The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) (24 page)

The path that led past the hedge behind her was definitely smaller. Large tree branches now pressed in, making that direction nearly impassible.

At least Dorothy had Toto.

She had no idea how far behind Logan she was. He’d made a big deal of not using a portal last night for fear of being tracked by the queen and, although the subtleties of why the tunnels wouldn’t be more traceable than the portals eluded her, she was grateful. If he’d taken a portal she would never find him.

This trip through the foreboding, quiet forest was different than her last as she moved fast in her sharp heels through the too dark morning light. No jovial Rinnal to flirt with her and keep her distracted from the push of the forest’s desire to possess her. No Logan, alert and protective, at her back. Just her, stumbling on roots that seemed to rise up just in time to trip her. Dank leaves drooped low over the path, seeming to reach for her, trying to touch her. She raised the glowing sapphire high and they pulled away.

She reached the main junction and realized she wasn’t sure which of the two paths to take. Despite being here just last night, everything looked different. The paths were smaller, they both seemed narrow tracks, barely fit for animals to get through. She swore there hadn’t been two ways to go last night.

The left hand path seemed more inviting and open, the trees and brambles gave it more space, and there was even a little light coming through the canopy of leaves. But the narrow, crowded right-hand path seemed more familiar, even if it was dark and gloomy.

She turned and looked the way she’d come. For just a moment, she was tempted. She could just go back and be Logan’s for the rest of the year—available when he wanted, left alone when he found her inconvenient. But if she did that, how could he ever respect or love her?

She’d slept with him, but she didn’t really know who he was, if he understood her, or if he even cared. And how could she trust him when he felt he could just sneak out without taking her with him, without any sort of discussion? This was her family they were trying to save. Her life.

And his life would be better with her dead.

She faced forward, resolved to keep going. But which direction? The open, clear path that could be a trap set by the forest? Or the right-hand path that set her teeth on edge with its narrow, forbidding entrance framed by overhanging branches?

Centering, she drew on her own inner magic and probed the stone. The touch of the sapphire was a cold and alien power that had no agenda, but sent back an inquiry of its own.

What did she need?

Trina thought of Logan. How he’d been so considerate of her when she was crying over her family. How incredibly beautiful his eyes looked when he was deep inside her. How she exploded with heat when he kissed her.

The stone grew hot.

She began to walk down the more open and inviting left hand path and the stone cooled. She reversed direction and headed down the gloomy, right-hand path and the sapphire grew hot again. She whispered, “Thank you,” to the stone for playing hot and cold, just like when Aunt Theresa used to hide presents from the three of them at the Winter Solstice.

Memories of running around the house on Solstice Eve, looking for presents with her giggling cousins, flooded her. The stone cooled into a chunk of ice in her hands. She closed her eyes. Even the stone couldn’t help her find her own life. Taking a deep breath, she thought of Logan instead, and the gemstone blazed.

Hot and cold, the stone guided her quickly to the unambiguous rockslide that hid the entrance to the tunnels. Ravens flew into the air, flapping and cawing their alarm. She held the stone in front of her, ready to open the tunnels and praying she could find Logan once she was inside.

A knot formed in her throat.

What if this didn’t work? She had to know if Logan was really on her side, if she was infatuated with someone trustworthy, despite his heritage. She was sure, if he hadn’t had something to hide, he would have taken her with him. That is, if he cared at all.

Letting the sapphire swing on its chain, she stepped toward the rock. A raven dive-bombed her, its sharp, yellow beak slicing next to her eye as she screamed and threw her hands up in defense.

Gritting her teeth, she swatted at the enormous bird, and it flew off, its fellows launching into the air, all coming for her. Trina fought her way forward through the cloud of shrieking clawing feathers and touched the rock face where the door had opened the night before. Nothing happened. The birds continued to attack, pecking at her eyes, snatching at her clothes, her hair, her face. Everything but the stone.

Her throat tight, she grabbed the sapphire and thought hard about how the entrance looked as she ducked another bird intent on tearing a chunk of her scalp. She pictured how the stones had re-formed for Rinnal into a gaping hole. Seconds became a minute, and then two.

“Open please!” Desperately hiding her face in her arms, away from the sharp beaks and batting wings, Trina put all her will into the plea. The ground trembled. The birds flapped. There was a hesitation in the air, and the stone-fall rearranged itself into the dark, gaping mouth of the tunnel.

Trina ran inside, the cloud of birds wheeling into the sky, cawing their rage as the rocks shuddered closed behind her. She lit a lantern and again followed the hot and cold of the now glowing stone. Feeling one careful step after another, she kept in mind the pebble Logan had thrown into the dark that had bounced off the rock walls, forever on its way to the bottom.

Without another person to talk to, she lost all sense of time. Step, step, step. Think of Logan and feel the stone’s response. Step, step, step.

An eerie, echoing cry sounded to her left. She jumped to her right, her foot slipping on an edge as the cry reverberated through the tunnel. A fresh, cold breeze startled her. She dropped the lantern, the light going out as she pulled her foot away from the deep hole. Shaking and shivering, she tried to relight the lantern without any success, finally giving up and depending only on the cold blue glow of the sapphire.

After what seemed like hours, she reached a dead end.

She clutched at the burning stone and begged the blank wall to open. Nothing happened.

She tried again and again, the air growing heavier and thicker in her lungs as she turned and faced section after section of the wall, hoping one of them would open. She sank to her knees, gasping and panting for air, frantic thoughts of Logan returning to find her starving skeleton clutching the sapphire in bony fingers.

Slowly, she regained her sanity and asked the stone where the entrance was, it burned bright into a shadowed corner. She aimed the stone into the corner and the rocks shuddered open.

