“Why?”
Lysandra pushes a lock of hair behind one of her pink horns. “Yes, why do you want to know?”
The faun is no fool. She can see my rage and is properly wary.
I spread my hands. “I’m not here to murder anyone. I just want to have a chat with them about manners.”
“I don’t know who said what,” the librarian says, crossing her arms and tapping one hoofed foot on the hardwoods. “Colette didn’t tell me. She just left suddenly.”
I raise an eyebrow and study her face. Her gaze is steady, and I don’t think she’s lying to protect anyone, but I can’t be sure. I like Lysandra. I respect her work, and it’s obvious from the way Halvard and Rychell speak of her that she’s a wonderful sort. But I wouldn’t put it past her to lie about this to keep trouble out of her bookish realm here.
“Well, if you find out, will you please send me word at Rychell and Halvard’s house? I promise you that I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
“You have no idea what I would or would not do for my friend and favorite author.”
I have to chuckle, some of my anger abating. “True. But will you? Please?”
“To calm you down, I will sayyes. But I reserve the right to change my mind.”
“Honest to a fault, are you?”
She lifts her chin and eyes me sharply. “I am.”
It’s all I’m going to get, so I nod and leave before I rip someone’s throat out accidentally.
Once I’m finallyin the forest, I remove my cloak and boots and begin to hunt. An hour passes. The moon glimmers through the snow-draped oaks and pines to light the stream running east to west. Manyscents drift through the cold air. Rabbits. Too small for tonight. I need something to give me a proper chase. Mice. A fox. But then the scent of a deer perks me up. A cluster of evergreen brush shifts past the stream. Antlers show in the moon’s glow.
I chase after the stag, my movements easier and more graceful than when I’m not Hungry. It feels good to breathe deep and drive hard into the night after the beast. Once I have him, I kill him quickly and with thanks.
The meal is good and I lose myself in satisfaction for a while.
Then another scent has me on my feet, scanning the area with my vampiric vision. My heart flies into my throat. I know that smell—like a too-sweet citrus fruit mixed with ash.
It’s her. My betrothed.
Chapter 16
Archer
Ilay the stag’s body down, whispering another prayer of thanks, then creep forward. The scent is faint, and the wind is picking up, wiping the traces from the night. I try to follow it, but I lose it completely back across the stream.
Was I only imagining her scent?
I swallow, throw my cloak over my shoulders and put my boots back on. My heart hammers my ribs, and I keep looking back at the forest as I stride quickly into Leafshire Cove, heading for the tavern. I definitely need a strong drink.
The thought of Valeria being here near all these good folks is horrifying. If she believes as the public does about Colette and me…
I shake my head. Perhaps I’m being ridiculous. I was simply worried about her in the back of my mind and it brought the scent memory up. I don’t usually have a strong scent memory—blame my goblin genes—but perhaps that’s what this instance was. Maybe everything is going to be fine.
I sit at the bar top and Grumlin greets me. The crowd is half what it was last time I was in here and the conversation is at a comfortable low buzz.
“Same as last time, Master Darkheart?” he asks.
“Aye. Thank you.”
“I’ll serve you, but this time, I’m going to ask for payment.”
I blink, but nod. “Of course. It was more than kind that you covered it last visit.”
