“It’ll be fine,” Maurice says. “You know he’s not mad at you. I don’t think hegetsmad at you.”
I huff and don’t reply. Yeah, that’s not true at all.
Chapter Two
Vladimir
Theareaaroundthewarehouse is quiet, even so early in the night. A cool breeze snakes down the street, but I don’t react to that at all. The Huntsman doesn’t even appear to notice it. He turns his unreadable gaze on me once we are several feet from the warehouse door and crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“Your turn,” he begins.
I bite back a growl. I am obedient in all things—a faithful servant of the Hunt—but the way he speaks about Grant, the way he looks at him, always has me on edge.
The fact that he never says Grant’s name does not help. It is as though the Huntsman does not see him as a person at all.
“What about him?”
“Why did you turn him?”
I shake my head. “I do not know.” It is honest, even if I can lie, when the Huntsman cannot. I do not know what possessed me. Something drew me to where he was, and when I found him, when I knew he would die without it…
I offered him another chance. One, I fear, that has left him with much less freedom than either of us anticipated.
The Huntsman is still staring at me as though waiting for a better explanation.
“It was a lapse in judgement,” I say. “I do not know why I did it.”
He makes a quiet sound, and I am not sure whether he believes me or not. I am not trying to lie. I do not know why he is asking this, not right now.
And on top of all that, I am not certain why I am expected to focus. I have hardly been able to concentrate on anything since Grant tripped the wards upon his return last night. When I opened the door and he looked so scared, it was all I could do not to sweep him into my arms and lock usbothaway where no one or nothing could touch him.
He does not want that. He does not want my protection.
I am not foolish enough to think he does not need it. Not now, after all this.
“Keep him close,” the Huntsman says, “and begin his training. If he is to be one of us, he should be ready.”
Training? My thoughts stutter to a halt. One of us? That is not what I want. It is not ever what I have wanted.
The only thing Iwantis for Grant to be safe. It is the only true desire I have felt since I was turned. Even my dedication to the Hunt after receiving the Huntsman’s blessing pales in comparison to this.
“His… training?”
The Huntsman gives me a vaguely quizzical look before he sighs. “You do not want him to do this.”
“I… No, I think it would not be best for him.”
“Well, that is perhaps something you should have considered during that lapse in judgement, Vladimir,” the Huntsman replies. “He is connected to you and, through you, to me. Do you still serve the Hunt?”
“Yes.” Even if I am uncertain what leaving the Hunt would do to Grant, that is not why I remain. I understand loyalty. I do have a desire to help, in some small way, even if that feeling is no longer quite so strong as it should be.
“Then so does he. I expect to see progress.”
He sweeps off as though the conversation is done, and I suppose it is. I suppose it was not really a conversation at all and that I do not believe anyone ever has one with him. Why would they? He has no interest in us beyond our value to the Hunt, which is not to say I believe he does not care. Rather, he keeps his distance, and I should remember to keep mine.
I turn back towards the warehouse. Maurice and Jeremiah are both still angry with me, for the fact I never told them that the Huntsman can sense the bonds between us all. I lack any guilt over that. Fae magic is of the earth, but it excels in creating bonds and manipulating them.
Some guilt gnaws at me over the other part I did not say, the part they are truly upset about. That because we have the Huntsman’s blessing—a borrowed piece of his own magic—we can form more permanent bonds with other people should wewish to. That, under the right circumstances, we may not need to wish for it at all.
