Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  After stretching, he crossed the room to a small table where a seashell-encrusted tray sat beside a blue milk glass pitcher with matching cups. “They brought fresh fruit. All Earth varieties.” White mist curled under the lid when he lifted it. “Watermelon, cantaloupe, grapes and blackberries. Are you hungry?”

  “Not really.” I untied my hair and combed my fingers through the worst knots.

  “You should eat.” Diode didn’t twitch a paw. “You need your strength.”

  Rook nudged my shoulder with the edge of a plate. “He’s right. You have to eat something.”

  I folded my legs under me, picked up a strawberry and brought it to my lips. Rook watched with rapt attention, and I don’t think I was the only one remembering how I had fed him berries in the burrow. The act had been impersonal then. There was nothing indifferent about the way he watched me now.

  Too bad I wasn’t in the mood. I stopped eating until he took the hint and returned to his chair.

  Passing over the berry, I chose a cube of watermelon. “How much longer do you think?”

  “An hour, maybe less.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. He must have noticed my eyebrows creeping upward. He qualified, “The dryad has been keeping us updated.”

  I rolled my eyes and bit into another piece of fruit. “I bet she has.”

  His lips quirked in a pleased kind of almost smile that would have done flip-floppy things to my stomach yesterday. Today I was reconciled to my fate.

  Fine. So I liked him. No. I had liked him before grasping the depth of his betrayal.

  The time was right wasn’t an excuse. For the greater good, well, that wasn’t much of one either. Not unless I had concrete evidence another party benefitted from his scheming. Right now I had nothing. Just his word, a spark of believable anger and the hope he had told me the truth.

  For once.

  I didn’t want Rook to have a missing sibling, but knowledge was power. If she existed, and if he had orchestrated all of this to find her, then I had twenty-four-karat leverage.

  Soft knocks on the door had me setting aside my plate and sliding from the mattress to my feet.

  “Come in,” Rook called after joining me.

  The dryad entered with a smile that wilted as her gaze swept over me. “You have not changed.”

  I cast Rook a what is that about look.

  “The garments you provided for Thierry are lovely, but I noticed the buttons bear the crest of the Seelie house.” His lips thinned. “The consuls will understand why she must decline to wear items that might mistakenly imply her loyalty to an opposing faction. She is wed to an Unseelie.”

  Red splashed over her cheeks. “I am sure the consuls meant no disrespect.”

  Since she looked to me, I forced a smile. “I’m sure it was an innocent mistake.”

  Ah, politics. As far as anyone knew, my head was as likely to be severed as it was to be crowned. The Seelie were hedging their bets. But buttons? Really? Then again, if broth and a change of clothes had made me Rook’s common-law wife, who knew what a button signified?

  I was starting to think the dead princes were the lucky ones. Who would choose this kind of life?

  Rook touched my arm, jarring me from my thoughts and answering that question. He wanted it. He had chosen this life, possibly for both of us. Had schemed and wheedled and toiled to possess it.

  “The consuls await your arrival.” She kept her head bowed. “I will escort you if you are ready.”

  “I’m ready.” I rolled my shoulders, loosening them. “Diode?”

  The grumpy cat rose and stretched, yawning in a way that showcased all of his sizable teeth. He padded over to me and headbutted my thigh to get me moving. “Go on, you will not face this alone.”

  My fingers curled in his fur. Rook came to my side but made no move to touch me. Smart man.

  After nudging Rook out the door ahead of us, I paused while he and the dryad got a head start. I knelt in front of Diode, putting us eye to eye. “If this goes south, I need you to promise me something.”

  He rubbed his soft cheek against mine. “Of course.”

  “Make sure Mom gets home.” I swallowed. “She won’t want details. Just—let her make up her own mind about what happened to me. If you hung around for a while…after…that would be good too.”

  His tongue rasped against the tip of my nose. “She will want for nothing, and no harm will come to her so long as I live.”