“Thank you, Goddess,” she said and ran into the bright sunshine, grateful to her bones that she’d gotten out. The sapphire burned her skin, guiding her through a brighter section of the forest. Beyond a screen of brush, she heard Logan talking.

Trina tiptoed closer and peered through the screen of bushes. In the center of a small clearing, she spied Logan and a tall, thin, man. This was a true Tuathan elf, the kind she’d glimpsed once or twice and run from.

“Enough of your excuses, Huntsman,” the green man said. The way the green-skinned fae jabbed his long, elegant fingers in Logan’s face, combined with his odd choice of a tuxedo for the woods, reminded her of a malevolent grasshopper. “We need results.” He arched both long eyebrows up, his forehead wrinkling. “Her majesty needs results.”

“I’m working on it.”

“You know that isn’t good enough for her majesty. She needs the MacElvys dead…immediately.” Standing directly in front of the taller, more slender man, Logan’s mixed heritage and solid, muscular build gave him a more human appearance.

If only she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“I have a lead, but it will take time for it to come to fruition. All hunts have their challenges and this one is no exception,” he said. His stance seemed relaxed, but his hand hovered by the sword on his waist.

“You’re not taking this seriously enough. If you fail this time, she will not simply imprison you.”

“I didn’t fail.”

“She doesn’t see it that way. What the queen sees is that once again, you are half the man that your father was, lacking in honor and failing in your responsibilities. It’s to be expected, considering your heritage.” The green man sniffed.

Logan tensed. “You can insult me all you want, but my mother was just as much elvatian as my father was. And far more honorable.”

“She wasn’t Tuatha De Danann.” The fae looked down his long stick of a nose. “You’ll never be one of us, no matter how hard you try to overcome her blood.” He waited a beat as Logan’s fingers twitched.

Trina held her breath, wondering if Logan would pull the sword. But when nothing happened, the elf continued. “There’s still an opportunity to earn the queen’s respect back. If you can convince me that you have the wherewithal to do the task, I might be able to hold her off.” His voice lowered. Trina leaned in, trying to hear his near whisper. “Tell me, boy, why did you fail to kill all the MacElvys at that last location?”

“They were tipped off, gone before I even got there. I killed the one I found.”

Trina gasped. Both men stilled. She held onto the sapphire and willed them to overlook her as her frozen heart beat too loudly in her ears.

Had Logan killed one of her cousins? Had one of them returned looking for her?

Shock kept her immobile as more poisonous words dripped from her fae lover’s lips. “I told you, I have a lead,” Logan said.

Was he speaking of her? Had she given him the trail? She had taken him to the gypsy camp. Now would he hunt down and kill the rest of her family?

“Why did you not release your hounds on the scent at the house? Why did you burn it so thoroughly that there’s nothing now to track?” The man leaned into Logan’s face. “Why have you continued to fail?”

Logan stood firm under the other fae’s examination, his shoulders and neck stiff with leashed aggression. “I followed her majesty’s orders. She told me to burn it.”

Trina’s heart twisted.

He had burned her home on the queen’s orders, not to protect her. She held still, clutching the talisman of Rinnal’s sapphire, praying it would keep her hidden. She had to get out of here and escape, while she had the chance. She’d been stupid and trusting. No longer. Now she would strike off on her own and truly escape Logan. She carefully began to work her way backward, away from the two arguing men.

“You’re keeping me from the hunt, Haddon,” Logan said.

Haddon! She stopped. That was the name that Mariella Boyd had given her. The name Logan had assured her wasn’t a lead and yet, here he was plotting with him to ensure her family’s demise.

“I must go,” Logan said. “You may tell the queen that it will take time, but all will be resolved.”

“Resolved! You always did mince words.” The fae’s lips twisted. “I told her you were too weak to be her huntsman, but no, she said you would take after your father. He, at least, was a ruthless killer, a man who truly deserved the title.” Haddon stepped away from Logan. Behind him, the mists of a portal formed. “You had better try harder to live up to your father’s reputation, or you will not have time to create your own. The queen will not spare you again unless she thinks you are useful.”

He headed for the purple mist, turning back when Logan spoke again.

“Where is Prince Kian, Haddon? He was not at court and I haven’t seen him since my release.”

“Hoping he will intercede for you?” Haddon sneered. “Don’t count on it. He’s in his own private prison, waiting on the queen’s pleasure. If I were you, I would worry more about my own head than the prince’s. The queen won’t kill him, but she certainly won’t hesitate to kill you if you fail again.” He stepped into the fully-formed gate, and the mists swallowed him up.

Logan slumped. Trina had a brief urge to go to him and take away that defeated look, but her heart hardened. He’d used her. She needed to go. She stepped backward and a branch snapped. His chin rose and he looked straight at her.

Panicking, she eased away from the protective screen of bushes. She needed to get away. Hoping the stone was doing its job and he hadn’t actually seen her, she looked down for anything that might give her away. Something brushed her aura. Something close and dangerous. She lifted her head and looked into the gleaming eyes of one of Logan’s huge hounds.

A tight gasp escaped her. She stopped being careful and ran for the tunnels. Cursing her heeled boots, she darted around a tree and slammed into Logan’s hard chest.

“I could hear you from the moment you stepped out of the tunnel,” he growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking. The hounds pooled around them. “What were you thinking? You’re just lucky Haddon isn’t a hunter.” He let go, his fierce eyes pinning her in place.

“I…”

“Shh. What if he left a spy?” he hissed, holding a finger to her lips. “Search!” he commanded. The hounds had barely melted into the underbrush when Logan grabbed her arm again in a bruising grip. “Come, you will be safer inside.” She resisted, dragging her weight. Cursing at her slow pace he scooped her up and carried her to the tunnel entrance. Without hesitation the stones opened and she was dumped on her backside in the dank interior of the tunnel. “Don’t move,” he growled.