Chapter 52
Huntyr
Ican barely contain my smile as Kaia releases a long humming purr and twists further onto her back, holding her paws high so I can continue scratching down her belly. I rest my head on a hand as I lounge across the bed, watching her in amusement.
“You’re really just a sweet little kitty cat, aren’t you?” I tease.
“I am an immortal warrior. I could kill you before you even realize my intent.”
I don’t bother hiding my widening grin. “Such a pretty little kitty cat.”
She swipes at me, but her claws are nowhere to be seen.
“So,” I muse aloud to Tyla. “Did I ever tell you about that time I got tied up in a butcher shop?”
I continue scratching down Kaia’s stomach until her feline eyes flicker over my shoulder. Following her gaze, I scan over my sister.
Tyla leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, staring out the window with a glazed look in her eyes. Her chest barely rises and falls, as if she’s holding her breath.
I stare at her for a long time, but she never turns to me.
“She seems distracted here,” Kaia notes, rolling back onto her stomach.
“Tyla,” I call to her, repeating her name a second time when she still doesn’t acknowledge me.
“What?” she finally says, pulling her attention away from the window slowly, almost painfully. “Were you saying something?”
I feel Kaia shifting next to me, her unease mirroring my own. “Yeah, I was actually about to tell you a riveting story, until I realized you weren’t paying attention to me at all.”
“Sorry,” she murmurs, gaze already traveling back to the window that overlooks nothing but the western lands beyond the fortress. “You were saying something about a baker?”
“A butcher, actually.”
Still, she doesn’t acknowledge me. Her shoulders are tight, her head inclined slightly, and her gaze distant. Slowly her brow furrows, as if she’s listening to something.
“Do you think it’s the tonic?” I ask Kaia.
“It’s possible.” She jumps off the bed, shaking out her coat once she does.
“It’s also possible your sister is simply adjusting to the changes in her life differently than you.
She has been taken from her country, learned that the Fae can be trusted, learned that you are a Fae, and has now spent the past week traveling through foreign lands with her new brother-to-be. ”
I consider her words, even as my gut twitches with doubt.
“Half-Fae,” I mutter in response.
A knock on the door sounds, and I wait for Tyla to jump, or turn, or do anything to indicate that she even heard the noise, but she remains a statue by the window. It isn’t until the knock sounds a second time that I rise to my feet and brush off my pants.
“Don’t worry,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll get it.”
Suddenly all worries about Tyla disappear as I pull open the door to see a flash of long hair, tanned skin, and bulging biceps.
“Rhen!” I cry, launching towards him to pull him into a hug. He holds me gently before pulling back and mussing the hair atop my head.
“I heard the princess was back and thought I’d come say hello.”
Rolling my eyes, I hold the door open wider and allow him in. He leans down to grab two buckets of water and carries them in. Marta, the woman who brought me a dress the night after the Conclave ended, follows behind him, new piles of fabric in her arms.
“I am not a princess,” I remind him sternly.
“Not yet,” he quips with a crooked grin and a raised brow, before turning to Tyla. “Who’s this?”
Still, she’s absent, hardly seeming to notice the new additions to the room until I grab her by the hand and rip her away from the window.
“This is my sister Tyla,” I introduce her. “Tyla, this is Rhen. He trained me for the Conclave.”
He lifts his brow and moves to rest his hands on his hips. “I thought I trained you for the Conclave. From what I saw that day, and at the party afterwards, you really didn’t need any guidance.”
I run my tongue over my teeth and shrug apologetically. “Yes, well, you were very kind in attempting to teach me things I already knew.”
“You have to show me that spin move you did when Mara was throwing the blades at you. That was incredible.”
I feel a blush creeping up the back of my neck as I squeeze Tyla’s hand gently. “Actually, I learned that one while I got into a sticky situation with a butcher a few years back.”
She at least has the decency to hang her head apologetically.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Rhen,” she says, extending her hand towards him.
He kisses her knuckles politely before excusing himself to the attached bathing chamber to fill the tub. All the while, Marta begins laying out the various dresses on the bed.
“Prince Derian let me know you girls will be needing some fresh garments after your travels,” she explains. “We had these available in the fortress already, but I can send one of the servants into town to pick up any other items you may need.”
I pick at a loose thread at the hem of my tunic, turning over a sudden thought blossoming in the corner of my mind.
