Lord of the Hunt

Chapter 10




A frisson of danger slipped down his spine and spread over his skin. Every time he crossed the veil with Taryn, he knew he was breaking every rule he should be upholding and every oath he’d sworn to Gwyn, and yet he couldn’t stop. She was the rush that had been missing from his life for too long. A spark that made every breath dangerous. However, instead of playing against her and trying to stay one step ahead of her game, they were playing together. It was them against the Court.

How long could the odds hold in their favor? He pulled her through the doorway and then hard against him, his lips on hers. He wasn’t wasting a second of the time they had together. It had taken too long for him to leave dinner, the Queen watching his every move. They should have waited another night and been more careful, but he needed Taryn.

Her fingers gripped his waistcoat, fisting the fine fabric, but he didn’t care if he went back looking like he’d tangled with a bear. Not right now anyway. He would later, but the part of him that played by Court rules and gave a damn was shut down with the thrill of getting away again, of having someone to get away with—someone who was having as much fun as him.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb smoothing over her skin. Fun had been missing for too long. But even as he looked at her, he knew that this was more than just fun. It cut too deep when she sat with the King. His King. Warning brushed over his skin like a cool breeze. Too many things could go wrong, and she still needed her father’s pardon.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered against his lips.

“Nothing. Let’s move away from the doorway.” As they walked away, he glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing to concern him.

“You can’t lie to me.”

Couldn’t he? He lied to everyone else, including himself. “Why do you keep risking everything by crossing the veil?”

She looked at him for a few heartbeats, as if she didn’t understand the question. “For the same reason you do, I think. At Court I do what is required and what is expected…but here, with you, none of that matters.” She drew in a deep breath and tipped her face to the sunlight filtering through the branches of the trees. “I am just me and you are just you. It’s easy.”

Easy. Was that it? Is that why he was craving these times, because it was easy and he didn’t have to be anyone except himself?

“And if I asked you the same question?” She raised one eyebrow as she moved toward a sunny clearing big enough for him to lay down his cloak.

“I want to be with you and I can’t do that at Court, yet.” Maybe never. He should be making plans, alliances, and working out what he was going to do after the power shift, but he cared less and less. All he wanted was Taryn.

She watched him, as if weighing his answer. “I want you too.” She beckoned him forward.

He used a little magic to gather fallen leaves to soften the ground, then took off his cloak and spread it over. A perfect place to spend a mortal afternoon while Annwyn slept. He sat down and let the tension of Court dramas fade. The weight would be there waiting for him to pick it up later. There would be plots to unravel, the mortal world to watch over, and the Queen to avoid, the same as always. He relaxed onto his back.

Taryn didn’t sit next to him; she sat on him. Straddling him, her dress pooled around her. “Do you know where we are this time?”

“Yosemite.” He only knew the name because he’d had to clear up a Grey problem here a few years ago, maybe ten years ago. It was so easy to lose track of mortal time. Humans and a small gang of Greys looking to make trouble were never a good mix. Those Greys were now much further north and well away from civilization.

She smiled. “I’ve been here before.”

Damn. He’d been hoping to take her to places she’d never been. “I didn’t realize.”

“So you do know places closer to towns.”

“Very few.” And they weren’t the places he really wanted to take her, but she’d asked. “I don’t come across the veil to share you.” He drew her down for her kiss, but he wasn’t just bringing her across the veil for sex—although sex with her was different than the calculated couplings at Court. With Taryn, no one was keeping score and she wasn’t going to screw a deal out of him. And he didn’t want one from her; that she was here was enough. He started undoing her dress, wanting to feel her skin against his.

She pulled the dress over her head and tossed it to the side. His fingers traced over her stomach and around each breast. She shivered and her nipples hardened into tight peaks that needed to be touched. He sat up and took one in his mouth. She arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He liked the press of her nails. It wasn’t done to leave a mark or prove a point. Her fingers flexed against him depending on what he did, her reactions natural and unforced. She wanted him to know when she was enjoying something, and she responded to his touch. It was as if they made their own magic when they were together.

With a final lick, he released her. But she didn’t release him. Her fingers pushed into his hair, tugging out the binding so his hair fell free; then she tipped his chin up so she could claim his lips. Her hips moved and his shaft pressed against his pants. There was entirely too much fabric between them, and she seemed to agree, her hands sliding under his shirt.


