“That was millennia ago,” Silas said.
That didn’t answer my question. “Silas—”
“There’s one more thing you should know,” he interrupted.
Silas came to a stop, holding up a hand so I stilled next to him. He waited until we were even, then he looked into my eyes, scanning me like an X-ray. I felt like he was reading pieces of myself even I hadn’t discovered.
“What?” I asked.
“The people who killed the Fae.” Silas looked down, as if he couldn’t bear the sentiment about to spill out of his mouth. He pulled his gaze upward as if his very words were weighted by bricks. “They were Hunters. Every last one.”
I swallowed. Hard.
Because here I was, alone in the woods, with a Hunter.
Chapter 4
Storytime was over.
Silas’s recounting of history seemed to take something out of him, and as he continued on, nudging his horse deeper and deeper into the blackness ahead, every fiber in my being screamed for me to turn tail and head for the light. The actual sunlight.
I watched the Hunter’s broad, muscular back moving in time with the animal on which he rode, thinking it wasn’t at all unreasonable that men of his stature and skills would have the ability to murder Fae Queens en masse.
Silas was powerful. Sheathed in shadow. Mysterious and strong and deadly.
But I could also sense what it had cost Silas to admit to the faults and failures of his kind. Did he carry the weight of what his forefathers had done? Was he here now, trying to cure a curse as a way to make amends for the loss of those incredible queens?
There were layers and layers to Silas, and I knew I could dig at those layers with a lethal pickaxe and never scratch the surface. Until he let me.
I got the impression Silas didn’t let a lot of people in. A part of me felt like Silas had given me a precious gift—a peek into the window of his spirit, and I didn’t take it for granted, no matter how short a glimpse it was.
I wanted to thank him, to let him know that I wasn’t afraid of him—even if I should be. Any reply I might have given, however, was put on pause when we heard an aching sound echoing in the distance.
“Someone’s in trouble,” I said to Silas. “We need to help.”
Silas shook his head. His eyes were granite. His body was granite. His voice was granite.
Everything about this man had gone hard and stony. There was no warmth, no light, none of the humanity I’d sensed on that altar back in Manhattan. Despite all the warnings from Millie, I still believed this man to be capable of things like emotion and love, even against my better judgment. But right now, he was a locked chamber with no warmth at all.
“It’s likely a trap,” Silas said. “Do not fall for it.”
“But—”
“I’m asking you to trust me.”
“Idotrust you,” I said. “I’ve proven that. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Silence from him.
I matched his gaze. “Do you trustme?”
Those hard eyes watched me uneasily.
When Silas didn’t reply, I couldn’t be sure if his silence was a nod of affirmation or a polite way to say no, but I didn’t care. Someone was injured, and every instinct in me told me that my help was required.
“The whole reason I wanted to be a doctor was to help people,” I told Silas. “If I can’t do that, what’s the point?”
“Alessia, be reasonable.”
