The King watched her leave. “You let her win, Verden. I am disappointed you fell for her play.”
“I didn’t see her game.” He hadn’t seen anything except Taryn.
“You let yourself be blinded.”
“So demote me now and be done with it.” He wanted this over. He didn’t want to have to go through with this. Couldn’t they just pick up swords and fight to first blood or something equally civilized? This was a throwback to old law, ancient law so lost in time he’d only heard whisperings of it happening. The Court needed to start writing down laws.
“I don’t want to strip you of your rank even though you betrayed me. That will come soon enough.” He glanced at Felan, who kept his face almost blank. The thin press of his lips was all that gave away his concern. “I want you to know what it feels like to be damned no matter what choice you make.”
He wanted her, wanted to prove to the King she was his. Yet he knew Taryn wouldn’t want that. She needed him to fail, so she could finish what she’d started. Plus he knew if he shot her, he’d never be able to look her in the eye again. He’d been up all night trying to work out what to do. The only viable option was for him to throw the hunt. The King would save face and everything would go on for a little while at least.
“Was there not another way to settle this?”
The King looked at him. “I still rule. Maybe you forget that. Maybe I let you have too much freedom because I trusted you too much.”
“I have never betrayed you in anything but this.”
“It was enough. It was public.”
“She will never look at us the same if we do this.” His voice was quiet, as if he were already defeated. That was the wrong attitude to go in with, but a tiny part of him still believed he could reason with the King and make him change his mind. That it wasn’t too late.
“She has already been turned into a doe and set free, only the piercing of an arrow will return her to fairy.” Felan looked at both of them. “Both of you acted foolishly. Whatever comes from this you brought on yourselves. It’s a pity you dragged an innocent into this.”
“She’s no innocent,” the King snapped.
“She was to the ways of Annwyn and Court. I invited her here and you both trampled on that invitation.” Felan was sounding more like a King and less like a loyal son.
Father and son glared at each other, the tension clear. While Verden had once envied Felan and his automatic rank, now Verden was glad he could walk away from Annwyn and everything it entailed. He’d achieved his dream and it had soured on his tongue.
“You invited her but did nothing to shield her from the wolves who sought to use her naïveté.” Gwyn looked pointedly at Verden, as if he had committed an offense. Maybe he had; he’d made the great error of letting his heart become involved.
“A mistake I won’t make again.” Felan uncrossed his arms. “I have other things to do today. Are you both ready?”
“Let’s get this done.” Verden shouldered his bow.
The men marched through the woods; never had there been a grimmer hunting party. Even the hounds were behaving oddly. Was the changing of season getting to them?
After some time, Gwyn spoke. “What color doe is Taryn?”
“Her fur is white.” Felan almost spat the word.
White. Verden suppressed a smile. At least Taryn had nothing to be accountable for. If she’d been tan or, worse, black, there would have been more questions asked. White meant her word was true. Whatever deal she’d made with the King, she’d intended to keep. That took any budding smile from off his lips. What had she agreed to before he’d danced with her and ruined everything? He risked a glance at Gwyn, but the King was looking straight ahead, his lips a thin, straight line, his face unreadable.
They stop at a doorway made of two rocky cairns no higher than his knee.
“Where did you take her?”
“The wilds of Ireland. That was the last place this ritual was carried out. I was just a child.”
The King grunted his agreement, then stepped through the doorway and across the veil.
The white doe shivered and lifted her head as if sensing a change on the air, a shimmer of magic on the summer breeze. Her delicate legs began to tremble. Magic meant danger. But she didn’t know why, only that she needed to run. Her stride was awkward, as if she’d never used the legs before. She stumbled and tripped, not sure why everything felt wrong and muddled. She needed to remember.
What did she need to remember?
She slowed to a walk as she tried to understand the images flitting through her head. Too many didn’t make sense. The smells of the forest overwhelmed. There was too much strangeness and nothing was familiar.
Remember who you are.
But she didn’t know who she was.
A dog barked and was joined by another. She knew that the thrumming in her chest was fear, and it gave her legs the power and coordination they needed to run.
Faster, faster, her heart pounded out the rhythm of her run.
Faster, faster, don’t let them get you.
Who was coming to get her?
She didn’t have time to remember or think; she had to run.
Faster, faster. Over rocks and weaving through the oak trees, leaping ferns and moss-covered rocks. On one side white flashed in the undergrowth. She paused at the sight of the white hound with red ears; a memory tugged, but she couldn’t stop and examine it. The dog barked and ran toward her. She darted away, changing course. In the distance a river bubbled. She didn’t want to get caught by the water. Rivers were bad; again a memory pulled and threatened to slow her.
Another hound cut her off. Its tail wagged as if in greeting. The doe took a step back. Were they friend or foe? The dog tilted its head and ginned at her, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. The dog yipped at her and bounced on its paws as if asking her to play and follow; when she didn’t move, it did it again. She took a hesitant step forward.
The other dog rubbed against her legs and gazed up at her.
Something wasn’t right.
She should fear the dogs and yet she knew them; she’d seen them before. How was that possible when she recognized nothing here? The doe lowered her head and nuzzled the dog. It smelled familiar, of someone familiar, someone she trusted and loved. Thoughts began to reassemble. A man in other forests.
A voice shattered her concentration and the memory was lost. All she smelled were dog, earth, and leaves.
Through the trees she saw two men, both raised their weapons. Her memories couldn’t be trusted. She couldn’t trust anyone.
Run, her heart urged. She turned to flee, the hounds at her heels as if they were protecting her from the men. Faster, faster.
Chapter 20
Verden didn’t pause to look at the forest, but he felt it around him, bristling with life and magic. The old plants, oak and holly, birch and rowan all growing together. That is why this place called the wild fae and old magic. Again they were here watching and listening as the three men chased after the white doe.
How much of Taryn was in there? He leaped onto a fallen tree and sighted along the arrow, one heartbeat, two. A dog ran between him and the shot and she moved, running again. Racing away. He’d missed a chance to claim her. He could have turned her back to fairy. But he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. Yet someone had to or she would spend the rest of her days as a deer.
He glanced at Gwyn then Felan. He’d never seen the Prince quite so—not angry. This was too controlled—cold fury. The worst bit was the Prince was right. The feud between him and Gwyn shouldn’t have happened, not now when Annwyn needed stability.