He rolled her over and stripped off his clothes.

“You swear that bears aren’t going to find us?”

“I swear.” Although he probably would have promised anything right then as he lay over her, both of them naked. If any human did stumble into the clearing, they wouldn’t see anything; they’d just have a strong urge to leave. Mortals couldn’t see fairies unless the fairies let them—and even then most didn’t show their true face. It suited their purpose to not be seen right now.

She slid one leg over his hip. “You’re just saying that.”

He eased forward, his shaft pressing against her waiting sex. “You aren’t exactly rushing away.” He kissed her before she could speak again. He didn’t care if a family of bears ambled into the clearing—not that they would. The forest was quiet, and there was very little wildlife around. He wasn’t careless with their safety in either world. “If you want to see bears, we could go somewhere else.” He pretended to draw back, knowing she’d stop him.

Her other leg hooked over his thigh. “Here’s fine.”

She reached for him, her fingers feathering over his shaft as he watched. Her lips parted a little, a smile curving the corners as though she were a forest nymph free of all responsibilities. Maybe that was just what he wanted, to know what it was to be truly free again. He moved closer, sinking into her. For the moment, he was free of everything and everyone except Taryn and his desire to be alone with her.

While she admitted to needing these breaks from Court, he couldn’t. It went against everything he’d worked for. It was much easier to lose himself in her and pretend that he came here to be with her. She was the reason he was craving more than what the Court offered.

She was his craving.

Taryn moved with him and the sound of skin on skin filled the air. She moaned against his lips, her hips lifting to meet every thrust, her fingers digging into his skin. He nipped at her lip, and she responded in kind. Her breaths shortened, and she urged him faster. He gave her what she wanted, holding back until her core tightened around him and she came. Then he let himself slide over the edge to drown in pleasure.

***

The bed of leaves tickled her back even through the dark cloak spread over them. Every movement made the makeshift mattress rustle. Verden lay next to her, with one arm over his eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun, which had moved. He was thinking, and she knew what he was thinking about.

He’d told her about his run-in with the Queen. Just hearing about it had been enough to make her heart clench in fear. But all her doubts about sneaking off vanished when she was in his arms in the mortal world. Here, she saw who Verden was when he wasn’t hiding behind the mask of Hunter. She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, stretching out in the dappled sunlight.

He’d assured that no bears would disturb them, but Yosemite had bears, and deer and all kinds of things. Wondering about wildlife wasn’t particularly relaxing—not that she’d been thinking about wildlife as they’d given into the lust that was becoming harder and harder to keep locked away.

“There is a café down the hill a bit I believe.” This was as close to home and the familiar as she’d come, and she didn’t want to let the opportunity slip by without seeing people and eating normal food and feeling like the world as she knew it still existed. In Annwyn, it was easy to forget there was more across the veil.

“We just ate.” Verden opened one eye.

She was tired of the elegant dinners, and she was sick of Court food. The fruit and what they called cake. She craved the sugar and salt of the mortal world. Soft drinks and chocolate and meat. She’d convinced Verden to take her through a doorway that was close to civilization because she wanted him to see her world and realize there was so much more than deals and games. She wanted to see him in her world. As much as she loved the wilds and being with him, she wanted to see if they could play at being human together.

“We ate at Court hours ago.” Since then they’d been entertaining themselves. She plucked a leaf from his hair and tossed it away. At least no keen hiker had stumbled across them. “Can we just go and see?”

“You want to spend the little time we have together surrounded by humans?”

“It’s called a date. Usually men take women out to dinner before jumping into bed.”

“Is that how they win affection?” He reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She leaned into his touch and let herself be pulled into a semi-embrace. “It’s how people gauge interest and compatibility.”

“I’m interested. I’m interested every time I see you.” He took her hand and placed it over his hardening shaft.

“I’ve noticed.” She bit her lip; she didn’t think she was asking too much from him. “I want to be able to sit down and have a meal with you and not hide what I feel. I want to be able to talk to you without wondering who will overhear.” This was the test: could they have a real relationship? She twisted around to look at him.

“I want that.” There was a silent but.

