotten the least bit tipsy off it. Getting drunk would probably break all kind of rules…maybe she should slip some vodka into their drinks at midsummer and see what happened. She managed to swallow the laugh that caught in her throat but couldn’t hide the true grin.