He nods again, and I get the distinct feeling he knows exactly what I’m thinking and isn’t surprised at all. When he tilts his head in farewell, I get a strange, uncomfortable feeling.
Déjà vu.
Puca aren’t the only fae who can shapeshift. I know that, too. Some high fae—royalhigh fae—have powers they keep close, keep to themselves.
He sweeps out, heading for the door, and I find myself on my feet, Vlad looking up at me in surprise. “Be right back.” I leave before he can protest or anyone can ask. I don’t want to explain the whole thing. Not yet.
But I have a feeling…
He’s standing just outside the wards when I get to the door, so I close it behind me and step out into the night. When he simply looks at me, I leave the wards, too.
“I expected it would be a few more years before you came to me,” the Huntsman says. He’s wearing his glamour out here, but if I squint and try, I see the way his magic sneaks around the edge. “These events have accelerated everything.”
“Can you shapeshift into a deer?”
Direct questions are hard for the fae to avoid. Like the rest of them, he can’t lie.
To his credit, he doesn’t try to.
“Yes. A stag, rather, but yes.”
I see that, too. Like with Asher’s absent wolf, I’ve just not been able to recognise what’s been before me the entire time.
“You killed me.”
“You were driving.”
“You—”
“How else would the two of you have met?”
“You don’t trust the bonds?”
“The bonds do nothing alone, and particularly not for a human and a vampire. I would not have him spend eternity with no one by his side.”
I glance up at the house and a laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “You’ve beenmatchmakingthis entire time, haven’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. His human face struggles to hide emotions as well as its fae counterpart, though, and I see his irritation at being found out.
“Are you going to take the throne? From what Eirian said, you’ll need someone beside you, won’t you? Will Mor—”
“Enough, Grant,” he says, but not as sharply as I expect. I’ve overstepped, and I’m angry at him, but there’s nothing to be done about that here and now. “The court observes a sennight of mourning. Even the most rebellious of fae should respect that.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you have four more days with minimal fae mischief.” The Huntsman gives me a tight, unpractised smile. “Enjoy your time with him. Cement your bond, if you must. But be prepared to fight for everything you hold dear once this respite is done.”
With that, he walks away, and I let him, my head spinning. It’s not just about what he told Vlad, about the bonds. He’s been shifting us into position—Paxton to Jeremiah, Maurice to Njáll, and perhaps he was warier about Asher and Quinn, but he never stood in their way, either.
I bound back up into the house, which goes suspiciously quiet when I walk in. All gazes swivel to me when I walk into the living room, but I ignore them and drop down next to Vlad again.
I’ll tell them all soon, but I want to talk to Vlad about it first. About the fact that the Huntsman ran me off the road, for one. Dickhead.
“So…” Maurice says, leaning around Vlad to look at me. “You both worked it out, then?”
I take one of Vlad’s hands between mine. Paxton makes a soft sound, just out of my line of sight. “Yes. Meet my new—and last—boyfriend.”
Jeremiah snorts and the rest laugh as Maurice says, “Boyfriend?” He sounds incredulous.
