Lord of the Hunt (25 page)

No. His gaze was firmly on the Queen and no one else. As it should be. As they’d agreed. They weren’t together and couldn’t be until Felan took the throne. Until then, they had to wait. Maybe it wouldn’t last and all they had was sex in random places in the mortal world. Good sex, in amazing places. Her belly tightened as longing slid between her legs and lodged there. There would be no sneaking away tonight.

When the King stepped forward, she walked over and took his hand. Everyone else followed, one couple at a time as determined after the hunt. Small tables had been set up around the edges of the chamber, but the King’s usual table was still there, raised above everyone else so he could watch the goings-on.

“You look very pretty tonight.” The King kissed the back of her hand.

Where once she would have felt revulsion at the unwanted contact, now she sucked it up. She had to. She had to do everything right and pretend that she wasn’t in love with someone else or they were going to sink. Verden was right; they had gotten far too bold and careless far too quickly.

“And you look quite…” He did look good. Everyone did, as if they’d shed some of the weight and responsibility for just one night. “Wild and noble.” The antlers were truly amazing. Most of the men had horns of some kind and it took only a quick glance to realize that status was still denoted.

The King smiled. “Exactly what I was hoping for.”

There was no hint that he was still angry with her for asking him to pardon her father. But she also knew he would not back down; his pride wouldn’t let him. Is that what had happened with Eyra? One fight had turned toxic until neither of them would admit they were wrong and kiss and make up?

Tomorrow the worst would be over. She’d see her father and he’d take the offer. Her parents would be safe and she could start untangling herself from the King’s embrace.

They sat at the table. Tonight it was slightly different; instead of being full of the King’s council, there was Felan and his partner for the dance, Dylis, Eyra and Verden, who were talking about something and ignoring everyone else. Taryn tried to ignore the twisting of her heart.
It
was
an
act
and
nothing
more.
He loved her, and while she’d blamed the whiskey, she’d seen it in his eyes.

The rest of the table was made up of two of the highest ranking of the Council and their partners, one of which was Sulia, who had made sure she was seated on Felan’s other side. She wasn’t subtle, but then maybe that worked for her. Everyone was watching her actions and not what she was actually doing. If Felan was careful with his plots, Sulia was just as secretive.

Food was served by the shadows and a small tree was placed on each table.

The tree was the dinner. It was all totally edible. The servants had spent a lot of time putting it all together. Around the tree were little mushrooms of soft white cheese. From the tree hung berries; the leaves were candied pieces of apples. What she would have given for a little bacon—or any other meat. While many of the fairies here would be horrified at her eating dead flesh, she wondered how many crossed the veil for the occasional steak.

Like a good fairy she nibbled and drank her wine and laughed when expected. She kept her gaze to the safe end of the table, away from Verden. But he was in her thoughts. She wanted him, wanted to be able to celebrate with him and talk. Once her father was back, she’d get free of the King. Or maybe she wouldn’t have to, as Felan would step up sooner rather than later. Even she was now playing games and keeping her heart’s desires secret.

With a smile on her lips, she sipped her wine and glanced over the goblet at the King. “I look forward to my trip across the veil tomorrow.”

His expression didn’t change. “You seem assured your father will submit to the Court.”

She placed her hand over her heart. “I’m certain of his love for my mother and he wouldn’t wish her dead.”

He nodded, considering her carefully with his frost- tinged eyes. Did he see the winter in his gaze when he looked in the mirror? “A wager then?”

Ah, crap.
“I’m not sure I can afford to gamble with you, sire.” Back away slowly and hope he doesn’t follow. She didn’t want to get tricked into debt with the King and be exiled. Is that what had happened to her father?

The King leaned his elbow on the table and looked at her. “You’ve been here long enough to learn the ways of the Court. My bed has been cold too long.”

Taryn forced herself to keep breathing and not freak out. Felan had said his father never did that, that while he favored women publicly, he was always alone privately. But if he was dying, was he hoping for one last fling? Why her?

