The Hunter
Sleep, Theron, a soothing voice crooned.
So, I slept. A small, nagging part of my mind asked, Why?
But the command resonated so firmly within my body that I had no choice but to obey. I was so very, very tired.
Why was I tired? Warmth and heat flooded my body as the memory of what I had been doing a few moments ago came closer to the surface. But the deep slumber claimed me before I could identify it.
No matter. I needed the rest.
Strange, chaotic images flooded my mind as my dreams spiraled.
I saw Eira, bleeding out on the floor. Her scream echoed in my ears, burning through my skin and melting my bones.
I saw Calista with blood dripping down her chin.
I saw my father, pointing a menacing finger at me, his spit flying as he scolded me for falling in love with a filthy half breed.
And through it all, Eira’s scream continued to plague my mind.
A bolt of clarity speared me, and my eyes flew open.
“Eira.” My voice was sluggish and incoherent.
As my dreams faded, her scream lingered, floating down the hall and surrounding me like a fog.
“Eira!” I jumped to my feet, swaying from the sleepiness that still clung to me.
Sleep, Theron.
Blinking rapidly, my brow furrowed as I identified the voice.
Calista. She was using my blood to command me to sleep.
That could only mean one thing: she had Eira, and she didn’t want me interfering.
I fumbled with my clothing, tugging on my shirt and trousers as I fought to stay lucid. Then I staggered to the door, still fighting Calista’s influence, my eyelids heavy… so heavy…
“Hunter!” barked a familiar voice.
I jumped, peeling my face off the wall. I must have leaned against it and fallen asleep once more. Swearing, I righted myself and found Frisk the fox standing at the open door.
“You’ve got some spittle on your chin, lazy-ass,” he snapped.
“It’s not me,” I protested. “It’s the queen—the false queen. She—She—” My head drooped once more.
“Snap out of it!” Frisk swiped his paw at my shin. His claws ripped at the fabric of my trousers—not enough to draw blood, but enough to jolt me from my haze.
I stared down at the fox as he cocked his head at me.
“You called her the false queen.”
“Yes. Eira is the true queen. My queen.”
Frisk’s whiskers twitched as if he were trying to smile. “Took you long enough. Come on, we’ve got to move. Snow gave the signal. The castle is under attack.”
“What was the signal?”
“Her scream.”
I froze as the horror of Eira’s scream washed over me once more.
Shaking off the feeling, I hurried after Frisk down the hallway, staying on his tail as he wound through the halls and padded up the stairs.
Frantic servants jostled past, some shrieking and others barking orders.
I made out words like under attack and the princess.
I strained to hear just what exactly had happened to the princess, but I couldn’t make out any details. Cursing under my breath, I quickened my pace.
A resounding roar from outside rang out, making the walls and floor tremble. I froze, heart pounding as I looked around in alarm.
“What the hell was that?”
“It’s just Rogun,” said Frisk, sounding bored.
“Who’s Rogun?”
“He’s a huge dragon from Knockspur. He’s come to help us.”
My eyes rounded. A massive dragon was fighting with the rebels? Kendra was one thing—she was incredible, but far too small to make much of an impact when facing Calista’s armies.
But something much bigger? That could turn the tides of the battle in our favor.
“Don’t get too excited,” Frisk chided. “He’s a sleepy fellow. Has to nap every hour or so to keep up his strength.”
My spirits deflated, but Frisk was chuckling.
“The false queen doesn’t know that, though,” Frisk said slyly. “Come on, we need to keep moving.”
We reached the top of the stairs and burst through the door. When we entered the echoing entrance chamber above, I froze as something shimmery caught my eye.
A glowing blue thread.
I stopped, my heart hammering in my chest as I drew closer to it. It extended all the way down the hall, nearly translucent. If not for the glow of the sun streaming through the stained-glass windows, I might not have seen it.
“Eira,” I whispered.
Frisk faltered at that, whirling to face me. “What?”
“I can see her thread.”
“What does that mean?”
I didn’t have time to tell him about my discovery of magic. Instead, I channeled my power and stretched my mental awareness toward the thin string. It was already fragile, as if only the finest strand was holding it together.
She was dying.
But I was a life weaver.