  I wiped the backs of my hands under my eyes. “You’re not half bad for a cat.”

  “If I had found you as a pup,” he said on a chuckle, “I might not have drowned you either.”

  — —

  Haggard faces greeted us inside the chamber. The Watchers, the Huntsman and the consuls waited exactly where we had left them.

  “The consuls have come to an agreement,” Liosliath announced.

  “Will you agree to abide by our ruling?” Daibhidh’s voice crackled with glee. “Well?”

  I exchanged a glance with Diode and then with Rook. Each offered me a nod of encouragement. “I…” I balled my fists until my nails cut crescent moons in my palms. “I will accept your judgment.”

  The Huntsman grunted at the consuls then approached me. Rook eased between us, but I shoved him aside and faced my judgment alone. My Word rested on my lips, ready to leap from my tongue. I may have exaggerated a skosh about the acceptance thing. I had come too far to meekly accept death.

  The consuls would have a fight on their hands if they wanted to put down this little black dog.

  The Huntsman held out his hands, curling his fingers until I placed mine in his.

  “Thierry Thackeray, daughter of Macsen Sullivan, it is with a glad heart I welcome you to Faerie.” He brought my hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I wish your sire might see you now. He would be as proud of you as I am, for we are kin, as your father was knit together from my flesh and bones and so you were from his. You may call on me in times of need. I am loyal to your reign.”

  My lips parted, but all I managed was to bob my head in response.

  “Long live Princess Thierry,” he bellowed, “champion of House Unseelie, beloved daughter of the Black Dog, wife of the Rook, daughter-in-law of the Morrigan, granddaughter of my heart…”

  Struck mute by his recitation, it hit me what he was doing. Here, before these witnesses, he was claiming me. He was warning both courts who my allies were so they knew who they would answer to if I was harmed. The message was clear. Their prince had been murdered, their princess wouldn’t be.

  Quick as a rabbit, my heart jumped around in my chest. They’re going to let me live.

  Daibhidh’s reflection beamed at me while a somber Liosliath kept his own council.

  Swaying on my feet, I let the Huntsman’s meaty hand clasp my shoulder and hold me steady.

  “We will relinquish the crown in seven days,” Liosliath granted.

  “We will remove Prince Raven’s belongings from the Halls of Winter.” Daibhidh grinned. “It is now your home to do with as you see fit.” He addressed Rook. “No doubt your husband can help smooth your transition to court life. I offer my council to you, Princess, whenever you are in need. I am your humble servant.”

  Home. Home was a realm away. My family, my friends, my life—none of it was here.

  Rook must have sensed me teetering on the breaking point. He wrapped an arm around me, and I let him support me because my knees had turned to water. His soft lips brushed the shell of my ear.

  “Relax,” he whispered. “The worst is over.”

  No. My life was over.

  His clear voice pierced through the excited murmurings. “The princess does have one request.”

  Liosliath’s brow puckered. “We are listening.”

  “As overcome as she is by her great fortune, she desires a period of five years during which time she will transition from life in the mortal realm to life here. She wishes to familiarize herself with
the intricacies of her new position before she assumes official duties.” He squeezed me tighter against him. “Five years is a blink of time.”

  The consuls’ likenesses darkened, and their respective Watchers shifted on their seats.

  “We offer you a crown, and you refuse it in favor of living among—among humans?” Hot color boiled in Daibhidh’s cheeks. “You seek to make a mockery of the mercy we have shown you.”

  The Huntsman growled at them. “You would rescue her from the hounds and throw her to the wolves?”

  “I rescued myself.” The words popped out before I thought to stop them.

  “What do you mean?” Liosliath asked the Huntsman, “What are you implying?”

  “She was raised as a human by a human.” The Huntsman spread his hands. Point made. “The Southwestern Conclave provided her with a basic education on fae politics as they exist in the mortal realm. Allow her twelve months, a mere year of her centennial reign, as preparation to assume the throne.”

