I start to eat—warm vegetable stew, fresh bread, and plenty of Fae Wine. Domanikk drains his glass in three long swallows and immediately reaches for the jug again, sloshing more into his glass.
Throughout it all, while we chat between ourselves, I feel Reth’s eyes on me. His gaze is intense, unwavering, almost burning into the side of my face. I try to ignore it, try to focus on the conversation happening around me, but I can’t shake the awareness of his attention.
“Did you enjoy meeting Quinn?” Domanikk asks.
“Yes. We chatted about his life here, his Gift.” I pause, glancing towards Reth. “I’ve never heard of a Horse Whisperer before.”
Reth doesn’t look up from his plate. “When we find them, we kill them.”
No inflection. No hesitation.
“Quinn seems harmless enough.”
“Quinn is an anomaly.” He tears into a piece of bread, his sharp white teeth flashing “Annoying, but useful.”
“Why kill the others?”
“Too dangerous.” He takes a slow sip of his wine. “Imagine that bastard King wielding an army of Horse Whisperers against us. We would never have survived as long as we have.”
The firelight flickers across his face. I set my fork down, weighing my next words.
“Does he know you have Quinn?”
The question hangs between us. We’ve barely spoken more than a few clipped words to each other since I’ve been here, and now this—an actual conversation.
“He doesn’t, and he won’t.” His jaw tenses. His eyes dart to me, sharp and pointed.
A piece of carrot lodges in my throat. I cough, eyes watering, and I grab my wine glass, gulping it down. The liquid burns my throat, but at least I can breathe again.
I know too much now. He’ll never let me leave.
The thought crystallises, cold and certain.
We eat the rest of the meal in silence.
After a while, I let my gaze drift down the table. Rawson is leaning close to a beautiful Equitae with long brown hair, gesturing wildly with his hands, making her laugh. Others are laughing too, joking, kissing. The firelight catches on their faces, warm and alive.
Something shifts in my chest, subtle but undeniable. This place—with all its violence and danger—has started to feel familiar in a way that unsettles me.
The constant tension, the ever-present threat—somehow it’s all become routine. Like I could belong here.
If things were different. If I’d had a choice. If I hadn’t been dragged here, kicking and screaming.
Domanikk’s hand slides under the table and squeezes my thigh. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, his movements loose and uncoordinated.
“You all right?” He leans over, his breath warm and wine-sweet against my ear.
“Can we just leave?” I whisper back, shooting a glance at Reth.
“Excuse us.” He leans towards Reth with an exaggerated wink. “More games to play.”
Then he rises, pulling me to my feet. His arm comes around my waist, tugging me close—though I’m fairly certain he’s using me to stay upright.
We stumble across the clearing towards his tent. His hand slides down to grab my rear, and I knock it away.
That’s when I catch it—a glimpse of piercing ice-blue eyes following our every move.
Domanikk is so drunk when we get back to the tent that he collapses fully clothed on the bed and is snoring within minutes.
