“What is the difference between the Wild Hunt stories we’re told, and the Nightwild Guard?”
“The Wild Hunt is when the Courts ride for sport.Wekeep order between those courts. When disputes couldn’t be settled by other means, we settled them. If something threatened the borders—fae who’d broken oaths, creatures that crawled up from the deep places—we were the ones sent to deal with it.”
“We are hunters,” Sorel says. “But not the way humans make us out to be. We hunt what needs hunting. And we protect what needs protecting.”
“And Cairn leads you.”
“Cairnbuiltus.” Therin’s eyes flick toward the stairs. “The Guard itself existed before him, but he shaped it into what it became. We are his, and he is ours.”
FORTY-SIX
CAIRN
I stopat the top of the stairs. Below me, the inn’s common room hums with warmth and noise. Laughter reaches me, and I scan around, eyes pausing on a table near the fire.
Therin is sprawled in his chair like he owns the place, Serath and Kaelith either side of him, Vessara and Sorel across. Tankards are scattered across the table’s surface, and the remains of their meals pushed to one side. Sitting among them, her back to the stairs, is Alleria.
She’s leaning forward, listening to something Therin is saying. He’s telling a story. I can tell from the way he’s gesturing, the theatrical sweep of his hands that means he’s embellishing it for his audience. Alleria’s elbows are on the table, her chin propped on her hands.
When he finishes talking, Serath laughs hard enough that she has to wipe her eyes. And Alleria?—
Shelaughs.
She throws her head back, shoulders shaking, and a dimple flashes into view on her left cheek. She looks young, happy, and at ease among fae who, a month ago, were holding her prisoner.
I should go back upstairs before they see me. Instead, I continue down the stairs and cross the room. Therin sees me first. His eyebrows rise, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, well. Look who’s decided to join us. We were just telling Alleria about the time you got thrown out of the Summer Court for insulting the prince.”
The others turn. Vessara nods, Sorel grunts something that might be a greeting, and Serath smiles and pulls out the empty chair on her right.
Alleria looks up. The smile doesn’t fade, but something in her eyes shifts, a flicker of uncertainty at my presence, maybe. Her cheeks are flushed from the fire. She looks soft and sweet.
“I didn’t insult him. I corrected him.”
“You told him his understanding of battle tactics wascharmingly provincial,” Sorel points out.
“It was.”
“Maybe, but you did it in front of the entire court.”
“If he didn’t want to be corrected publicly, he shouldn’t have been wrong publicly.”
Therin laughs. “See? Charming as ever. Sit. Drink. Pretend you’re not imagining all the ways you can kill everyone in the room.”
I sigh and take the chair Serath offered. It puts me across from Alleria.
Therin grins at Alleria. “He does that, you know. Threatens everyone without speaking. Very charming at diplomatic functions. Probably why we weren’t invited to many.”
Alleria’s smile widens slightly, that dimple appearing again. “How many ways are there?”
“More than you’d think.” I’ve answered before I can stop myself.
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a spark of amusement inthem that I’ve never seen before. She holds my gaze for a second longer, then looks away.
The serving girl appears at my elbow, and I order ale without really thinking about it. When she leaves, the conversation has moved on. I let it wash over me, only half-listening as I scan the room.
Alleria asks questions when she doesn’t understand something. Vessara and Serath answer most of them, with Therin taking the rest. When Alleria laughs at something he says, the sound is loose and easy.
