Shona Husk: Lord of the Hunt

Exile was supposed to be a lighter sentence, a social death instead of the slow death sentence of banishment and becoming a Grey. But with the power shift coming, there would be many asking for the King’s favor to lift an exile and save a relative.

She’d make that opportunity. Somehow.

She took a step back. Don’t turn your back on the King, as that’s rude. Never turn your back to the Queen, as she’ll stab you.

Her mother’s voice rang in her memory. There were so many ways to misstep. Beneath her feet, the grass was soft; leaves rustled overhead and the whispers were continuing. Now they knew who she was. Part of her mystery was already gone.

Another step, she was almost out of the chamber.

The tiniest breath escaped, but she didn’t let herself relax. Not yet—not until she’d fled the wolves’ luscious den. She kept her chin up and pretended she couldn’t hear the giggles the Ladies didn’t bother to hide.

She wanted to be alone to think and plan her next move. She cast her gaze over the chamber again, keeping it cool, as though she outranked them all and everything had gone according to her plan. Fake it.

Faking it was her specialty. She faked human all the time.

With a final step she was free. That had been way worse than any high school dance.

She walked down a corridor made of tree trunks as if she knew where she was going. Where was she going?

Her bedroom was in the castle, under the leafy roof, but she’d spent far too long in there already waiting until she’d been officially introduced. Now that had happened, she was free to roam. She stopped walking and glanced around. The corridor was empty except for a few shadow servants drifting around, featureless shadows that served the Court. She shivered and backed away as one came near. She didn’t want to be inside. She needed blue sky and sunlight.

What she really wanted was to go home, but Prince Felan had told her she couldn’t leave Court. He’d had the decency to stop by her room for a few moments before her introduction. He’d warned her about getting on the Queen’s bad side and given her a pile of wooden coins to get her started, along with some extra clothing. And at the same time he had warned her not to be close to him, as it could jeopardize her chances of getting the pardon from his father—things were changing and people were on edge.

They hadn’t looked on edge to her. They’d looked ready to party, like she’d stepped into an alternate history where everyone was in their twenties and fancy dresses that showed too much skin were all the rage. And her parents wanted to come back here to live?

She was leaving as soon as she could. She missed the movies and the mall, the beach and the feel of sand between her toes, even if she couldn’t swim and had no intention of learning. That amount of moving water freaked her out, like it did all fairies. She hadn’t realized how good she had it in the mortal world. She’d gone to school and done everything a mortal child would. Her parents hadn’t wanted her to feel as though she was missing out on anything, and they had filled her head with tales from Court, real fairy tales. But none of those stories had prepared her for the harsh beauty or the cold glances.

She kept walking, determined to find an exit and too afraid to ask a shadow servant. Her feet moved faster; she wanted out of this never-ending castle—now. She saw a door and walked quickly toward it. Suddenly everything felt too bright, too sharp, as if nature were on steroids. Her stomach tightened and turned. As she stepped outside, she let the illusion that she was keeping it together slide. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

Taryn glanced over her shoulder, but no one had followed her. Good . She slipped off her shoes, gathered her skirts, and ran. The delicate fabric swished around her legs, and for a moment she was free. She spun in a circle, just glad to be out from the scrutiny, and kept going. She didn’t know where she was running to, only that the further away she got, the lighter she felt.

Well, that was not entirely true. The further away she got from the giant tree castle, the less her blood hummed with the power of Annwyn. It was like being drunk and high and sober all at the same time. Inside the castle, her skin had tingled, but out here, her body felt like hers again—or at least more like hers.

She slowed to a walk and let the green, layered skirt fall from her hands. Her ballet flats—or the fairy equivalent—dangled from her fingers. Seriously, who put emeralds on shoes? For a moment she tried to imagine their faces if she’d walked in wearing jeans and a Florence and the Machine T-shirt. She laughed, then stopped. It wasn’t her laugh. It was, but it sounded different, as if just being here was changing her.

Her feet stopped as if she’d hit an invisible wall.

Slowly she turned back to the castle. Alien and beautiful and terrifying and bristling with power she didn’t understand, yet this was where she belonged. She was fairy, not mortal. Even though she’d spent all of her life in the mortal world, she knew her mother had slipped back to the outer reaches of Annwyn to give birth, alone, since her father couldn’t cross the veil. Her life would’ve been very different if she’d been born in the mortal world. She’d be a changeling, and while not beyond the reaches of the Court, maybe Felan wouldn’t have demanded her presence.

How long did she have before Felan claimed the throne?

Her mother had told her to ease in and make acquaintances, to move softly and gently so no one knew what it was she wanted. It made her want to scream with frustration. Her parents’ lives weren’t a game. She refused to let the fear and pressure get to her. She could do this.

She stepped off the grassy path and into a small alcove where gray rocks pushed through the grass and were wrapped by tree roots to form seats. She slumped onto the seat and let her shoes fall to the grass as she cradled her head in her hands, plucking at the carefully made coils in her hair so more fell around her shoulders.

How was she going to smile and play their games when the whole time she’d be thinking of what would happen if she failed?

Yet she couldn’t hide out here; she was going to have to face those stares day after day after day. Her eyes burned. She sniffed and squeezed her eyes closed. One day and she was already falling apart. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she let them fall, taking the tension and stress with them.

She’d suck it up before she went back. She wouldn’t give the Court the chance to see her undone. In front of them, she’d be snobby and look down her nose at those who hadn’t tasted life with the mortals. Yeah. She knew things they didn’t. She could blow bubbles with bubble gum, do calculus, and write an essay on Macbeth . She choked out laughter. Some of the people here had probably met Shakespeare. Who was she kidding? The pretty people here probably never went to the mortal world unless it was to procreate.

A lean white dog with red tips on its ears and tail wandered in to her alcove. She quickly wiped away her tears and held out her hand. The dog trotted over for a sniff, and then a second dog rounded the corner. How many were there? She stood up, but before she had time to fear the dogs, the gray-eyed man walked into the alcove.

He leaned against a tree and smiled, but it was carefully neutral, as though they were still in the castle. “Now why would a Lady just back at Court be so sad?”

She searched his smoky gray eyes for a hint at his intent, but saw no malice.

“You leave a lover behind?” He took a step closer and the alcove seemed to grow smaller around them.

Who was this Lord? His clothing wasn’t brightly colored and it didn’t glitter with gems, and yet this close, she could see that the fabric was covered in delicate stitches that shimmered in the light. The cuffs of his shirt were undone, the ties dangling. His dark brown hair was pulled back, but strands fell around his face, softening his otherwise sharp cheekbones and nose. He was beautiful even by fairy standards—and he’d followed her out here.