Chapter 53
Instead of spending my silver coins on food that would quickly disappear, I decided to invest in a bow and arrows. That way, I can hunt for my food. I can keep some of the meat for myself and sell the rest at the Corbinelle market.
Maybe actually make something of my life here.
The bow is finely carved of yew wood, the tree of the death god, and strung with waxed hemp. By the forest’s edge, I carry a quiver of arrows trimmed with goose feathers and tipped with steel. These cost me almost all my silver, but I’ll make more.
This patch of forest can be tricky. There’s sometimes heavy foot traffic on the path to the city, but it’s also full of game.
So far, I’ve struck out everywhere else.
I’ve been hunting for days without a single kill.
I’m starving, and my empty belly has put me in a terrible mood.
And for some reason, since I’ve returned to my parents’ old house, all I want to do is sleep.
I don’t have an alarm clock like I did in London.
Every morning, I find myself waking late with the sun halfway up the sky.
When I open my eyes, I’m still lethargic and tempted to sink back into my bed.
When I left Vero’s house, she sent me off with bread and fruit and told me to come back for more.
But she’s my younger sister, and I’m not going to keep taking food from her.
She needs it. So, I’ve been rationing: a few dates per day, one apple, two slices of bread.
I supplement with acorns and chestnuts that I forage.
It’s not enough, though.
I’m so hungry I can hardly think straight. Once, I was very good at hunting, but years of office work and ready-made lunches have dulled my skills.
Gods, London did make me soft. I ache for a ham and cheese sandwich so sharply that I can almost taste it.
It makes me furious to admit that Rion was right. Sorry, Prince Lothyr.
I think like a mortal now. I’ve forgotten how to live as a Fey.
A flicker of movement catches my eye, and I see a doe walking through the brush, eyes bright. She seems unaware of me.
I freeze, crouching low. Her ears twitch, and she sniffs the air. I move quietly closer, taking care not to snap a twig or rustle leaves. Carefully, I draw an arrow.
The deer keeps walking slowly, munching on leaves. When I have a clear shot, I nock the arrow and draw the string.
My breath slows. I watch her chest rise and fall. Holding my breath, I aim for the heart and release. The steel-tipped arrow flies straight and drives right into her chest.
She staggers, then collapses onto the moss.
I run for her and set down my bow by her side. As she bleeds out, the light fades from her eyes, and her body stops twitching. In the quiet forest, the only sound now is the wind through the oaks.
I kneel by the deer and draw my knife. As I carve into her belly, blood splashes onto my hands and sleeves, and the metallic scent fills the air. Steam rises from the gash where I slice along her belly and start to pull out the entrails. This will make me some good money.
“Oh, dear. Oh, Owain?”
I freeze at the voice, and the hair rises on the back of my neck.
Slowly, I lift my gaze to see Owain and Vicky walking on a nearby path. “Is that your friend?”
I close my eyes for a moment, horribly aware of the fact that I’m covered in blood and crouching over a dead animal.
I open my eyes again and see Vicky and Owain peering at me from the path.
Vicky wears a sapphire-blue gown, and Owain is dressed in a sleek black suit. And yet, I’m deeply gratified to see he looks haggard with exhaustion, and that Vicky’s roots have grown in mousy brown.
“Syn!” Owain says, his expression brightening as he sees me. “I’ve been worried about you.”
He walks closer.
I crouch over the dead deer, blood dripping from my blade. “I’m fine. Better than fine, really. I’ll be having venison tonight.”
“Incredible job,” Owain says. “I didn’t realize you could hunt.”
“It never came up in London.”
Owain’s eyebrows rise hopefully. “Would you like to come to my aunt’s house for dinner this week?”
Only if I were on the verge of starvation, I think. “This week is a bit busy,” I lie aloud.
Vicky tramples over the brambles to get to us. “Oh, wow. That is…how rustic! Did you kill that? With a knife? You stabbed a deer?”
She’s slurring her words, which delights me because it’s early afternoon.
As she sidles up next to Owain, she stumbles, and he catches her elbow, looking irritated. His cheeks turn pink, and I’m struck by how shockingly young he seems. “Perhaps we should keep walking, Vicky. Let’s get to town for lunch.”
“I miss London,” Vicky blurts. “And apparently, no one knows how to get back to civilization. There was a portal here, but there’s no portal back. And there’s nothing here. I miss being in a real city.”
“We’re not far from Corbinelle.”
She scowls at me. “No, I mean a real city, with entertainment, and, like…fun things?”
