Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  “I am being careful.” The broth had done wonders for clearing my head. “I appreciate what you have done for me so far, but I can’t accept a gift from you without further obligating myself.”

  He dropped the bundle onto the table in front of me. “It’s your choice. Live to negotiate for your mother’s safe return. Or die before we reach the Halls of Winter and leave her at her captors’ mercy.”

  “What you’re saying is I have no choice.” I toyed with the wrapping. “No surprise given how I came to be here.”

  Well and truly stuck, I opened the parcel. “Is that armor?”

  I lifted the topmost piece, a molded-leather breastplate I bet a month’s salary would hug all my curves. How those curves had been measured, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. A black shirt was under that. A pair of pants covered in lightweight scales sat on the bottom of the stack. No. I was wrong. Socks were in there too. What worried me most was the outfit reeked of magic…and elves. Not that it was wholly unexpected. Children’s stories limited elves’ creativity to footwear, but they crafted whatever struck their fancy. Armor included.

  Those stories had been exaggerated in other ways too. Some fae were content to work for honey or other relatively inexpensive or common items. Cobbling elves weren’t one of them, and whoever went through the trouble of making and enchanting this outfit… They were walking around several gold bars lighter.

  Raven caressed my cheek. “Try it on.”

  “No.” I shoved the mound of clothing aside. “It’s too much. I can’t accept it.”

  His other hand rose to smooth his forehead. “You are picking the wrong battles.”

  “I’m protecting myself the best way I know how.” No gifts. No thanks. No perceived debts.

  “Fine.” He scooped up the pile and strode down the hall.

  I lasted all of five seconds before I leapt to my feet and followed. “What are you doing?”

  “These were made for you.” He reached the door, opened it and flung them onto the icy ground. “You don’t want them, and no one else can trigger their magic. I have no reason for keeping them.”

  I gaped at the senseless waste. “Those must have cost you a fortune.”

  “I have resources.” He shrugged. “The cost was not an issue.”

  Right. Princes must inherit small fortunes along with the title.

  Waving a hand at him, I shooed him aside. “Get out of the way.”

  He stepped to the left and unlatched the lock I hadn’t seen him trigger.

  I opened the door and scowled at the heap of clothing smudging the winter-white landscape. Darting outside, I gathered the scattered outfit and ran back in to melt the snow stuck in my hair.

  I dumped it all in a heap on the floor then returned to the hearth and the crackling fire elemental. It flared brighter at my approach, which earned it a smile, then flamed hotter to thaw my icy fingers.

  “I knew you couldn’t resist.” The smugness in Raven’s voice was thicker than the honey I gifted Mable.

  “Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Some of us work for a living.” The cost of that outfit would have paid my rent for five years. “So no, I couldn’t leave the clothes to ruin.”

  Raven shoved off the wall where he had been leaning. “Your father doesn’t provide for you?”

  “Not a penny.” I massaged the stinging from my hands. “I pay my own way.”

  He cocked his head. “I didn’t realize.”

  “That I wasn’t a kept woman?” I scoffed. “Sorry to disillusion you.”

  He sounded thoughtful. “I would have handled this situation differently if I had known.”

  “The ratty couch wasn’t your first clue?” I laughed. “Or the rattletrap car I drive?”

  His brows slanted downward. “They were low quality, but you seemed pleased with them.”

  “I am pleased with them.” Heat stung my neck until I rubbed it. “Let’s just—new topic okay?”

  Finally I understood why talking money was considered crass at worst, borderline rude at best.

  For those who never worried where their next meal was coming from, fear of going hungry was as foreign as my first step into Faerie.

  A throat clearing brought my attention back to Raven.

  “No time. We have to leave.” He gestured toward the clothes. “You must dress quickly.”

  I straightened from the fire, mourning the loss of its heat. “I’m not accepting your gift.”

  “What gift? Do you mean those clothes you found discarded on my property? Those aren’t mine. Not my size.” He canted his head. “It’s your choice. Use them or not.”