My pulse racing, I pressed my magic into the strand, envisioning layer after layer wrapping around it, thickening it, strengthening it…
“Hunter,” Frisk hissed.
I ignored him, my eyes closed and sweat beading along my brow. I couldn’t afford any distractions.
One wrong move, and I would accidentally kill Eira instead of save her.
Live, I willed the thread. I command you to live.
Light shone against my eyelids, and Frisk gasped. I didn’t dare open my eyes, though. I kept my mind focused on my task. On Eira.
Magic seeped out of me, draining me. I hunched over as the sensation of a heavy weight on my back dragged me lower and lower.
At long last, I felt the power within me fade. As I reached out again, Eira’s thread was sturdier.
She was still alive. For now.
Panting, I opened my eyes to find Frisk gaping at me.
“She’s dying,” I said, gasping for breath as if I’d sprinted a mile. “My magic is keeping her alive, but it won’t last forever. Come on, I can follow her thread to find her.”
To his credit, Frisk didn’t ask any questions. He merely trotted after me, his paws clacking on the marble floor.
The thread weaved down the massive hall, and we rushed past several elegant paintings of snowy landscapes, and one regal portrait of the late king. I stopped as Eira’s life thread slid through the double doors that led to the throne room.
She was in there. And Calista was likely with her.
I couldn’t avoid this forever.
Turning to Frisk, I said, “Stay out of sight. Calista doesn’t know about you, and I’d like to keep it that way. Just in case she has something sinister waiting for us.”
“If Snow is in there, I’m coming,” Frisk insisted.
“Calista can use you as leverage against her,” I argued. “And me.”
Frisk’s ears drooped. After a moment of silence, he said, “I didn’t realize you cared, hunter.”
“Yes, well, you and Eira are a lot alike. You work your way into someone’s skin, and by the time you realize you care, it’s too late to change your mind.” My voice was gruff, but Frisk’s nose twitched, his eyes shining as if he saw right through my grumbling.
“I’ll rally reinforcements,” Frisk said. “Just remember, you aren’t alone. Neither of you are.”
I nodded as he darted away, grateful the small creature wouldn’t be put in harm’s way. At least not right now.
With a deep breath, I pushed open the doors and strode into the throne room.
Sure enough, Calista was waiting for me, sitting atop her throne with her glistening silver crown resting on her bronze hair. Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she surveyed me.
How had I ever believed this woman was seelie? Everything about her marked her as a demon, from her skeletal features to her blood-red lips.
I knew now that not all unseelie fae were monstrous. But this woman was.
I approached her slowly, my body on high alert, tense as I awaited whatever ambush she had planned.
Then, I noticed Eira’s prone figure lying at Calista’s feet, her long curls sprawled around her. Her eyes were closed, and her skin was paler than death. The patches of green spots were visible on her skin—her arms, neck, face… Everywhere. It was no longer just condensed to one arm.
The poison had spread.
Anger and panic spiraled in my chest, and it took every ounce of my restraint to keep from rushing to her side.
She’s alive, I reminded myself. Her thread is still intact. She’s alive.
“Well, dear hunter,” Calista crooned, crossing one leg over the other, her expression almost lazy. “It hasn’t been that long since we last saw each other, but things have certainly changed, haven’t they?”
I lifted my chin, refusing to rise to her taunting. “Yes. They have.”
Calista waved an idle hand toward Eira. “Her life is mine. I suggest you say your goodbyes while she still breathes.”
“What have you done to her?” Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t keep the growl out of my voice.
Her thin lips spread into a satisfied smile, as if she’d caught me. “I have poisoned her.”
I shook my head. “Demon Fae poison doesn’t work that fast.”
Calista’s smug expression slipped for the briefest of seconds, and I stifled a chuckle. She didn’t realize I knew her secret.
Perhaps she thought the truth would die with Eira.
Oh, how wrong she was.
“This isn’t the first time she was poisoned, you know,” Calista said, clicking her tongue in dismay. “It happened years ago. It’s uncanny how she seems to attract the worst sorts of creatures, don’t you think?”
A bitter taste filled my mouth as I recalled the green splotches on Eira’s arm. The poison had been slowly working through her body for years. And now, with more of the queen’s poison working through her system, she likely only had moments left.