“Your mind is a disgusting place to be trapped in.” Kaia sighs heavily in my head as my lips split into a grin.
Under her breath, Tyla chuckles next to me, already guessing where my thoughts are.
“I do have a special request, actually,” I tell Marta.
Iallow Tyla the luxury of the first bath, choosing to take the time to catch up with Rhen.
“So, anything exciting happen in my absence?”
He shifts, chewing on his lip. “You could say that.”
I tilt my head in a silent invitation to continue.
“I had to go into town to pick up some supplies, and there was a traveling troupe of performers. I stayed for the show and…”
I can’t stop my grin as his voice trails off. “Did you meet someone?”
He blushes a delicious shade of crimson and rubs a hand awkwardly against the back of his neck. “I mated, actually.”
The words are a slap, a level of brutal honesty I never would have expected from him.
I laugh uncomfortably. “Well, that’s a bit more information than I needed, but good for you.”
Rhen stares at me, at first with confusion—then surprise. He laughs suddenly, the sound a sharp cut through the quiet room. His laughter continues until he’s clutching his side and I’m staring at him with equal parts of confusion and irritation.
“Sometimes I forget you’re only half-Fae,” he finally wheezes. “I’m not talking about sex, Huntyr.”
Frowning, I lean back in my seat, not understanding.
“Mating is something that can happen between two Fae. It’s a connection stronger than any other in the realm.
Unbreakable. We think it’s a byproduct of the Ether in our bodies latching onto that of another person.
Mated pairs of Fae are perfect for each other in every way.
When I saw Joeseph last week, the bond between us just snapped into place.
It was like I’d known him my whole life. We were married two days ago.”
Oh. Oh wow.
Rhen holds his left hand towards me, showing the silver band that now rests on his fourth finger with an expression of utter pride and joy.
“I don’t understand,” I admit. “You just looked at each other, and boom, you were ready to get married?”
Rhen nods. “We were lucky that way. Some mated pairs take a little longer for the bond to fully snap into place or to even notice it’s there, but my parents were mated. I saw how they interacted with each other, so when I felt that pull towards Joeseph I just knew.”
I shake my head incredulously. “I can’t imagine that.”
Rhen laughs softly, eyes narrowed at me. “You might be overthinking it, Huntyr. Trust me, a mating bond is typically fairly obvious to identify.”
I suppose if I get the chance to see him and his new husband together, I’ll be able to confirm that for myself.
“Do I get to meet him?” I ask with a teasing wiggle of my brows.
“Please,” Rhen waves a hand at me. “He talks about you non-stop. The Mortal girl who gave everyone who doubted her the finger. I’d have to keep him away with a crowbar.”
I laugh aloud at that, and I think it might be the first time that I’ve thought of the Conclave without feeling a rush of panic.
We chat for a bit longer. Well really, Rhen gushes. He tells me all about what an excellent acrobat Joeseph is, how his mate understands him in a way no one else ever has, how remarkable it is that he seems to sense Joeseph’s presence even before he can see him sometimes.
He is clearly a man in love.
I’m still warm with happiness for him long after he leaves to report back to his post.
By the time Tyla finally emerges from the bathing room, though, I’ve put away all thoughts of Rhen and Fae mates to focus instead on one singular goal.
Me.
A tub.
Hot water to soak my tired muscles.
I charge into the bathroom and make my way to the copper basin tucked away in a small inlet in the room. I’m just about ready to throw off my clothes when I look down into the water and sigh unhappily.
The water is now cold and dark with the dirt that was scrubbed from my sister's skin.
I chew on my lip, debating how rude it would be for me to trample into the hall and ask for new water.
It’s not like Derian would mind. If he were here, he’d simply march out and demand new water be brought for me himself.
Still.
It was needy. I’d bathed in cold water for the majority of my life. This was nothing new. I’d just grown too accustomed to the luxury of being provided for here in the Fae Kingdom.
I’d grown too accustomed to Derian ensuring that I was provided for.
But I don’t need him to do that, and I don’t need fresh warm water.
I strip my clothes quickly, repeating the sentiment over and over as if I can convince myself of it if I just say it enough times.
And yet, when I turn back to the water and lift my leg to climb into the tub, I freeze.
I just can’t convince myself of it.
I want fresh water.
I step back, sighing heavily. There is, of course, another option. There is another, simpler, way for me to have fresh water without having to burden someone else with bringing it to me.
I could just clean it myself.