The Hunt

by Frost Kay

  Pyre stiffened, but she didn’t let go. A minute passed, and he slowly relaxed, enfolding her in his own massive arms. He held her tightly against his chest and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. The fire crackled in the hearth, and minutes drifted by, but she didn’t move until she felt some of the tension in his body melt away.

  She carefully pulled back. “Make no mistake, we are still enemies, but in this matter, I will help you. What happened today must never take place again.”

  “So, we’re allies.”

  “So it seems.”

  She squeaked when the kitsune rolled to his feet and set her down. Her lips thinned as she stepped out of his arms. The bastard could have dislodged her at any point. Damn Talagan strength.

  He turned his back to her and poured another drink. “A toast to our new partnership?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Afraid I’ll poison you?”

  “It seems prudent to keep my wits about me in the current company.”

  He chuckled. “There’s the old pragmatic Tempest I know.” Pyre turned and rested a hip against the kitchen table. “What happens next? You feed us information about what’s going on, straight from the horse’s mouth?” A vicious grin spread upon his face. “Although comparing Destin to a horse is an insult to the horse. I always considered him more of an—”

  “I won’t promise that,” Tempest said sternly.

  Pyre quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Even after everything you’ve seen today, you still won’t join our side?”

  “That isn’t what I said,” she said. “I’m not on anyone’s side. Not yours, not the king’s, not until I truly know what is happening.”

  “Very wise, but I certainly hope you’ll be on mine. Your prickly nature has grown on me some.”

  She ignored his comment as Briggs’s question once again returned to her mind. “I stand on the side of the innocent.” Tempest lifted her chin and stood taller. “You certainly aren’t innocent.”

  “My delicate sensibilities are so offended,” he cried.

  “I’m sure,” she muttered dryly. “I need to collect more evidence.”

  “You want me to let you go.”

  “To corroborate your theories, yes. If you’re correct, I’ll feed you the information you need.”

  Pyre swirled his spirits. “And if you can’t?”

  “I’ll stay silent.” For now.

  “You want me to trust you?”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Tempest murmured.

  “I could toss you back into a pit.”

  She flinched at the memory of falling into the dark pit. “True, but you’d be back to square one. Spyless.”

  “I have plenty of spies.”

  “Not ones on the king’s war council.”

  The Jester appraised her. “You’re a bold one. No wonder he likes you.”

  Her lip curled just the tiniest bit. There was no doubt who the he was that Pyre was speaking about.

  “You truly aren’t the king’s tart.” The kitsune’s smile widened, and he pointed at her face. “You better get that facial spasm under control, or it’ll make you even more desirable. He relishes conquering things.”

  “I’m not discussing that with you. Let’s focus on what really matters,” she bit out. “If I find out that the king and the Hounds are responsible for all of this, I will stay undercover on the council for as long as I can to feed you more information. If I discover nothing, this will be the last conversation we ever have before I find you and throw you into a windowless prison for your prior crimes.”

  Pyre contemplated this for a long time in silence. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

  “I’m not your friend, but I am your ally.” For a moment back then, she might have thought they could be, but not now. A gulf of depravity and sin lay between them. She pressed her lips together, hating what she needed to say next. “I need to return, and I can’t return home empty-handed,” Tempest said very quietly.

  “You need a heart.”

  “I do… and my weapons.”

  He gazed impassively through her. “It’ll be done. Give me an hour.”

  Tempest ran her fingertips over the grain of the heavy wooden table in Pyre’s kitchen as she thought out her next steps. She looked at the front door.

  She could leave now. Without the heart. Without saying goodbye. Without any responsibility being thrust upon her shoulders. She could simply…run away. She’d always wanted to see the giants of Kopal. It wouldn’t be easy crossing the mountains, but she’d be able to do it.

  She shook her head at her fantasies. Of course, she would not leave. She was in too deep, and she had a job to do. It was her responsibility to help if she saw a need. And someone needed to stop the poisonings. She wanted to prevent another village from being wiped off the map before it was too late.

  Pyre returned stone-faced and grim, his mouth set in a determined line. Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. He looked like a dark, avenging angel: dangerous and alluring.

  He held out her leather satchel. Knowing what must be inside, her hands trembled as she took it. She ignored how the Jester’s fingers brushed her own as she reverently opened the bag and examined her weapons. It was like she had a little piece of herself back.

  “It’s needless to say, but what you’re doing is extremely dangerous.”

  “Isn’t that why you need me to do it?” she asked, closing the satchel.

  “I suppose so.” His hand wrapped around her wrist, and she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. “I may be the monster who lives under your bed, but you have a choice. I won’t force you to do anything.”

  “No one makes me do anything I don’t want to do.” She slung the bag over her shoulder, feeling the sharp edge of a box within it against her hip. She looked down at it, then back at Pyre. “I understand the risks.”

  “Be sure you do,” he murmured, a familiar smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Lion-Killer. Goddess of Little Fawns. Lady Hound. You have much to lose.”

  The two of them stared at each other in silence. Pyre scratched one of his fox ears and shifted his amber gaze to the door. “Come in, Briggs.”