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself not to look at Verden. He didn’t want to know. He just wanted it done so they could be together. She just wanted it done so they could leave this place once Felan was King. How long until that happened? She didn’t want this. She wanted to get free of the King, not fall deeper.

Taryn drew in a slow breath and opened her eyes. The King was watching. Had he seen her internal battle? Was it all a game to him to see what he could win? Of course it was. She was a mouse and he was a cat. He’d let her go when he was ready—unless she found a hole to slip through. That’s all she needed, a chance.

She could do this. She could make the bet and win. She was going to throw up. She swallowed and hoped she hadn’t turned as white as the mushrooms.

“What do you propose?” Her voice sounded totally level, as if she were in control. How fairy was she becoming? No, she didn’t want to be like these people. Yet with every breath she took here, the more like them she became.

“If you succeed in getting your father to take the offer of being a shadow servant, he gets his pardon and you are free to find another lover; if you fail, I get you until the end of my rule.” He leaned closer to her, his breath on her shoulder. “Not long at all really.” Then he leaned back to judge her reaction.

“Will you make him serve the year and a day?”

“No, full pardon, and they may return to Court—although I can’t guarantee status.”

Taryn nodded as if considering. It was too simple a deal. “What is the catch?”

The King gave a low laugh. “You do catch on quick. No mention of the deal we’re making or any part of it to your father.”

Okay. Which meant she couldn’t mention that he would get the pardon, only that he had to take the offer. Would he do that? He’d said he wanted to put things right before she’d left.

“One question. Why me? Of all the women here, why me?” Was it because it would piss the Queen off as had been suggested?

“You want something from me. It is only fair I get something from you. It is the way we work. Who is getting the better side of deal depends on where you sit.” He took another bite of food and looked at her, waiting for her answer.

He was never going to give away his real reasons. Maybe he had none and he was just enjoying what time he had left by screwing with other people’s minds.

She glanced at Felan, who’d brought her to Court, but couldn’t help her. He’d promised no harm would come to her parents, yet she knew he could do nothing to lift the exile.

Her gaze then slid to Verden and the Queen. She didn’t want to betray either of them, for very different reasons.

The King took in her glance. “You worry about the Queen.”

“With good reason.” The last woman to cross the Queen had become a shadow.

“Then I guess the question is how much do you trust your father to do the right thing?” The King wasn’t smiling now, and she realized she’d been cornered in a couple of clever lines.

All words died on her tongue. She’d thought she could come in here and play their games and win; instead she’d been caught. All she could do was hope and pray her father would do what was right this time and take the offer, thus saving her from the King’s attention.

“Of course I trust my father.” She knocked back the rest of the wine, glad that it wasn’t alcoholic but wishing that it was.

“So you accept?”

“I do.” She felt the weight settle around her, closing around her throat and choking her. A shadow refilled her goblet. She raised it in a toast to the King. “To tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” His goblet touched hers. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t as clever as your mother.”

That was supposed to be a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one. Had Arlea once sat here and made promises and deals with the King to get on his council? Had she been more conniving than Sulia? More power hungry than the Queen? Yet she’d given it all up for love.

Taryn had given up love for this. She couldn’t look at Verden in case her eyes revealed what she was feeling. She had to be a fairy capable of making deals that would kill a mortal or she wouldn’t survive.

When the King took her hand and led her to the dance floor, she was numb. If she’d had a soul, it would be dead. As it was, her heart was held together with the finest strands of hope, like cobwebs. She took a breath and straightened her shoulders as the music filled her blood. His hand landed on her hip as he spun her around, his feet easily catching the beat. Everyone was watching as the King started the dance. Everyone was already assuming the worst or the best, depending on who they were, about her place in his favor.

She could do this; the hardest part was done. She’d carved out her heart and made a deal with the King of Annwyn.

Tomorrow she’d be free. Hopefully.

