“Hunt? Like for an animal?”
“Who’s to say?” He rests his hands on his enormous stomach, drumming his fingers as he considers. “Could be. Could also be for some lost treasure. Or for nothing at all, some nonsense riddle those fae like so much. Nothing more than a way to taunt and torment the desperate masses.”
He’s not wrong.
I wouldn’t trust a word from a fae monarch’s mouth without ample proof of its truth. They’re known for their games, their tricks, their half-speak and sideways sense of morality.
But a fae queen offering a bounty like this, if it were real…
“How much?”
Pytri laughs again. “That they haven’t said. Apparently she’s opening her court in three days’ time to all who’d like to join the hunt, and will dangle her boon before them then.”
“Are you going?”
His gray eyes sparkle. “How could I not?”
Wheels turn in my mind, terrible temptations and possibilities.
Myron has said nothing about this. If I know my employer—and Goddess knows I do after all this time—he would have had me on it the moment he heard the faintest rumor.
If he doesn’t know, if he can’t send me to Faerie on his behalf, if I can sneak away for a few days and…
The back of my neck prickles with the keen, distinctive sense of being watched.
Not entirely unexpected, given we’re in the middle of a few dozen drunken patrons. A quick sweep of the room reveals nothing of concern.
Exhaustion, probably. Just exhaustion throwing my instincts off-kilter.
This is a safe realm, a safe village, and there’s next to no chance I’m about to be set upon by assassins in the middle of one of its most popular drinking establishments.
But the prickle of unease won’t leave, even as I turn my attention back to Pytri.
“And you think you’ve got a shot at winning this bounty?”
He belches again. “Are you implying I don’t?”
“When’s the last time you went after a score like this yourself, rather than sending an underling?”
For all his faults, the ogre has a sense of humor, and no illusions about his own physical prowess. “Who’s to say I won’t send one of them after this, as well? Keep the lion’s share for myself and toss some up-and-comer a coin.”
“I doubt she’d accept it, as canny as these fae queens are.”
“Bah!” Pytri says, waving away the concern. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“We?”
“Why not? If you’d like, the two of us can—”
“I’d gnaw off my own wing before I’d work for you, Pytri.”
He grins, shameless. “You can’t fault me for offering.”
“No, I can’t.”
The barkeep brings two more ales and drops them down on the table. We each grab one and take deep swigs.
Madness, this entire idea.
