I was brought before the king, sitting like a giant on his gigantic throne. He had furs of all sizes, shapes, and colors strewn about the floors, and sadly, I envied the stone beneath my feet. What I wouldn’t have given to wrap a single fur around myself and feel what real, true warmth was. I kept my eyes to the ground as Marte had told me to do and just let the king talk. I was there to listen, Marte had said. Not to respond.
The guard beside me began to speak, and it took all my courage not to dive behind him. “Your Highness, we bring you the stable boy. He’d blow away in the wind. Are you sure this is him?”
“You dare question me, Athos? If you’ve brought the boy I asked for, then your job is done. Leave.” He paused and shifted in his chair. ”Boy, have you a name?” the king demanded.
I kept my head down and my mouth shut. I shook so badly I thought the room was moving with me.
“Boy, your king speaks to you. Answer,” another voice commanded.
I raised my eyes slightly to see King Autus. My chin was still tucked to my chest, and again I wanted to step behind the muscled guard at my side. The king’s hard, unforgiving eyes were beating down on me. I mustered all the courage I could manage and whispered, “Temir, my king.”
“Speak up, dear child,” the king said.
His attempt at a soothing voice had the opposite effect and my knees began to wobble.
“Temir, Your Majesty!” I shouted. I slapped both of my hands over my traitorous mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.
The king’s laughter filled the entire room, and the court began to laugh with him.
“Do you recognize this male?” the king asked, pointing to a high fae with coal-colored hair and a sharp jawline.
I left my hands over my mouth and nodded to the king, locking eyes with the soldier that fell from his horse.
“Do you deny laying your hands on him and saving his life?” The eagerness in the king’s voice was palpable, even then. Even to a child.
I shook my head and looked again to the floor, studying the shadow of my small horns slightly hidden with my tousled brown hair.
King Autus rose from his massive throne, walked down the few steps to me, and laid a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Look at me, Temir.”
I dropped my hands and lifted my gaze to him.
“You will never spend another night in the stable. You will move to the castle and begin your training. You will be the greatest healer this world will never know. You will work for me from now until the end of time, do you understand?”
I nodded my head, unsure if I could have denied him even if I wanted to. King Autus’s voice turned melodious as he spoke his next heartbreaking words. “Each of you in this room, apart from you, Temir, will hear now my call. You will not remember what Temir is able to do. You will have no memory of this meeting. When you see Temir in the halls, though he is a lesser fae, you will treat him as a high fae, no matter what your instincts tell you to think of him. You will watch over him and trust your king in all things, do you understand?”
“Yes, my king,” the room replied as one and bowed.
I let the memory fade as I stood from my desk and walked into my bedroom. Removing my shirt, I folded it and placed it on top of my dresser. I unlaced my leather boots and set them by the door. As I laid in my bed, I realized I had forgotten to leave myself a single blanket for warmth. At least the boy was warm.
Chapter 4
Ara
Once upon a time, there was a female so old, there was not a kingdom that remembered her as a child. The old female, known as Aibell, lived so deep in an ancient forest, they said the only way to find her was to need her so desperately, your heart called her name louder than your voice ever could. Aibell . . . Aibell . . .
One day, a female sought her. She called her for weeks wandering through the forest until she came upon a glen. Her heart called for Aibell. Her mind called for Aibell. Everything that she was called for her so desperately that she knew if she lay down to die, the unborn child in her belly would call for Aibell before also dying.
Aibell . . .
The female lay on the soft grass floor of the glen, and as she wept, the sky wept, the rain chilling her to the bone. Still, her sorrow-filled voice called, “Aibell.”
Aibell did not come for the female. She lay down to rest in that glen and never woke.
I woke in the carriage with my mother’s favorite tale in mind. It was such a sad tale, but as the years had passed, she loved to tell this story most. Perhaps it was because it reminded her of her own mother’s death upon her birth. Perhaps because she liked to remember there was always hope but nothing was ever promised.
As I neared our cottage, I started counting carriages lined outside of our home. Thirteen and a few lone horses. Father had called a meeting of the Hunt. There hadn’t been a meeting of the Hunt in our home since I was a child. It was probably best not to disturb them, so I quietly slipped into the house and made my way to my bedroom. I wasn’t worried they would hear me. They never did. I knew which floor planks were quietest and to lift my door as I swung it open to prevent the sound it otherwise made. I didn’t bother shutting it completely. The click would give me away.
I stepped lightly to my bed and fell back, letting it catch me. I watched the lazy sun move across the ceiling as I listened for the males to leave. But they didn’t. I moved to the mirror and tied my long hair back in a braid, then returned to the bed. Then to my bookshelf. Then back. I was pacing, I realized. Waiting, just as my father would have done. I may have looked nothing like him, but we were so similar in action and thought. I needed his advice, but his meeting was important.
As a child, I would eavesdrop on the meetings. He always knew I was there, of course, but he also encouraged any opportunity to learn anything and everything I desired. Maybe I’d just sneak down and see if they were almost done. I lifted and slowly opened my door, taking a moment to calm my breathing. When I was seven, I learned a breath could be your biggest betrayal. I moved down the hallway, hoping that my mother was not home.
The Hunt was fascinating, but they were also cruel. It was said they rode the night sky on fae wind in the human lands. The beast that led the Hunt used magic to keep them unseen by anyone but their chosen victim. They brought death to deserving humans and escorted them to the underworld.
Even the fae could fall victim to the Wild Hunt, though it was rare. That was why my father was feared. That was why I was invited to the stupid castle. My father was not the leader of the Hunt by personal choice alone. He’d told my mother they had asked him to lead for hundreds of years, but he refused time and time again. He was a badass, and most of the males under my father looked to him as the leader, anyway. He could best any of them, and they knew it.
I slipped into the open hallway outside of his office and creeped down the long corridor until I was in an adjacent room. I stepped to the wall and listened, closing my eyes and trying to picture where they were in the other room.
“I think we are done here,” came a gruff male’s muffled voice.
“We are done when I say we are done, Edwin,” my father snapped. “It’s not our job to question anything. We cannot consider this at all.” I heard his chair move and the steps he took toward Edwin. “You must listen to me.” My father let out an exasperated sigh and softened his voice. “We gain nothing from getting involved with any of it. It’s not our job to be involved. It’s not our job to do anything but exactly as the king commands.”