  The door swung open, and the healer’s massive frame filled the doorway.

  “Time to go,” Briggs said, breaking the increasingly awkward silence at the best—or perhaps, the worst—moment. Tempest wasn’t sure which it was. Briggs handed Tempest all of her previous gear, which she attached to her person with a joy she had not felt in weeks. She no longer felt so exposed, now she had her sword and daggers and, most importantly, her mother’s bow and quiver again.

  She stroked the intricate pattern engraved into the bow with her thumb, before slinging it onto her back. “What now, then?”

  Pyre pulled his forest-green cloak from the wall and threw it over Tempest’s shoulders. She gawked and then snapped her mouth shut when the kitsune pulled the hood low over her face. She held out a hand to stop him on instinct, and he caught it in his own with ease.

  “We can’t have you knowing how to get back here, if you end up deciding not to help us,” he explained. “Briggs will return you to where my clan first picked up your scent.”

  “And if I need to contact you?” Tempest asked, flinging back the hood in order to look at Pyre for what could well be the last time. “How will I find you?”

  He flashed an achingly familiar grin at her. “Why, we’ll find you, of course.”

  Tempest

  Briggs and Tempest did not speak to each other as they passed into a stretch of trees—trees that had been impressed into Tempest’s mind for a long time.

  The woods where I started my journey.

  She glanced at the huge man walking beside her as he hummed a soft tune. He really did remind her of Maxim, though Briggs was quiet and thoughtful whereas Maxim was boisterous and impulsive. Maybe it was because both men looked after her in the same practical way.

  Her lip curled when the pair of them splashed through the
shallow banks of a babbling stream, and some water slogged over the top of her right boot. Her bad luck hadn’t run out, it seemed. Tempest paused at the edge of the stream and plopped down on a large, sun warmed rock.

  “I need a moment,” she told Briggs, before dropping her bag, bow, and quiver to the ground in order to yank her shoe off. Her whole body ached as she dumped the water from her boot. She grinned when she imagined a small fish pouring from her boot.

  Unprompted, Briggs stepped closer and began massaging her sore shoulder. “It’s healing well,” he commented. “How’s the pain?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” But can you handle what’s to come?

  A strange mix of relief and dread filled her soul—Tempest was pleased she was free but… the truth seemed deadlier and more terrifying than she ever could have imagined. Could her family really have been part of the deadliest set-ups in history? She brushed the idea away—Maxim and Dima couldn’t have been part of it. As for Aleks… She just couldn’t get the sickly-sweet scent from his healing tent out of her head. Does that really make him a murderer?

  “Tempest?” Briggs questioned, a frown of concern furrowing his brows. “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Just thinking.” She wiggled her boot one more time and tugged the damp shoe back on. “There is much that will be decided once I return to Dotae. I don’t relish lying to my sovereign,” she said bitterly. It was only a matter of time until he discovered her betrayal. So why are you doing this? Are you really going to believe the Jester’s word?

  The Jester.

  She glared at her distorted reflection in the stream. The name tasted like ash in her mouth; Tempest wished she could wash it away as easily as she had done the black dye in her hair. The Jester had trapped her so nicely. And, now with her reunion with King Destin, she felt like a helpless fly caught in a spider’s web. Her stomach lurched sickeningly.

  She placed her hand over her belly and steeled her nerves. Tempest had to stay strong, not just for herself but for all the innocent people who’d died so senselessly. Doing what was right never meant it was easy.

  Briggs placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You carry a heavy burden.” He sighed. “But if I have learned anything about you over the past few weeks it’s that you’re resilient and headstrong. And you have a good sense of right and wrong and a desire for justice just as powerful as Pyre’s.” She barely kept her skepticism from her face. The Jester was no saint. Briggs continued. “You will not fail us… or yourself. I trust you.”

  Tempest gulped back a lump in her throat. When had anyone placed that much trust in her? She’d never been one for crying in public and didn’t want to start now. She squeezed Briggs’s hand for a moment, then gently removed it from her shoulder as she got back to her feet, reattached her bow and quiver and slung her bag on her back once more. Feelings needed to be irrelevant in what was to come.

  “Thank you, Briggs,” she said, very quietly. “Thank you for looking out for me. For supporting me. For not judging me the way I initially judged you and your people. I won’t promise anything, but I will say that I hope to see you again someday.”

  He nodded, stoic as always. Tempest turned from him and began walking through the forest in the direction of the royal city.

  “I pray it will be sooner than someday, my lady. Stay safe,” he called out after her.

  A stubborn, lone tear dripped down her cheek, followed by a few more silent comrades.

  “I cannot be emotional right now,” she mumbled a few minutes later, wiping away any evidence of her tears. Tempest glanced down at the metal box attached to her belt, innocuous and innocent to look upon if one did not know what it held.

  Unbidden, the expression on the Jester’s face when he discovered his grandfather’s body seared itself into her mind. Pyre had looked like part of himself had died. Tempest clenched her jaw and picked up her pace. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Dead was dead. She needn’t feel guilty over a heart that wouldn’t do anyone any good buried in the ground. If anything, she imagined his grandfather would be proud to help such a noble cause.