  “You are…” I rolled a few choice words around my head before settling on, “…sneaky.”

  A tight smile stretched his lips. “I have been called worse.”

  I just bet he had.

  — —

  Even after being assured I was under no obligation to accept or wear the gift Raven had offered, I couldn’t make myself do either. What frightened me was not being given freedom to choose, but fear of making the wrong choice. I had never intended to visit Faerie, and I wasn’t prepared for it.

  Basic fae etiquette had been drummed into my head, but I had never bargained with a creature like this.

  Raven could destroy me. He could twist any one of the missteps I had made around him until he owned me. That he hadn’t yet didn’t mean he wouldn’t ever. It just meant I was of more use to him running on my own steam, making fresh mistakes to compound the old ones than under his auspices.

  When he excused himself to freshen up, my fingers began itching to fling the pile of armor into the fire. That was one way to make a decision, right? His return made me grateful I had resisted the temptation.

  Gone were the trappings of the mortal realm. Raven wore a black leather outfit, one part armor and two parts fashion plate, that complemented the one he’d had made for me. Silver-studded gloves stretched to his elbows. His shoulders were masked by epaulets fashioned from sleek black feathers of varying lengths and a heavy cloak fastened underneath. Free of its braid, his hair hung dark and smooth down his back.

  The slight peak at his forehead was accentuated by the elegant sterling circlet he wore. An oversight maybe, since he dressed quickly, but the crest in its center was inverted. The stylized bird with a serpent clutched in its talons flew upside down. I was about to draw his attention to it but decided against it.

  Care had been taken with every aspect of his appearance. Not one hair on his head was out of place. He chose to wear his crown upside down. Why? If it was a political statement, I was better off ignorant. I gladly fisted my thin plausible deniability in a chokehold and kept my questions to myself.

  Taking all this into consideration, I made the best decision with the information available.

  I forced out the words. “Is there somewhere I can change?”

  A pleased gleam lit his eyes, but I let it pass without comment. Silent in his triumph, he gathered the clothes and escorted me to an enormous bedroom decorated in the same requisite shades of black as the rest of the house. I squinted to make out ornate details because of the monochromatic scheme.

  Jeans and a faded denim shirt covered the arm of a black damask chair by the cold hearth.

  Hello, master suite.

  Why not? I mean, in a residence this size, empty rooms must be so difficult to come by.

  He set my clothes on the bed, his bed, sorting the individual pieces as if concerned I might skip one then pointed toward the far right corner. “The bath is there if you want to refresh yourself before you change.”

  “I might take you up on that.” I was grimy, and I wanted to make a good impression.

  That desire to impress had been what tipped the scales in his favor.

  The consuls would look at me and measure me against my father. I wouldn’t stack up. I knew it. Right now I looked human, and fae didn’t esteem mortals. I needed their respect if I wanted them to bargain with me
fairly. I had one way to get it, assuming all royal fae weren’t immune to my talent the way Raven was, but going that route meant someone had to die needlessly in order for me to make my point.

  If clothes made the fae, then it was time I dressed the part.

  Chapter 19

  Constant tickling on my throat finally made me snap. My fashion statement might have suffered, but I yanked four tail feathers from the mini epaulets attached to the leather straps on my breastplate.

  Raven cut his eyes in my direction.

  I pretended not to notice.

  We had left his home what felt like hours ago. Though my outfit was thin, the heat-spelled lining kept me toasty. The worst damage I took trudging through the powdery snow on Raven’s heels was cracked lips and a wind-burned face. My cheeks must have glowed red and raw as much as they stung. His remained pale and smooth as always.

  The farther we trekked, the more relaxed he appeared and the tenser I became. We traveled deep into the heart of his house’s holdings. The tingling in my scalp told me this was not a place I should ever have seen.