She waited. She was aware of his breathing, the lift and fall of his chest against her, and the cooling of their skin. She’d have never lain naked in the forest with a human, yet with Verden it felt right—because it was all they had. She hoped she was wrong and there was more than sex and magnetic attraction.

“I’ve never eaten human food,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I don’t spend any time around humans.”

“How can you not spend time around them when you patrol the mortal world?”

He looked up at her, the sunlight and leaves making patterns on his skin. “I don’t patrol. I simply monitor fairy activity in the mortal world. I relocate Greys, and stop those who choose to live here from making excessive trouble for humans. I am the King’s law in the mortal world. The rest of the time I’m at Court. I’ve been there nearly my whole life. I’ve never had time to dabble with humans, as I was too busy trying to secure my position and, once there, holding it and doing what was required. My life belongs to the Court.”

She didn’t know what to say. Had he ever really lived and had fun? “This is where my life is.”

“You don’t want to live at Court?”

She shook her head. The longer she spent there, the more she disliked it. He was quiet again and she knew he was thinking what she had already considered. This was fun, but at some point it would it end. He was a Court fairy and she wasn’t. She eased away, not wanting to hear him say it. She just had to enjoy what little they had without reaching for more.

“Forget I asked. It was a stupid idea.” She reached for her discarded clothes.

He moved and caught her hand. “No it wasn’t. Let’s have the meal we could never have at Court.”

***

Dressed, they let themselves be visible to mortals. Their clothing was wrong, but a little fairy magic would convince anyone who saw them that they were nothing more than another couple of hikers. Few would bother to look closer for the simple reason mortals didn’t expect fairies to walk among them.

They had found a trail and then walked down the hill to the little village. Village might be generous, as it had a general store, a post office, a tiny museum, and a couple places to eat. Verden watched as people milled about, talking in groups; some walked past and snapped photos of the scenery.


He followed Taryn into a shop where she scanned a board, then turned to face him. Her eyes were bright and she looked relaxed, more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.

“What do you want?”

He looked at the board, but it was all scribbles to him. “I don’t know.”

She gave him a questioning look but said nothing.

He shrugged. “Surprise me.”

It would all be a surprise. He couldn’t read the board. Most fairies couldn’t read; it was a very human thing to do.

“Two burgers with the works, fries, and medium lemonades.”

The man rang up the total, and Taryn handed over two leaves which the human accepted as money without even blinking. Verden bit back the grin. She’d been so worried about pulling that trick off, but as he’d pointed out on the walk down, if she didn’t do it, then there would be no meal. Besides, she was old enough to be doing simple tricks, and it’s not as though anyone was getting hurt. No one was going to lose their soul or get caught in a deal. It was just an extension of the glamour they were using to hide what they were.

They moved away from the counter and waited. She opened up a pile of papers that was sitting on a table.

“Wow.” She pointed to something near the top. “I’ve been away over a month.”

“Time moves differently.”

“I know…I just didn’t think it was that different.” She looked at the first page, then turned to the next one. “That’s not good. Golden staph outbreaks in hospitals and an antibiotic resistance TB strain.” She flicked another page. “It’s like the first sign of the apocalypse. Are you reading any of this?”

“No.”

She turned her head a fraction, puzzlement in her eyes and in the way her eyebrows pinched together. “It’s important. Maybe related to”—she lowered her voice—“Annwyn.”

Oh, it was definitely related to Annwyn. The breakdown of power was bleeding across the veil. But it wasn’t the bad news that bothered him. It was his inability to read, something that had never worried him before. Yet now it did. While Taryn fit into this world, he didn’t. He’d seen it but never lived in it.

For a moment he considered not saying anything, but he didn’t want to lie to Taryn. “I can’t read.” Her lips parted, but he spoke before she could and defended his lack of skill. “I’ve never needed to learn.”

She nodded. “I guess most of the Court can’t read.”

“You’d be guessing right.”

The man rang a bell and she picked up the tray of food, and they went back outside to sit. Over the road, little gray squirrels scampered over the grass and up the tree.

“Do you have any idea how guilty I feel right now?” she whispered.