“Apparently, the Demon Fae cursed her with their poison, enacting a spell that would prevent her from healing,” Calista went on.
“Somehow, she’s kept the poison at bay this whole time.
But with another dose of it, it’s spreading even faster.
It won’t be long now. Soon, my court will be rid of the rogue princess for good. ”
“No.” My heart was seizing in my chest. It couldn’t just be over.
Eira couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now.
“This is a delightful sight,” Calista said with another laugh. “I don’t often shock you, Theron, but when I do, it is a real treat.” She clapped her hands together as if she were watching a performance instead of gloating over poisoning her stepdaughter.
Bile crept up my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Oh gods. Oh gods…
What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t let Eira die.
But I couldn’t heal her poison. I could only keep her thread intact for a short span of time. Just like her stab wound, I hadn’t been able to fix the injury. I’d needed a healer.
She was dying. She would die.
“You two have grown… quite close recently, haven’t you?” Calista said, arching a single eyebrow. “It seems she’s worked her charms on you, if she managed to convince you to break our bargain.”
“I—I—” Shivering bones, I couldn’t speak.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Calista’s voice turned icy. “You—and your blood—belong to me.”
Pull yourself together, Theron! I ordered myself. I couldn’t break down now.
Calista believed she had me. But Frisk was out there, rallying reinforcements. The soldiers were under attack. Did Calista know this?
Did she know I’d awakened my necromancy? Had Lavinia told her yet?
“No,” I blurted.
Calista’s brows furrowed. “No what?”
“No, I didn’t break our bargain.”
She chuckled. “Don’t try to talk your way out of this, Theron.”
“I promised I’d bring you her heart.” I gestured to Eira’s prone form. “And I have.”
“You promised you would kill her,” Calista seethed.
“No, I didn’t.” I remembered that moment clearly—the moment I was certain I’d agreed to my freedom.
“I promised you her heart in exchange for a release from my duties and the return of my blood. Never once did I vow to kill her, nor did I specify what condition her heart would be in when I delivered it to you.”
Calista’s mouth opened and closed, her eyes widening a fraction. “But I…” She trailed off, her face paling.
In spite of the situation, I found myself smirking. “It is a real treat to shock you, Your Majesty.”
Her lips thinned, and fury brimmed in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, I said, “You are right, though. The princess is dying. I can see that now. Can I bid her farewell? I did grow… quite fond of her.”
Calista’s eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down, as if searching for a hidden weapon. At long last, she waved her hand. “Yes. Say your goodbyes. There is nothing you can do for her.”
I had to let her believe that. With a nod, I drew closer to the princess.
“Bargain or not,” Calista said suddenly, “you will not leave this palace alive, Theron. I trust you know that.”
I met her gaze. “I do.” Then, I crouched to the ground, kneeling next to Eira’s motionless form.
Still alive, I had to remind myself. Because she did look well and truly dead. Her lips were gray. Her chest wasn’t moving.
The thin thread of life surrounding her was no longer a strengthened cord. My magic had faded, and the poison would claim her soon.
But I had one last idea. I didn’t even know if it would work, but I had to try.
I leaned closer to Eira, digging down deep into my well of power, summoning everything I had left.
I focused on the pain of this moment; it wasn’t hard to conjure it.
The sight of Eira lying before me felt like cleaving my chest into two pieces.
I clung to that feeling, allowing the anguish of this moment to spread through my body and soul.
What was it Lavinia had told me? It is said necromancers possess the kiss of death. Unless you channel your power into the kiss, it’s harmless.
If necromancers possessed the kiss of death… perhaps we also possessed the kiss of life.
I focused all my power into a single breath. Energy sparked behind my lips. They tingled and burned from the force of my magic.
A faint light caught my eye. My lips were glowing.
Calista noticed it, too. She abruptly stood and said, “Wait!”
Ignoring her, I pressed a kiss to Eira’s cold lips, pushing my magic into her as I exhaled what I hoped was the breath of life into her mouth. I poured it into her, every ounce of myself, every drop of power and energy. I gave it all to her.
My frame sagged as my life force bled out of me and funneled into Eira’s mouth. Darkness clouded my vision, and a harsh ringing sound blared in my ears, drowning out Calista’s scream.
The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was the sound of Eira’s loud, rattling gasp of air.