“Kaelren,” she said, and my name in her mouth was a weapon. “The failed prince graces our court again.”
I didn’t bow. I’d learned that lesson already. “Merithra.”
“Your Grace,” Thessaly corrected softly, but her mother waved dismissal.
“He’s earned the right to rudeness. Haven’t you, carved one?”
Elle stepped forward before I could respond, and the entire court went still. The Duchess’s attention fixed on her like a hawk spotting movement.
“You’re the human,” Merithra said. Not a question.
“I’m Elle,” she corrected, chin raised in that defiance that was going to get her killed one day. “I have a name.”
“Names have power here, child. Careful how freely you give yours.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Your Grace.” The title dripped sarcasm, but somehow Elle made it sound respectful enough to avoid offense.
Merithra laughed, delighted. “Oh, I like her. She has teeth.” Her gaze shifted to me. “Different from your usual type.”
“We’re not—” I started.
“Together? No, of course not. The corruption in your marks would kill her if you tried. But you want to be.” She stood, descending from her throne with predatory grace. “I can smell it on both of you. That desperate want that can never be satisfied.”
Elle’s marks flared at her collarbones, light pulsing. “You said you had information. Something about a convergence.”
“Straight to business. How refreshingly human.” Merithra circled Elle slowly, studying her like a specimen. “Your marks are Root-born but not Root-bound. Fascinating. You’re becoming something unprecedented.”
“Everyone keeps saying that. No one explains what it means.”
“Because no one knows. You’re writing new rules as you transform.” The Duchess stopped in front of Elle. “But I know what’s hunting you. And it’s not just the Crown.”
“What else?” I demanded.
Merithra’s smile was sharp. “The Wild Hunt has been called.”
The great hall erupted in whispers. Even Thessaly looked shocked.
“That’s not possible,” I said. “The Hunt only rides for—”
“For those who threaten the realm’s fundamental nature. Yes.” Merithra returned to her throne. “Someone has convinced the Hunters that your little human will destroy everything if she completes her transformation.”
“Who?” Elle asked.
“Now that’s the interesting question. The Crown wants to control you, not destroy you. So who benefits from your death?”
I thought of Eltrien’s knowing looks, his careful words about patterns. But no—he’d helped us. Hadn’t he?
“Tonight, you’re under my protection,” Merithra continued. “The Hunt cannot enter the Autumn Court without invitation. But tomorrow, when you leave…” She shrugged elegantly. “Well. The Hunt never fails.”
“There must be a way to call them off,” Vashael said from where she stood with the rest of our crew.
“Only one. Prove the threat has passed. Which means either the human dies, or she completes her transformation in a way that doesn’t threaten the realm.”
“How?” Elle’s voice was steady, but I could see her hands trembling slightly. Peeble had gone very still on her shoulder—never a good sign.
“That, my dear, is what we’re going to discuss over dinner.”
“First, let me show you to your quarters,” Thessaly said, gesturing for us to follow. “You’ll want to… prepare.”