“Fairies have been doing things like that for as long as money has been around. It’s not like we carry coins.” Gems, silver or gold, silks, and other fine objects were usually traded. More often it was intangibles, which meant being very careful with the wording of what was being agreed to. Never make a deal in haste, as it would come back to haunt.

“It’s paper money now.” She corrected as she popped a fry in her mouth, then licked the salt off her fingers, her tongue darting out for a moment. He knew what that tongue felt like when applied to skin. Just watching her enjoy the food was worthwhile. “Try some.”

He unwrapped the burger. It certainly wasn’t elegant like Court food. Plant, meat, and cheese hung out the sides. It was rather unappetizing. Then he looked at Taryn and she was eating as though it was the first good meal she’d had since arriving at Court. He could do this for her—if he took the meat out.

He opened up the bun and pulled out the dead flesh, then closed it back up and took a bite. It was worse than it looked, but he chewed and swallowed and wished he had a glass of berry wine to wash it down with. He settled for the soft drink. While he’d braced for something terrible, it was pleasant. Bubbly and sweet.

“I have missed this so much.” She popped more fries in her mouth and made a sound that previously he’d only heard her make when they were alone and naked.

This meal was making her so happy. He tried to be more enthusiastic. It couldn’t be that bad; it was just different. After a couple more bites, he’d decided it really was that bad and he couldn’t eat any more. Instead, he concentrated on the drink.

She noticed. “You don’t like it.”

“It’s different.” He really didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“And you don’t eat meat. I didn’t even ask. Do you want something else?”

“It’s fine. There is no meat at Court; we don’t eat dead things.”

She paused about to take another bite. “Does that mean I shouldn’t be eating it? Is there a reason?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of, just that meat isn’t served in Annwyn. We don’t eat death. When we hunt, it’s for status and the kill it is returned to the earth.”

“So if you’ve never eaten meat, how do you know you don’t like it?” She raised one eyebrow.

He didn’t. He’d been trying to make the burger more like what he was used to. With her watching he broke a piece of the meat patty and put it in his mouth. It didn’t taste like death, but it didn’t taste like anything he wanted to eat again either. “How about I skip the meat and stick with the fries and drink?”

“As long as you don’t mind me eating meat.”

He smiled. “Not at all.”

“See, if we weren’t having our first date, I’d have never known you were a vegetarian.” She raised her paper cup. “To first dates.”

He raised his cup so they tapped. “To many more.”

“So if you weren’t the Hunter, what would you be doing?” she said after sipping her drink.

He never spoke about his family, though he was sure most knew his background simply because it was always wise to know your opponent. “My parents farm on the outer reaches of Annwyn.”

“There are farms?”

“Where do you think the food comes from? Someone has to grow it and produce it.”

Her lips parted as she thought about it. “I never realized. My parents never mentioned anything other than Court.”

“Most Court fairies don’t. They don’t like to think of anything other than themselves.” Something he’d have never said aloud in Annwyn. Yet here he didn’t have to censor every word. The humans around them were too involved in their own conversation. No one cared and no one was watching.

“You’re a Court fairy.” She pointed a fry at him.

“I am now.” He nodded and took the fry from her. “But I have lived beyond Court. It was my decision to leave the farm. I went in knowing what I was doing.” But not realizing what it would cost him. “So what do you do here? You aren’t part of the Brownie compact that your parents made.”

“My father is bound by the compact; my mother isn’t. She made sure I had a childhood instead of being trapped in the house. I went to school like everyone else, and I have been working as a cleaner to get enough cash for clothes. I think she is glad I’ve been called to Court. She didn’t like me running around like a human.”

“Plenty of fairies live here, acting human and rarely coming to Court.”

“Except now.” She scrunched up the paper, her burger now gone.


He covered her hand with his and squeezed gently. “Hey, there is time. Felan hasn’t even lined up a bride yet. He can’t claim the throne on his own.”

“True.” She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I suppose we have to go back.”

“It’s been a lovely afternoon.” One he didn’t really want to end. He’d never imagined that being in the mortal world surrounded by humans could be so pleasant. Not that he could imagine living here. Fairies belonged in Annwyn, if not at Court.

“Despite the food.” But there was a glint her eye and he knew she wasn’t offended by his lack of eating.

