“What kind of trouble?”
“One of those fae bastards killed a hunter is what I heard. Some nobleman’s daughter there for a birthday hunt. They’re keeping it quiet, but my cousin works the stables. Says the whole place is locked down. No hunts going on until they figure out what happened.”
“It killed her?” The third man makes a disgusted sound. “Gods, I thought those places were supposed to be safe.”
“Safe?” The first man snorts. “Nothing is safe around those things. Collar or no collar. Wards or no wards. Sooner or later, one will get free … and then we’re all dead.”
“What happened to the fae? The one that did it?”
“Put down, I expect. What else would they do with it? Can’t exactly keep it, can they? Not if it managed to break free of all the wards that keep them under control. If it’s tasted human blood, then it’ll want more. You know how animals like that are.”
At my knee, the fae has gone completely still. His breathing has changed. His posture is still subservient, but the air around him is charged. The hair rises on the back of my neck.
“Shame about the girl. What was she? Eighteen? Nineteen?”
“Twenty-one. Birthday hunt like I said. First time out, and she got the one that snaps.”
“Gods. Her poor family.”
I wrap my hands around my tea to hide the tremor in them.
Does my father think I’m dead?
Has Brennan given up searching for me?
“They should burn the whole place down,” the first man says. “Fae hunts.” He shakes his head. “Sick business, if you ask me. It’s not natural.”
“Good money, though.”
“Not worth it. Not when this is what happens.”
They fall silent, lost in their own thoughts, while I sit there and try to remember how to breathe.
A subtle touch on my leg has me turning. The fae gives a small tilt of his head toward the stairs and I stand. He rises to his feet, and follows me across the room and upstairs. Once we’re inside, he bolts the door behind us and lets the glamour drop.
“My father thinks I’m dead.” I whirl to face him. “Everyone I?—”
“Good.”
I stare at him.
“If they think you’re dead, they will be hunting for a fae alone. Not one walking two steps behind its master.” He moves to the window, looking out at the street below. “They won’t see me. They’ll see you. And that gives me time.”
“Time forwhat?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Tell me!”
His shoulders shift, but he doesn’t turn. Back to ignoring me again. I drop onto the edge of the bed.
My father thinks I’m dead. Brennan and Wil think I’mdead. Nella?—
I look at him standing by the window, silhouetted against the light shining through it. He turns his head, and the light catches the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his throat where the collar used to sit.
I don’t know anything about him beyond the fact he’s fae, and was supposed to be hunted to his death. I know nothing about where he came from, or how long he was caged. I don’t even know whether he has a name. In my head, I’ve been calling him the fae, the creature,it—the same words everyone uses for something that isn’t a person. Only moments ago, I made him kneel while I fed him.
Is it any wonder he’s angry and violent?
