Page 84 of Blood of the Fairest

The Huntsman of the North looms over him, his glare as perilous as thin ice. His bloodied hand grips the collar of the man's livery, forcing him to look up.

"Who else was bribed to kill the queen?"

I'm glad Wulf is just as aware as I am that this may not be the only guard Schultz bribed.

"Y-you bastard," the guard grimaces.

Sweat beads on his quickly bruising face. He spits blood out of his mouth. It narrowly misses Wulf's reflective axe hanging near his hip, where I'm watching all of this take place.

"Did you drag me from my post on the castle wall just to accuse me of treason?" the rat demands. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Perhaps he would come up with a more believable lie if he knew that I witnessed him accepting the money from Schultz's former personal servant in Isenhold. When I overheard him agree to kill the queen for the disgraced, imprisoned chamberlain, I warned the Huntsman at once.

"The incriminating evidence is in his left boot," I yawn.

This hassle already bores me.

Still, I ought to see it through before I return to Verena. Last I checked, she was gathering measurements from Snow White and her two new friends for the dresses she's making for them.

Wulf bends down and shucks off the man's boot without hesitation. He holds up the clinking bag of coin to weigh it before scoffing, unimpressed.

"Your integrity was bought for such a light sum? Pathetic. You are unworthy of calling yourself a man, let alone one working for the queen."

The guard tries to grip the sword in his shoulder and pull it out, but his fingers slip on blood, slicing themselves on the blade. He hisses in pain, writhing against the tree trunk to which he is impaled.

"What's it to you, anyhow? She's not your queen, you northern fiend! If you're after more gold, Schultz can double or triple whatever that man-eating royal cunt is paying⁠—"

Wulf's next blow lands to the man's gut, robbing him of air so he wheezes.

I fold my arms, impatient. "Just kill him and be done with it. I'll keep an eye out for more vermin like him, but Verena is far too shrewd not to suspect what we're up to, if we're both gone much longer. If she figures it out, she'll want this rat to stand trial."

"He doesn't deserve her mercy," Wulf agrees.

The man spits out blood. "Who the hell are you talking t⁠—"

Swift as death itself, the fabled warrior snaps the man's neck.

That crunch of bones is followed by thick silence in this copse several furlongs away from the walls of Isenmere Castle.

Apparently not interested in searching the man for more coin or valuables, Wulf strides in the direction of the castle, leaving the traitor's body for the witchfolk.

"Evidently, Schultz learned nothing from the last time he attempted to harm Verena. You should have sliced off both of his arms," I joke.

"Arms will not suffice. I shall slice off his head within the hour."

I'm all for the repugnant ex-chamberlain meeting a bloody, savage end.

But already, I can envision that cute little furrow between Verena's brow and the way her lips twist every time she thinks of violence.

"Just don't tell Verena you offed him. And bathe before you return to remove all traces of blood," I suggest, watching the trees rock through this window as Wulf walks. "Verena will be painfully sensitive to its smell by this point, since she still is not drinking enough blood from you. I'd be impressed by her willpower, if it wasn't so damn infuriating."

I'm surprised she hasn't already fallen ill over the several days that have now passed since the new chamberlain arrived.

"Her will to resist temptation certainly outpaces mine," Wulf mutters.

So I've noticed.

He's been nothing but loyal to Verena—a silent sentinel escorting her everywhere, spiking her mulled wine with his blood morning and night, and waiting patiently for orders she never gives.