Chapter 8
Chapter
People at the palace were still shaken by the raid of the birds. For the past few days the guards had burned the corpses of sick creatures gathered from all over the city, and a thick, nauseating smoke hung over the capital like a grim reminder of the Plague. Everyone was in need of distraction.
And the lords, between councils, negotiations, and balls, favored other diversions as well.
Hunting
It was a tradition, a part of noble life as old as the palace itself.
In the past there had also been knightly tournaments, but the capital slowly abandoned them as a mark of barbarism.
The heirs didn’t want to risk their health, and most importantly their honor.
Hunting was what remained. A way to ease their minds, a way to flaunt their strength, a way to compare themselves against other men without drawing steel.
Every lord was urged to take part. It was tradition, politics, and a dick measuring contest with bows.
The whole palace was alight with excitement over the coming hunt. Every nobleman wished to ride. The servants hurried about in fevered preparation. Some cleaned weapons and collected arrows, the dog handlers readied the hounds, and stablemen dressed the horses.
I didn’t know what to do with myself.
The hunt was planned for the whole day, and afterwards there were to be bonfires and a feast under the open sky. While the men were in the forest near the capital, the ladies of the court were expected to remain in the palace, to converse and play their little social games.
Over my dead body.
The last thing I wished was to be locked with all those women for an entire day, most of whom would gladly slip something into my wine if only no one were watching.
On the islands I had often hunted. My mother no longer had the strength to quarrel with my father about my interests.
She knew I walked my own paths, and at some point, she simply yielded.
Frankly, I would gladly have gone to the hunt myself, rather than sit with the hens in their coop.
To escape these stifling walls, feel the wind in my hair, and forget about all this filth for a moment.
I rose early and dressed in leather, the practical attire for a hunt.
In the courtyard I passed ladies in dresses with necklines far too deep for my taste.
I had neither my own bow nor my hunting gear with me, so I made my way to the armory, thinking that perhaps I might slip into the later stages of the hunt.
No one would notice me, and I could finally take my mind off things.
Kael and Brenn were to wait for me in the stables.
When I stepped into the armory, I came upon the last person I wished to see—Aidenar Cavareth. He stood with the older armourer, discussing something over a map of the hunting grounds spread upon the table. When he saw me, he lifted a brow.
“And what are you doing here?” he asked, straightening.
“I came for a bow,” I replied calmly, walking toward the racks of weapons.
“For a bow?” his tone suggested that I had said something absurd. “Why do you need a bow, Veymaris?”
I stopped and looked at him in irritation.
“To shoot arrows,” I said. “That is what bows are for, Cavareth.”
He stared at me as if I had grown a second head. Then understanding dawned on him.
“You’re not going hunting.”
“And who will forbid me?” I folded my arms. “You?”
“If I have to,” he answered, and there was steel in his voice.
He grabbed the bridge of his nose in clear frustration, as though he held back words he would later regret.
“Listen,” he began slowly, weighing each word, “I don’t know how you live on your islands. What a strange role confusion you have there. But here, in White City, things work differently. Men go hunting. Women stay home. The sooner you understand that, the better for everyone.”
I looked at him with murder and contempt in my eyes. I felt anger rising in my chest. I hated it when someone, especially a noble prick, thought he had the right to decide what I do and how I live.
“So now, please,” he went on in that patronizing tone, “be a good girl, dress nicely, wait patiently, and when I return, wait for me with a smile.”
“Asshole,” I hissed.
Without waiting for an answer, I snatched the first bow from the rack that came to my hand, seized a quiver of arrows, and strode out of the armory, ignoring his voice behind me.
“You are not going hunting! This is no place for Ladies!” he shouted, but I no longer listened.
I walked toward the stables with my bow slung over my shoulder, the heat of anger still burning in my veins.
On the way I passed lords and nobles, cracking jokes, showing off their weapons, and boasting over old victories.
The main hunting party was to ride out through the great gate.
Me, Kael and Brenn took our horses and slipped through the side entrance, away from the noise and eyes.
We kept to the edge of the hunt, lingering behind, careful not to draw notice.
We left the horses in a clearing and continued on foot, spreading into a loose cordon as we entered the forest. The air was crisp, birds sang softly overhead, and the trees whispered as the wind moved through their crowns.
How good it felt to escape the stale breath of White City and enjoy the living nature.