  Faerie was divided into seasons that mirrored the mortal realm, except all four seasons coexisted here. This world wasn’t spherical like Earth. Faerie was more of a geographic map, and it was possible to fall off the edges. Though it was more likely you would be eaten before that happened.

  Winter, with its darkly creeping longer nights, belonged to Unseelie House. Summer, with its brightly languorous days, belonged to Seelie House. Autumn and Spring were neutral ground, but Mable told me once that Autumn was in Winter’s pocket and Spring had ties to Summer. Considering their seasonal segregations, it seemed odd the Halls of Winter would handle negotiations, unless that was an admission of guilt in itself. Still, shouldn’t we head toward Autumn? It favored Unseelie, which ought to put Raven at ease, without alienating the Seelie.

  The way I saw it, I was a neutral party. Autumn was neutral ground. Neutrality was what I needed in order to avoid being seen as having a preference for either side.

  Arriving dressed to match with a dark fae prince to the Halls of Winter made a statement.

  Freaking fae men and their games. Mom had been right to warn me about them.

  “Look there.” Raven’s voice carried over the wind. “The Halls of Winter.”

  I followed his line of sight to a fortress made of ice blocks, each rectangular brick taller than I was. Turrets rose in three of the four corners. In the farthest corner, an enormous platform hung suspended over a quarter of the exposed interior courtyard.

  Snow hung dense in the air. Fat clouds covered the upper portions of the structure, obscuring it from view. What puzzled me most were the guards walking along the walls. Each held a black cable that stretched into the clouds. For all I knew, another tier of rooms were concealed high over their heads and those thick ropes hung from a… No. That couldn’t be right.

  The men walked. The ropes moved with them. Not stationary so… “What am I looking at?”

  Raven’s chuckle heated my ear. “You will see.”

  Though I should have known better, the glint of mischief in his eyes heightened my anticipation.

  What was I about to see? How was he so certain it would blow my mind?

  Better yet, why did he care what I thought?

  We crested a small hill and were met by an honest-to-God ogre. He was taller than most trees, and the ground rumbled under our feet as the creature’s lips moved. Boulders collided in his voice. His grumbled words sounded foreign to my ears, and they were beyond my comprehension.

  Raven answered him in that grating language then lifted his hand, and a pulse of black magic whirled across his palm.

  With a tight nod of acknowledgement, the ogre fell to its knees before him, knocking me onto my ass in the snow.

  Raven hooked his arm under mine. “He won’t harm you on purpose, but stay on your guard. Accidents with ogres can prove fatal.”

  My shoulders stiffened. Was he implying accidentally on purpose?

  Maybe the ogre didn’t like playing gatekeeper. Or maybe he just didn’t like half-bloods like me.

  I leaned against Raven. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He glanced down at me. “Hold on.”

  “Why should I…?”

  The ogre speared his fingers into the ground before us, shoveling the frozen chunk of dirt where we stood into his palm and lifting us to his shoulder height before his eye caught mine and he grinned.

  My knees turned to rubber. Let him laugh. It would serve him right if I puked on his knuckles.

  A strong arm circled my waist—Raven’s—and held me tight against his side. “You’ll be fine.”

  “As long as I don’t look down?” I covered my mouth before I emptied my stomach.

  “We’re almost there.” His thumb tapped my hip absently. “It will be worthwhile. I promise.”

  I elbowed his hand. “You’re half bird, of course you aren’t scared.”

  His lips were back at my ear, his breath hot on my throat. “I won’t let you fall.”

  Terrified of testing his promise, I didn’t punch him again. Oh, but I wanted to.

  I crushed my eyes closed and focused on breathing while the ogre hummed a tune and the world trembled in our passage. I had almost succeeded in convincing myself I wasn’t going to be eaten or flung to my death when the ride stopped and the hand beneath us began moving, threatening to topple me.

  Raven squeezed my shoulder. “Look now.”

  The cables were a few hundred yards away, and we stood higher than the guards’ heads. I let my gaze travel the length of one strand from a youthful fae’s hand up into the clouds and…my knees gave.

