“I see.” I take a sip of wine. It’s good. Warm and spiced, chasing the chill from my bones. Nella cups her hands around hers, while Brennan and Wil lean against the wall, their own drinks in hand.
Once our goblets are empty, Huntmaster Cowen stands. “Whenever you’re ready, my lady. I’ll show you the fae we’ve prepared for your afternoon.”
I set down my goblet, excitement stirring like butterflies in my stomach. “I’m ready now.”
“Then come.” He leads us around the side of the lodge to a fenced enclosure, reinforced with iron bars. Inside, chained to a post, is the fae.
My breath catches. All my life, I’ve heard stories about the fae. I’ve seen the trophies mounted on walls, listened to hunters boast about their kills over wine and roasted meat. But I’ve neverseenone before. I’ve never been this close to one of the creatures from legend.
It’s standing with its back to us and doesn’t turn when we approach. Its head is bowed, face hidden, but I’m certain it knows we’re here.
It’s taller than I thought it would be. Taller than any man I’ve seen, with skin the gray-green of lichen and hair falling past its shoulders in tangled ropes. An iron collar is locked around its throat, and rising from its skull are the most beautiful set of antlers. Twelve points, spreading wider than my arm span. They’re bone-white,huge, the kind of trophy that would dominate any wall.
Its stillness unsettles me. I came here to hunt an animal, and most animals pace in their cages. They snarl at the bars. This one stands like a cat waiting for the mouse to come out of hiding.Patient and utterly still, and I’m conscious of the way the guards inside the enclosure never turn their backs on it. Their hands rest on iron-tipped staves and the daggers at their belts, even though it’s collared and chained and can’t possibly hurt them.
“Impressive,” Brennan murmurs.
It is. Even collared and chained, there’s something about it. The height, the strange coloring, the spread of bone rising from its head. This is what I’ll be hunting.Thisis the trophy I will bring home to my father.
My heart beats faster. I want to move closer, examine it, but at the same time, everything inside me is screaming to back away, keep my distance.
“Are you ready?” Huntmaster Cowen asks.
I nod, and we head back toward the lodge.
There are two men waiting near the hearth when we walk back inside, and Cowen introduces them as Aldric and Tommas. Our guides for the hunt. They explain the rules of the preserve while I try not to fidget.
“Once we release the quarry, it gets a small head start. It wouldn’t be much of a hunt if you caught it five minutes after riding out. It can move anywhere within the warded grounds, but cannot cross the boundary. Nothing collared can cross it.”
“The collar keeps it weak?” Brennan asks.
“It drains the magic right out of them. They can run. They can fight, if cornered, but they can’t do any of the things that make them dangerous.” It’s Tommas who answers. “They’re still fast and strong, though, so don’t let your guard down. And like any wild beast, if it sees an opportunity, it will attack.”
“What if we get separated?” I ask.
“Stay where you are.” Tommas meets my eyes. “We will find you.”
One of the Dell’s men brings me a bow and a quiver of iron-tipped arrows. The bow is well-made, with a smooth draw and good balance. There are fifteen arrows in the quiver.
Through the window, I watch the handlers lead the fae toward the tree line. Even from here, I can see how it moves. Its steps are fluid and unhurried. One of the handlers hooks a metal pole to the collar, forcing the fae to its knees. It goes down without resistance, yet still seems graceful. The second handler removes the chains on its wrists and ankles.
They both step back, and then the pole releases.
The fae doesn’t run. It rises, rolls its shoulders once, and without looking back, it walks into the forest.
“I’m surprised it didn’t attack its handlers,” Nella says.
“The fae was pushed inside the warded area, while the men remained outside. It couldn’t attack without causing itself a lot of pain,” Cowen explains. “Why don’t we go get you mounted up and ready to start.”
We’re led outside, and I’m directed to a gray mare with a white mane, while Nella gets a smaller brown gelding. She grips the reins tightly as she settles into the saddle.
“You don’t have to come. You could wait here where it’s warm. I know you don’t enjoy the hunts.”
“And miss this?” She tries to smile, but her lips tremble. “I’d never forgive myself for not being a part of your birthday.”
I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Stay close to me.”
We ride toward the tree line, with Aldric and Tommas in the lead, then me and Nella. Brennan and Wil bring up the rear. The trees close around us, and the canopy blocks out the sky, leaving us in green-tinged twilight. Our horses' hooves fall soft on the carpet of dead leaves, the sound swallowed almost as soon as it’s made.