Owain practically drags her away.
I turn back to my kill with a small, satisfied smile.
When I’m done selling the extra meat, I’ll still have plenty for Vero, Balin, and myself tonight. I’ll serve it with hazelnuts and blackberries and a nice mead that I’ll buy with my profits.
All things considered, my morning is turning out far better than I could have hoped.
And maybe I’m not in the Veiled Court anymore, but at least I’m slowly starting to remember how to be Fey again.
Perhaps when the time comes, I will hunt and slaughter Auberon like I did this doe.
I just need to figure out how.
* * *
A knock sounds on my door, and I snort as I wake. I still haven’t fully patched the roof, and rainwater drips into my bedroom, turning the dirt floor into mud. I have no idea what time it is. At least, for once, I’m not waking up starving.
Disoriented, I look around the room. Dull gray light seeps through the holes in the ramshackle wooden walls.
Thunder booms outside, and I wonder for a moment if that was the knock.
Then I hear it again.
No, it’s clearly a knock.
Slowly, I climb out of bed and go to the door.
There, standing in the rain, is Prince Lothyr, a cowl pulled up over his silver hair. His golden halo beams underneath it.
My muscles go tense, and for a moment, I consider running. I did, after all, stab him and nearly kill him. Why else would he be here?
“I appreciate that you’re not stabbing me this time.” He arches an eyebrow. “But aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Only now do I realize that I’m clutching the seat swing, which I was sleeping with. I look down at it, slowly waking.
“Oh.” Somehow, it’s all I can muster.
I open the door wider in an unspoken invitation and turn back into my hovel. I slide the piece of wood onto a table, and Rion steps inside.
I’ve never felt quite this shabby before. I’m not sure when I last washed my clothes, and my feet are muddy from the dirt floor.
“Is this where you grew up?” he asks quietly.
“Yes. Part of the time, anyway.”
I expect him to make fun of the appalling conditions, but he doesn’t.
I drop into a rough wooden chair and stare at him. “I can’t decide what to ask first, so what are you doing here, and how did you find me?”
He pulls down his cowl, and the golden light beams over the room. He looks like a god standing there—coldly judgmental, dripping in wealth, radiating light like the sun.
“I asked the first mortal I saw. A little blonde from a mortal empire. And wouldn’t you know it, she knew exactly where I could find you, Syn.”
My jaw tightens. “Are you here to gloat, or is there actually a purpose to this visit?”
“No, I’m here to tell you to come back to the Veiled Court.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
“I’ve convinced the noble houses that you belong with me there. I planted one of Aneirin’s gloves on Cador’s body and pretended to find it. So, now they believe your lies.”
My pulse races. “What’s your plan, Rion?”
“To win the crown.”
In the old days, Rion, we killed our kings. I let the words die on my tongue because he’s offering to give me what I want. Only by getting close to him can I find out more about what he and his father have planned.
The problem is that now, he’ll have even more rope to hang me with. He knows where I live, knows my real name. He’d be able to find Vero in a heartbeat.
I stand, folding my arms. “And why do you need me for this task?”
He shrugs slowly. “The noble houses like us together, and I also want to keep an eye on you.”
“For what reason?”
“I believe you’re dangerous.”
My jaw drops. “I’m dangerous?”
“In my dreams, you destroy the world. When you’re done with it, Brocéliande lies in ruin. The rivers dry up, and crops wither. I don’t yet know what it means.”
Cursed is the hour you were born.
The baroness’s words ring in my skull.
“Then why not kill me?” I ask. “You could have, over and over again. And you chose me in that first combat round—”
“I wanted to know why I’ve dreamt of you. I chose you in the combat round so no one else would.”
My pulse races. “And why do you still need me in the trials?”
He takes a step closer, and his silver eyes burn brighter. When he’s only inches from me, I feel his magic skim over my skin in a dark caress that makes my heart race. The scent of smoldering cedar drifts from him like sparks.
“Because, Syn, the noble houses liked us so much together that they are now saying a monarch must find a consort. Only someone with a fated mate can win the trials. In the old days, they called it the sovereignty bond. Only those blessed by Rhiannon can bring back the Golden Age. That’s what they say. ”
“Do they?”
He leans closer until I can see the rings of blue in his eyes. The light from his halo drips over me, and the warmth of his magic skims over my body, making my breath catch. “To win the next trials, I need you to play the role of my consort.”
* * *
Thank you so much for reading The Veiled Court.