“Aye,” Helios said. “They provided us a good chase before we buried their sorry bones. Still, it took us far off course. We saw your fire and hoped for company and a meal to share.”
“I’m surprised you deigned to dine with us at all. Drass and his merry band of mercenaries tend to think themselves above our ilk.”
“I don’t see why. We all work for the same man, don’t we?”
The hunter assessed Helios one more time, then looked over his shoulder to exchange a glance with the man holding the crossbow. Teryn held his breath as the camp fell under a tense silence. He sure as hell hoped Helios knew what he was doing. His lies sounded believable to Teryn’s ears, but still…
Finally, the hunter lowered his crossbow with a nod. “We’ll share a meal.”
The other man sheathed his sword and stepped to the side. “Brothers,” he said with a nod. Teryn didn’t know if he’d imagined the mocking lilt to the man’s voice, but he returned the greeting just the same.
“I don’t like this,” Lex whispered to Teryn as they followed Helios the rest of the way into the clearing.
Teryn ignored him but he couldn’t agree more. He could almost feel the dark glares burning into his back as they tethered their horses. He could hear suspicion pitched into every whisper as they approached the campfire. No, they weren’t amongst brothers at all, and Teryn wondered if the hunters felt the same. If so, they might as well have stumbled into a nest of vipers.
22
Teryn barely tasted his meal as he ate. Every bite of pheasant settled like ash in his stomach. But he kept on eating. Kept filling his mouth with one slow bite after the next if only to keep from having to talk. Thankfully, Helios took the brunt of that burden, joking with the men and regaling them with hunting tales so convincing, Teryn entertained the possibility that this had been his true identity all along. Whenever a question was directed at Teryn, he kept his answers brief. And when the same happened to Lex, particularly when he was caught staring at the caged unicorn, Helios interjected before he could speak. “This one’s mute.”
One of the hunters, a man Teryn had learned was named Sam, began to gesture with his hands.
“And dumb,” Helios added. “Hunting’s the only thing he’s keen at.”
Lex started to scowl but seemed to think the better of it, adopting a vacant expression instead. Teryn could see evidence of his indignation in the red flush that crawled up his neck.
After dinner, the mood became far more relaxed. Helios’ act was so convincing that the man who’d held the crossbow—Hammond—insisted they stay the night. After that, bottles of rum were passed around, and the mood relaxed even further. Lex retired to his bedroll early, stomping the whole way there. Berol too abandoned Teryn, fleeing the incessant chatter and taking a perch in one of the trees. Meanwhile, Teryn remained at the campfire. Listening. Watching. He studied the men, their behavior, their words, trying to glean as much information as he could. He knew better than to rely on Helios alone. The hunters were all in various states of dress, most down to their tunics. Others wore heavily armed bandoliers while a few remained bundled in greatcoats. He caught sight of a sigil on their coat sleeves—a black crescent moon on an indigo background—the same sigil that was on the paper Helios had. He wondered if it belonged to Duke Morkai, the man Helios had mentioned as having a monopoly on the unicorn hunt.
As the night wore on, it was safe to say the men were the most unpleasant company he’d ever kept. Not in their treatment of him, but in the hard looks in their eyes, the sharpness of their words, their unsavory topics of conversation. Blood. Violence. Their treatment of women. It only served to further unsettle the meal in his stomach.
Teryn accepted the rum whenever it passed his way but he did all his drinking in act, determined to keep his focus sharp. Though, time and again, his attention slid to the caged creature. There were six cages in total, but only one was occupied. The unicorn inside was nothing like the enormous white one Teryn had confronted that morning. This one seemed weak, wobbling on its legs. His chest felt tight as he watched it, unable to tear his eyes away?—
“I know that look.” Teryn startled as the youngest man of the party, James, sat next to him. “That’s envy, isn’t it? I take it you didn’t have the best luck during your contract.”
Teryn grunted his response. He was going for a Helios-like persona. Man of few words. Gruff. It was a bit nauseating impersonating a man he so disliked, but if that was what it took to keep a low profile, he’d do it.
James handed him a bottle, and Teryn accepted it. The liquid brushed his closed lips before he handed it back. “Shame,” James said. “You should’ve been out here last year. There were unicorns everywhere. We’d spend a month in one place and catch dozens. Now, we barely last three weeks before deeming an area overhunted. We had only five horns for harvest last night.Five. Can you believe that?”
Teryn gave him a sympathetic look as if he understood the struggle keenly, but his mind snagged on the wordharvest.
“Only three were live kills because the others had been taken manually andthat oneisn’t ready yet.” He nodded at the caged unicorn. “Although I hope he makes it long enough for the next harvest. I hate doing it manually, you know?” He glanced at Teryn, a meaningful look in his eyes, but Teryn couldn’t fathom what he was trying to convey. Part of him wanted to remain silent, but the other half felt as if he were on the brink of something important.
Infusing his tone with an air of bored disbelief, he asked, “You hate doing it manually?”
James shrank down as if embarrassed. “Yes, don’t you? The way they…you know. And the noises they make.” He paled and took a deep drink from the bottle.
Teryn lifted a shoulder as if the matter was no bother to him. Inside, he was bothered indeed. What noises? What was he referring to? Was it…removing the unicorn horns? Helios had mentioned a special method but had yet to elaborate.
“I’m always the one holding them down,” James said, lowering his voice. “Never the one wielding the knife. I think holding the knife would offer a…I don’t know. A distraction.”
“A distraction?” Teryn echoed.
“Not like the monster is any better. At least then all I have to do is cut open the cages and try not to get blood on my boots.”
A chill ran down Teryn’s spine, one that sent his heart thudding. It took all his control to keep his composure. “The monster.”
James took a deep drink of rum and handed the bottle to Teryn. Keeping his eyes fixed on the other man, Teryn pretended to drink again. James’ eyes went unfocused. “I saw it today,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “No one believes me, but I did. I was checking traps when it plodded by. You know what that means, right?” James leaned in close. “It’s claiming our prey outside of the harvest. Which is unfair. If we don’t collect, we don’t get paid.”
Teryn made an indignant noise, nodding along.