  I knelt on a clod of dirt clutched in an ogre’s hand, and I stared up at the impossible.

  My voice cracked. “Those are dragons.”

  Raven stared up at them, wonder absent in his gaze. “They are.”

  “Those don’t exist,” I explained to him very slowly. “Not even in Faerie.”

  In search of richer nesting grounds, dragons had followed the first fae into the mortal realm where they were hunted to extinction by humans. All the history books said so. Yet there they were. Breathing. Flying. Alive.

  The sleek lizards gliding over my head wore glistening metallic scales, and there were two beasts for each primary color. Their tails were streamers sailing in their wake. With serpentine necks, their heads were the size of entire horses with teeth the length of my arm. Wings extended from either side of their spines on nubby arms. Between finger-like striations, the skin looked as thin as silk.

  Each wore a thick leather bridle clasped with a black cable.

  “Mother has an affinity for winged creatures.” Raven swept out his arm. “This is her legacy.”

  The edge of bitterness made me seek his face. “Not her son?”

  “Heirs die.” His eyes hardened. “Bastards rise.” He glanced at me. “Legends are immortal.”

  “How does no one know this?” A legend was only as effective as its reach.

  “The Unseelie know, when it is important they should remember.” He made it sound like that was enough. “There is an enchantment on the beasts. Anyone may see them while on these grounds. Unless the visitor has been given the gift of recall, they forget the dragons after they leave, thus protecting their existence.”

  I soaked in their ethereal beauty. “I will forget them.”

  “For now.” His gaze went distant. “There is always later to consider.”

  As the ogre’s hand swung past the landing pad, Raven asked, “Would you like a closer look?”

  “No.” I turned my back on them. “That’s not why I’m here. I can’t play tourist with you.”

  “Another time perhaps.” He called out to the ogre, “To the front gate.”

  Gravity ceased to exist. The ogre lowered his hand so fast my feet left the ground, hair flew over my head. With sweaty palms, I clutched Raven’s arm. Unflustered by the free fall, he was my ancho
r.

  Before the ogre’s knuckles brushed the pavers leading to the main gate, he slowed our descent. My knees buckled, and I sat down hard. He twisted his wrist and dropped us—dirt clod and all—onto the path. Still on my knees, I leaned forward on my hands and kissed the icy ground. While my churning gut settled, I braced my spinning forehead against the cold stones under my palms.

  Raven took my arm and forced me to my feet. “It’s dangerous to show weakness here.”

  I broke his grip. “I’m about to show what I had for lunch.”

  “That would be unwise.”

  “As unwise as wandering around this place with you?”

  His face cracked into a smile. “As guides go, you could do worse.”

  That circlet must be on too tight. This wasn’t a sightseeing tour or a vacation. This was a rescue mission. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to stop dwelling on the part where I hadn’t exactly came here willingly either. Raven was the means through which my goals would be achieved.

  Once the ink dried on the deals we were about to make, he would be my ticket home.

  “We should get inside.” I stepped toward the door. “I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  Raven’s strides matched mine as we met the guards and gained entry. We were led through long halls that called Raven’s home to mind. Ornate fireplaces acted as centerpieces in every room we passed, warming the air to a bearable degree. Their fires lacked the friendly warmth of Raven’s. The dripping mantles and puddled hearths convinced me the fires were coaxed from wood and elbow grease, not the product of elemental magic.

  More’s the pity. It was handy having a fire come when you called it.

  “Wait here.” He eased in front of me. “I don’t want there to be any surprises.”

  I nodded and stepped to one side.

  When the door opened before us, he ducked inside a dimly lit room that smelled of rich incense. Myrrh undertones made my nasal passages itch.

  Grateful for a moment alone, I straightened my clothing and smoothed my windblown hair with trembling fingers. I shoved all thoughts of dragons and ogres and elementals into the back of my mind.