She gathered up the garbage and threw it in the bin; then they started the walk back to the doorway. On the trail they passed a few walkers, but he let the magic go and they vanished from sight, leaving them free to leave the trail and wander through the forest hand in hand—as if everything were perfect. As if they wouldn’t have to go back to ignoring each other except when required to speak and play. It was becoming harder and harder to watch and say nothing.

Verden stopped, his fingers sliding against Taryn’s. He turned around, listening.

“The doorway is this way, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “Something isn’t right.”

“We were just here.”

“No we weren’t. We joined the trail much later, as we didn’t know where we were going.” He turned again. “There’s a river here?”

She nodded but she was frowning. “There are waterfalls too.”

That wasn’t what he could sense. He felt death—and the not the usual random kind of death, but a breech in the veil. He ran through the forest, hoping it wasn’t a big tear, praying that it was nothing to worry about and something Felan could fix. He came to a stop by the body of a bear.

“What’s going on?” Taryn whispered. “Is that alive?” She took a step closer.

“Nothing is alive.” From the banks of the river spread death. The trees had shed their leaves. Squirrels lay unmoving on the ground, handfuls of gray fluff.

He walked closer, his stomach twisting until he saw the cause—a faint shimmer over the river that seemed to overspill. Not a lot, a small trickle. But it was enough. Then he saw the fairy on the other side. Felan. And he’d seen them.

“You sensed the tear?” Felan’s face was grim. His gaze skimmed over Verden and landed on Taryn.

Verden felt her stiffen. She wasn’t supposed to be in the mortal world at all and certainly not with him. He decided to ignore the obvious and stick to the problem of the river. “How did it happen?”

“I don’t know.” Felan shook his head. “I don’t think I can mend it either. There are too many. I stop one and another one opens.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Annwyn is failing.”

Verden swallowed, the lingering taste of human food on his tongue, the weight of it in his stomach. There was nothing he could do to help Felan, not without breaking his word to Gwyn.

“I know,” he said simply.

Felan nodded. “You are true to your word?”

The two men stared at each other across the river poisoned with death. “Always.” He’d sworn to Gwyn and nothing would change that.

Felan’s eyes narrowed. “Lady Taryn, I would love to know why you aren’t at Court. I’m sure I didn’t give you leave to cross the veil.”

“Now is not the time.” Verden didn’t want to be explaining what was going on, even though he knew it was already too late. Felan knew; he just wanted to hear it spoken and gain leverage.

“I think it is.” There was a look in Felan’s eye that only came when a man knew the next three moves his opponent was going to make.

He was about to get tied up in a deal he didn’t want to make just to keep his…his affair with Taryn private.

“I found a doorway by accident and Verden warned me about crossing and then we found the river,” Taryn said. But the lie had no substance, her words were too fast and too ill thought out.

“If you’re going to lie to the Prince, you have to do better than that,” Verden muttered.

“It was all I had,” she whispered back. Her fingers threaded with his. Whatever was going to happen, they were in it together.

He held her hand tightly. Not even Felan would pull her away from him.

The Prince didn’t miss the linking of their hands. He shook his head. “You are lucky it’s me standing here and not my father.”

“I’m aware of that, my Prince.” Verden inclined his head. If Felan wanted Verden to offer up himself, he’d be waiting until Annwyn froze over—which probably wasn’t that far away.

“I don’t think telling of this meeting”—Felan nodded at the tear in the veil—“would be beneficial to anyone at Court.”

Verden glanced at the silvery rip in the veil weeping death into the river and killing everything around it. He knew it would spread, that the dead animals and trees were just the start. Then he looked at the Prince. He wasn’t smiling; there were no offhand jokes and no goblet in his hand. This was the Felan that few at Court ever saw. This was the man keeping the edges of Annwyn from fraying too badly and preparing to take the throne. For all the whispers and doubts, Felan was playing a clever game, and a dangerous one. While few saw him as a threat to Annwyn, those same people didn’t think he could rule.

He could rule. He knew what he was doing and what was required. Which meant when Felan wasn’t at Court, he was doing more than fixing the tears; he was courting. That he was lining up a bride was something he wouldn’t want known, as someone could follow him and attack the woman.

“We are both spending more time than usual in the mortal world, both for work and pleasure.”