Chapter 17

Verden tried not to watch as Taryn danced, but when he looked across the dance floor, she was there, her lithe body in the King’s hands instead of his. No matter how many times he told himself it was for the best, it felt wrong. It felt as though someone had shoved a sword dipped in the river of damned souls through his chest and was slowly watching the poison creep through his body until it killed him. Which it would. He couldn’t watch. He couldn’t even be in the same room without wanting to stand up and tear Taryn free of the King’s embrace.

But if he did, she’d hate him. She was doing this for her parents. She was a better daughter than he was a son. Maybe he didn’t deserve her. He couldn’t live in the mortal world and he’d have nothing to offer her in Annwyn once Felan was King.

Taryn didn’t care. He remembered her smiling in the moonlight. Her lips on his. His body responded to the remembered heat, but his heart ached. No wonder most Court fairies refused to let their hearts be taken. It hurt.

He wished he had stayed longer at his father’s house instead of racing back to Court for the festival. However, the scandal that would have caused wouldn’t be worth it. The Queen would have been livid, which meant the King would have also been annoyed, and the King and Queen needed to keep it together for a little longer.

All those years of going through the motions and doing what was expected paid off. Verden clamped down on his pain and offered the Queen his hand and danced with her as if he wanted to. If not for her most recent poor behavior, she wouldn’t be hanging on the King’s favor by her fingernails. They were all dancing to the whims of an aging King who was ready to throw down the crown and walk away.

Flashes of white body paint outlined limbs as people danced. A few women glowed from head to toe like diaphanous ghosts. If he were younger and less troubled, he might have found it tantalizing. The soft blue lighting cast everyone in shadows and luminescent highlights. It was hard not to feel the magic of midsummer and the changing of seasons in the air.

What had Taryn said?

While half the world turned toward winter, the other half turned toward summer. It was good to know that summer wouldn’t fade. That the world wouldn’t suffer a winter the way Annwyn would.

“You seem distracted.” The Queen tapped his arm in reprimand.

“Only by the beauty you have created. A magnificent display.” He truly meant it. He hadn’t seen such an extravagant festival in many a cycle. Was this the one she wanted to be remembered for? He glanced down into her dark blue eyes, but they were inky mirrors and revealed nothing.

“I would like a dance with my husband. Can you occupy his little tidbit?” She raised an eyebrow as if he weren’t up to the challenge.

“You want me to dance with her?” His pulse hammered hard, but he couldn’t reveal what that would mean to him, to be able to dance with Taryn in public.

Keep
it
polite
and
distant,
he reminded himself.

Eyra pulled away from his hold. “That would be ideal.” Then she was gliding through the swarm of dancers.

Tonight there was no pleasant dance with set steps and pretty manners. There was gyrating and bodies getting flung high into the air and caught. He wanted to be part of that, to break out of the constraints and…and go wild. The festivals were where lust ran free, debts were paid, and prizes got claimed.

His gaze landed on Taryn. She and the King had stopped dancing; fabric clung to her skin in all the right places. With leaves braided into her dark hair, she looked like a nymph awoken from slumber and needing to feed. He would willingly fall at her feet and offer himself as her sacrifice if she would take away the ache that filled his heart every time he looked at her.

The luminescence above her eyes made her look exotic, while the markings on her collarbones drew his gaze down. The three stripes on each arm made her seem wild. Less was definitely more. While many women—and some men—appeared to have fallen into the body paint pot, on Taryn what wasn’t painted became more mysterious.

He took her hand and bowed like he would with anyone else and she did the same as if they were of equal rank. Were they now? Is that what she’d been discussing so intently with the King? The questions burned his lips, but he didn’t want to know. He’d rather not know the details, only that she’d get what she wanted, and he would be waiting. Hands linked, they circled as the music shifted to a slower, heavier drumbeat. Around them the dance shifted to something more sultry, more earthy. It was infectious, pulsing in his body and baying for blood.