  The reflections rippled in contemplation.

  “Who do you propose rules during that time?” Liosliath asked at last.

  The Huntsman worked his jaw, chewing over his answer for a full minute before he sighed. “I propose Rook be named our Prince Regent and given the power to act on the princess’s behalf during her absence.”

  “Absence?” Liosliath and Daibhidh’s voices echoed.

  The Huntsman lifted his hand. “I propose she be allowed to continue her education in the mortal realm.” When Liosliath started to argue, Huntsman said, “After her coronation, she will be bound to our realm and expected to leave her old life behind her. She is young, with living mortal relatives. There is also the matter of justice for King Moran. While his killer remains free, we remain ignorant of his reasons for assassinating the king. Until he is punished, the princess may also be in danger. ”

  “Are you implying that the Conclave and its marshals are more capable of safeguarding our princess than we are?” Daibhidh sneered. “Her infamy is what will protect her. Don’t be a fool.”

  “I think his idea has merit.” Liosliath’s expression turned thoughtful. “I second the idea.”

  “What?” his counterpart screeched.

  While those two hurled insults at one another, the Huntsman edged closer to me and interpreted.

  “Consul Liosliath must believe if you’re in the mortal realm that those laws will apply when he tries to have you killed. Some might argue that since you were mortal born, they apply regardless.”

  The Seelie consul excelled at reading people. He knew if he let me go home, I would fight tooth and claw to stay there. And I would. The law the Huntsman spoke of stated if you left Faerie, permanently, as I wanted to, you severed all ties with your family. Therefore, if the Seelie had me killed, no one of my bloodline in Faerie could seek vengeance.

  “That’s a clever interpretation of the law,” I allowed. “Why is Daibhidh pissed?”

  “You’re the first princess of any house. You would be the first Unseelie to rule since your father’s writ became law. Not only that. News of your win will spread like wild faefire through both realms.” He grunted. “Consul Daibhidh wants to ensure your reign sticks, and the best way to do that is to put you on display, to spread stories of your victories and leak the footage gathered by the Watchers. There is also the matter of your vows to Rook. While he is not a catch by anyone’s standards, he is Unseelie.”

  Defense for Rook pursed my lips. Then I thought of my mom, and the urge vanished. “Care to tell me what the real reason is why I’m getting even a temporary get out of jail free ticket?”

  His chuckle rumbled under his breath. “Fae are star born and sun forged. This notion of peaceful living was a new idea to old minds. Old ones prize novelty as much as they fear the change it brings. It is never a certainty whether curiosity or self-preservation will triumph. We all thought ‘What harm can come of living this way?’ Longevity, stability and wealth were the benefits Black Dog extoled.”

  “Faerie thrived under those laws.” Or so the conclave assured us.

  “Aye, she did, for a while. Now those laws are poison ink seeping beneath her parchment skin.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The truce was signed with blood, locking us into a forced peace, which causes dissent to ripple beneath the surface of every conversation. This is not a natural state of being. This is not as it should be. Peace is an empty gesture when it must be maintained by force. Your father has exhausted himself for his beliefs, and I admire his dedication, but the old truce was broken when King Moran died.”

  “If the truce is broken and everyone wants out,” I wondered, “why bother with any of this?”

  “It’s sleight of hand, child. Smoke and mirrors. Present your enemies the face you wish them to see while concealing your true intentions. You are a final hope for your father’s writ. The people will either follow you out of loyalty for him and respect for how you obtained the crown, or they will rebel and blood will fall like rain across the land.” He exhaled. “Truth be told, it would almost be a relief.”

  With a mighty sigh, the Huntsman strode toward the Watchers and addressed the consuls.

  Diode issued a deep purr, drawing my attention down to him. I got the message. We weren’t leaving any time soon, so I ought to put my hands to good use.

