Page 83 of Blood of the Fairest

So this is what it feels like to have someone in my corner.

I stick around while Merrick tells Anika and Ingrid where to get settled in and where to go for lunch with Snow White. Once they leave the courtyard, he tells me that all the papers, charcoal, measuring tapes, and other things I requested are about to be delivered to my chambers.

Then he takes a deep breath of fresh, crisp spring air, declares that this castle makes him feel young again, and strolls off while servants frantically run around trying to get this place up to his standards.

I'm still grinning when I turn and catch the way Wulf is watching me. His expression is surprisingly…tender.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

"For what?"

"Treating one of my kin with such kindness when I treated you with such cruelty."

Oh, that.

I ascend the stairs again, already eager to start sketching dresses for Anika, Ingrid, and Snow White. Wulf follows, Eris haunting us through passing reflections as usual.

"It's not a big deal. I just feel bad for Hagen. He has every right to be pissed at the queen forever, but if there's something I can do to make his life easier before I go, I want to do it."

The Huntsman is quiet for a while. We've already reached the queen's chambers and I'm slipping off the crown and veil when he speaks again.

"Hagen wishes to become a knight."

"Really? That's great. He should go for it."

"Northerners are not permitted to train for knighthood in other kingdoms."

I tip my head. "Why are northerners treated so badly, anyway?"

"They are viewed by most as wild, untamed barbarians," Eris explains from the mirror. "They keep to themselves, living in clans and passing down their own ancient beliefs in Eldrunia. They have no singular monarch and little interest in trade with other kingdoms. They also have no patron faerie, having rejected theirs long ago. Many believe all northerners to be cursed because of that, and think their bad luck is contagious."

"Anyone who thinks that has shit between their ears," Wulf mutters, folding his arms.

So just another case of classic xenophobia. Got it.

"Next time I talk to Merrick, I'll tell him that I'm on board with Hagen becoming a knight. That man has this castle's balls in a vice grip already, so I'm sure he can get things rolling for Hagen, regardless of people being superstitious about northerners," I shrug.

A knock sounds at the door. Before I can move toward it, Wulf answers.

I notice that he keeps the door barely open so they won't see my unveiled face as he accepts an armful of loose papers, charcoal pencils, quills, ink, swatches of fabrics, and more.

Using his boot to shut the door, the Huntsman sets everything down on the empty writing desk in the corner. He studies it before glancing at me.

"You will use these and your particular set of skills to win over the nobles?"

Approaching the desk, I crack my knuckles, flutter my fingers, and grin.

"Yes. Yes, I will."

21

Eris

Blood sprays from the castle guard's broken nose when Wulf's fist knocks his head sideways once more.

Two more equally brutal blows follow, more red splattering until the wretch stumbles, his back colliding with one of the trees. A ringing sound fills the air as the disoriented man's sword is unsheathed from his side.

The guard cries out as his own weapon impales his right shoulder, pinning him to the tree trunk.