  It was time she completed her task to perfection.

  After all, that was what she’d trained her entire life to do.

  The black velvet of night had descended and gem-like stars had begun to wink into existence when Tempest finally approached the immense metal gates to Dotae. The chill of a frosty night nipped at her exposed skin, so she tied her cloak a little tighter across her chest and pulled up its voluminous hood to protect her ears, Pyre’s spicy scent enveloping her. Her lips turned down. Why did he smell so good?

  She shook her head and refocused. Tempest studied the warriors guarding the entrance, their body language stiff and intimidating. They were on edge. A month ago, they hadn’t been. What had changed in the city to make them act so?

  A hulking guard stepped toward her and held up a hand, his other settling over the hilt of his sword. She eyed him. The man was spoiling for a fight.

  “State your business,” he grunted.

  “I seek my bed. It’s well past time that I get home.”

  Another warrior to her right crept closer, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And what is a girl like you doing out so late? You should know it’s not safe to travel alone.” His squinty gaze roamed over her body in a lecherous appraisal.

  Tempest’s nose wrinkled. Even though her whole frame was covered by her cloak, it still felt like he could somehow see through the heavy cloth.

  “Answer me,” he bit out.

  The warriors were testy and lecherous. She’d have to speak to Dima about that. The guards were supposed to protect their people, not frighten them.

  She slowly reached for her hood, careful not to startle the two men and lowered it to reveal her infamous hair. Its long strands fluttered in the freezing night breeze, leaving no doubt about which family line she belonged to. The guard to her left visibly paled and bowed.

  “My lady,” he murmured, much more respectful.

  She fiddled with her leather glove. “I see you’ve heard of me. I am Tempest Madrid, and I’ve not got time to dally,” she said, making sure to keep her voice level and commanding. “If you’d be so kind as to let me pass, I’ll be sure to pass along to King Destin how diligent his men are at the gate.”

  Both guards backed away from her as if she’d burned them. They lowered their heads immediately. “Of course, my lady. Our deepest apologies. We were only doing our job.”

  Tempest said nothing, choosing instead to stroll right past them. She paused and glanced over her shoulder at the men. “I would consider it a favor to me if you kept my appearance a secret.”

  The lecherous guard bobbed his head comically. “Consider it done.”

  She nodded and lifted her hood once again to avoid drawing attention as she wound through the streets, straight to the barracks. King Destin would know of her return within the hour, now that she’d announced herself, which gave Tempest very little time to prepare for her impending meeting with him. The men wouldn’t be able to keep silent. They might keep her presence quiet for an hour but that would be all the reprieve she’d get. Winter’s bite, she didn’t want to face him yet. But she was sure she’d receive the summons shortly.

  All she wanted was to sleep and pretend that everything that had happened over the past month was but one long, horrible nightmare.

  Just for one day.

  But those slaving for the kingdom didn’t have the benefit of procrastination. She had a job to do and she had to do it now. Even if the next part of it was unpleasant and dangerous. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t been trained for. Except for the way the king looked at her. Gods, she didn’t know how she was going to deal with that.

  One thing at a time, Temp.

  Some of her confusion, fear, and anxiety faded as she caught sight of the achingly familiar Hounds’ barracks in which she was raised. There was a large fire burning in a pit in the center of the training rings. Hound
s and trainees were sitting around it enjoying a drink, food, and easy conversation. She hid her smile and ghosted into the group. She held her hands out to the fire and waited.

  Tempest closed her eyes when Maxim released a deep belly laugh from across the fire. It was so good to be home. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she was wearing her own skin again. Her uncle dropped his head and glanced across the flame. It was pure accident that his gaze snagged hers.

  “Lass?” he called over and then stood up immediately. “Tempest, is that you?”

  She once more lowered her hood, smiling for the large, boisterous man who bounded over to smother her in a bone-crushing hug before she had a chance to reply. She wheezed but didn’t ask him to let go. She had sorely missed Maxim over the past month. She had missed all of her uncles—even Aleks. Don’t judge until you have the complete truth.

  “You were gone so long Dima was considering sending out a search party for you,” Maxim rumbled in her ear. He pulled back and ruffled Tempest’s hair, before clasping her cool cheeks between his enormous hands.

  “I’m okay,” she said softly.

  “I was not planning to do that,” Dima said from behind him, inclining his head politely toward Tempest as he did so. “How did your trip go, Temp?”

  She kept her smile in place, barely, which completely belied the shocking revelations that had turned her entire world upside-down. “I came back in one piece, did I not? That implies it went well enough.” They could take that as they pleased.

  Maxim laughed. “That’s my girl. Come, join us by the fire and have a drink. You deserve it.”

  “I have a feeling King Destin will want to see her before she can relax, Maxim.”

  Tempest turned her head. Aleks appeared from the crowd of Hounds, his hair sticking up in all directions. His strong arms wrapped around her, and she hugged him without thinking the gesture through. A little body flashed through her mind, and her stomach twisted.