Kael whistled low and pointed to hoofprints pressed deep into the soft moss. The animal was close, and large, judging by the size of the marks.
I drew an arrow from my quiver, and we advanced with care, nearly soundless. We quietly spread out through the forest.
When I stepped out from the bushes, I saw him.
A great rack of antlers rose before me. He stood broad and proud, a creature of quiet majesty. His brown coat gleamed in the rays of sunlight filtering through the branches. A magnificent stag.
I lifted my bow, set the string against my cheek, and steadied the arrow. I drew a slow breath.
Then a scream tore through the forest.
“Ruuuun!”
The stag bolted at once, leaping high before vanishing into the shrubs. Well, fuck.
I turned toward the sound as more and more branches cracked and snapped. A young man burst into view, one of the huntsmen, terror etched into his face. Behind him thundered a massive boar, tusks gleaming like blades.
The boy slipped and fell, tumbling down into a ravine. The boar halted short, snorting and pawing the earth.
I shouted to draw its attention. The beast’s head snapped toward me, eyes locking on mine. It charged.
I ran.
I ran with all the strength in my lungs, knowing even as I did that I could not outrun it. There was no time to climb, nowhere to turn. I heard branches shatter closer and closer behind me. I did not dare look back.
Then came the roar, too close, and I knew it was over.
Something slammed into me from the side. I was driven off the path and into thick bushes, the air knocked from my chest.
I landed wrapped in hard arms, shielded by a body.
Black leather. The scent of smoke. Green eyes.
Dricus.
His broad chest pinned me, his shoulders braced over me. One arm locked around my waist, the other cradled my head. We lay pressed into the undergrowth as he listened, every muscle taut.
Silence.
“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.
“No. Unless you broke my bones,” I replied.
“I had little time for warnings,” he said. “Forgive me.”
His jaw brushed my brow as he spoke. I tried to ease out of his grasp, my palms pressed to his chest. He was solid as stone. His hands remained firm, as though he feared to let go.
“I believe it is safe now,” I said.
He caught hold of a low branch and, keeping his arm tight around my waist, hauled us both up from the hollow. He set me on my feet, studied my face, and lifted his hand to my cheek.
My fingers followed his touch. When I drew them back, blood streaked my skin.
“That should be tended,” he said.
A howl echoed through the forest. Our heads turned as one. Without a word, we moved toward the sound.
I recovered my bow as we moved. Kael, Brenn, and the huntsman soon reached us, breathless but unharmed.
“Thank you for the warning,” I said to him. “What is your name?”
“Cedric, my Lady.”
“Are you injured?”
“No, my Lady.”
“Good.” I nodded once, and together we headed toward the sound.
When we found the boar, it was trapped.
It had sunk into a mire that refused to release it.
Yet this was no ordinary bog. The sludge was black, thick, and foul beyond reason, its stench sharp enough to sting the throat.
The trees surrounding it sagged and twisted, their bark darkened, their leaves sickly and rotting, as though the land itself had begun to decay.
The animal screamed, a sound so raw it seemed as if its flesh was being torn from bone. None of us dared step closer than the very brink of the tainted ground.
There should have been no marsh here. These forests are too dry for that. And yet the mire waited, hungry.
The boar thrashed and kicked, but the more it struggled, the deeper it sank into the oily depths.
I didn’t hesitate. I raised my bow and drew the string.
With a single arrow, I ended its suffering.
Silence fell over the forest.
I crouched near the edge of the mire, studying the blackened earth. Dricus caught my arm at once, his grip firm.
“Do not touch it,” he said. “Plague.”
“Are you certain?” I asked.
“Don’t you feel it?”
“No.” I looked at him, startled.
His gaze sharpened. “Let’s go back. Enough adventures for one day.” Then he looked at me like one might a wayward child.
On the road back to the Palace, he finally spoke again.
“What were you doing alone in the forest during the hunt?”
“Is a woman no longer allowed to hunt on her own?” I replied. He looked at me with amusement and disbelief. “And what of you? Were you following me?”
“I saw you slip out through the side gate,” he said. “You had to know it couldn’t end well.”
I lifted my shoulders in a small shrug and offered him an innocent smile.
“And you? Didn’t wish to hunt with the others?”
“I don’t hunt animals,” he replied, the answer sounding dark. “Besides, I am too old for that.”