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Rook. He stood with his shoulders back and his face wiped of emotion. His eyes, though, burned bright. Anticipation rolled off him until my nerves jittered. Pride. That was what I saw in him. Ambition too. Beneath the obvious I saw the boy he had once described, who must have ached to belong to this backstabbing fae world. He wet his lips, no doubt tasting his elusive acceptance.

  Deep wounds only festered if they were left untreated. Rook’s could use a smear of Neosporin.

  Looking at him, I hoped I wasn’t staring into my future. I had daddy issues. Hell, I had mommy issues too. Who didn’t? But I had to believe I could let go of my anger where the first was concerned and smooth bumps in the second before it was too late. Rook wasn’t looking to heal. Maybe if I…

  No. Rook was not my problem. Smile and wave, grab Mom then burn rubber getting home. That was the plan. No pit stops in Redemptionville. You had to want to be saved. No one could want it for you. Change wouldn’t stick if you built Teflon walls around yourself. Nope. Fixing him was his job.

  “Princess.”

  I continued chewing my bottom lip.

  “Princess?”

  Claws pierced the meat of my thigh. I bit down hard to stop the scream trapped in my throat and glared at Diode, who cut his eyes toward the waiting consuls.

  Oh. Yeah. Princess.

  That would be me.

  I corrected my slouch and tried sounding solemn. “Yes?”

  “The case made on your behalf has its merits,” Liosliath allowed. “You may be in grave danger. We have granted others temporary pardons from their duties under similar circumstances. Also, we feel that in light of your upbringing, formal training would not go amiss before you ascend to the throne. Your husband can see to that.

  “We have decided to grant you one year to prepare yourself for your new position. We will set your coronation date one year from today. During that time, your husband will rule in your stead as Prince Regent of Faerie.”

  “Do you find those terms agreeable?” Daibhidh asked with grim resolve.

  “I do.” Freedom loomed so close I could taste tomorrow’s breakfast burrito.

  “Then we are all in agreement,” the Huntsman boomed.

  “I do have one last question.” I kept my voice level. “When will my mother be returned to me?”

  The consuls shrugged in unison.

  “That is a civil matter,” Liosliath said. Daibhidh agreed. “Your husband has those details.”

  The tiny drop of pity I had felt for Rook evaporated. A civil matter, they said. Ask my husband, they said. They didn’t care. Not about Mom’s heal
th or her wellbeing or her happiness. She was a human whose life mattered less to them than the pixies my father kept jarred.

  How could I learn to care for this realm or its politics when neither cared anything for me?

  Chapter 30

  My knees lasted a dozen steps away from the Halls of Summer’s watery portal before collapsing. One minute I was walking with my fingers clutching Diode’s ruff, the next I hit the ground.

  Rook tugged me to my feet and slung his arm around my waist. “It’s over.”

  “No.” I resented how I leaned against him. “It’s just beginning.”

  As much as I wanted to pull away, I wanted to escape from the consuls and their Watchers more. I let him help me into the relative safety of Spring before slipping from his grasp and walking alone.

  Diode padded beside me, his thick brow furrowed and his long tail marking time behind him.

  No one spoke. Preserving our tentative peace meant keeping our mouths shut.

  A trick of time sped our crossing through Spring. Maybe I was too lost in my thoughts to notice until the slap of frigid winds across my cheeks stung me into alertness. We had arrived in Winter. Suddenly, I was glad I hadn’t changed from my protective clothes.

  Rook’s icy home was invisible amid the whirling snowflakes until I stumbled over a path leading to its door. The calmness that had insulated me for the past several hours shattered as my fist hit the wood.

  Rook caught my wrist. “Stop before you break your hand.”

  “Open it,” I snarled.

  “I can’t.” He glanced overhead. “The premises are enchanted. I keyed the spell to Bháin before I left. He knows we’re here. Be patient. Give him time to reach the door before you break it down.”

  Diode bumped his broad head against my hip. Even in his silence, he was siding with Rook.