Felan nodded. “So we understand each other. Let’s not speak of this again.”

“Wait.” Taryn released Verden’s hand and stepped closer to the edge of the river. “You can’t leave this like this. People will die.”

“Taryn…” Verden tried to draw her back. They had been just about to walk away with their secret safely kept.

“I can’t do anything. If I close this one, another will open.” Felan glanced along the river. “I think letting the wound spill in one place is better than many small cuts.”

“But this spills into a river; it will spread.”

“All the tears start at a river.” Verden grasped her hand and pulled her back from the edge of the water. Bodies of water were places of death. He didn’t like standing here. He didn’t know how Felan did it.

“Educate her, will you? I don’t have time.” With that the Prince turned and walked downstream, no doubt checking how bad the damage was. Even if it wasn’t bad now, in a few hours or days it would be.

“Come on, we need to get back.” He tugged at her hand.

“He did nothing.” Her words were soft, as if she couldn’t believe the Prince of Death would let people die.

“He is right. It is better he lets a few tears bleed and monitor them, rather than sealing and guessing where the next rupture is. Would you rather one plague or hundreds?” He’d rather none. But it was too late for that. Far too late.

This time she let herself be led back to the doorway.

Verden didn’t take her straight back to the castle. He did as the Prince had asked and took Taryn to see the river of damned souls. Most fairies avoided the place. Even when everything was in balance, there was an eerie quality to the river, a silence that sent shivers up the back of most fairies and gave them a healthy fear of water.


These days the river wasn’t just eerie; it was malevolent, as if all the damned souls trapped in it were determined to break free and wreak havoc on anyone and everything. The closer they got, the thicker the carpet of brown leaves became. They crunched beneath his boots and echoed in the silence. The flower vines that twisted around the trees were withered, and the jewels of sap were black boils on the bark.

“Where are we going?”

“The river. The river of damned souls overlays every river in the mortal world. Across the veil, rivers mean life, freshwater, and food. Here it is death.” Before him spread the river, wider, rougher, and darker than ever. Waves lapped at the bases of the closest trees. Those trees were dead; frost was starting to form on the tips of the branches—the first signs of winter.

He hadn’t expected that. Autumn well established, yes, but not ice. The realization took his breath. Felan knew about this, had wanted him to see, but how many others knew that winter was creeping toward the castle?

Taryn stood silent.

As if sensing them, the river surged closer, the surface lifting as if faces and limbs were trying to break free.

“This place is horrible.”

“Necessary. Not every soul is worthy of crossing the bridge to Elysia.”

“Hell is literally breaking loose.”

Verden nodded. “Yes. Disease will spread.” Taryn knew the mortal world better than him. “Do you know what smallpox is?”

She nodded. “It was eradicated a few decades ago.” She turned to look at him. “It’s back, isn’t it?”

“It never left; it was merely contained by Felan and me. Before Gwyn took the throne, there were many years of battle between him and his brother—centuries in mortal time. Millions died of disease. The fairy population was decimated as battles were fought. It was a long, dark winter I’m told. Gwyn picked a bride in a hurry to cement his rule, but she was more in love with power than him. After his battle with his brother, he never allowed her a second child.”

“Maybe he should’ve and then we wouldn’t be here.”

“It would have happened eventually and Felan would have had to fight his sibling.”

“Why did Gwyn fight for it? Why not walk away and end it all?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Few alive now would remember. Gwyn is old; even fairies don’t live forever.”

“Felan will need a wife to balance the magic.”

“That’s why he is spending more time in the mortal world.”

“He’s not just patching the veil?”

Verden shook his head. “We keep his secret; he keeps ours.”

“Are you telling me every plague in human history comes from here?” She pointed at the river.

“All disease comes from here. Even before fairies claimed Annwyn, there were breeches in the veil. In my time as Hunter, I’ve seen big and small plagues. Every time the King and Queen fight, thousands die. Humans have got better at protecting themselves and stopping the spread, but it still happens.”

The river rippled unnaturally, faces peering from beneath the dark water.

This wasn’t how he’d wanted their time together to be. He’d wanted sunlight and laughter. He’d eat a burger, meat and all, just to go back and reclaim their afternoon, but it was lost beneath the poisoned water of the river—another early casualty in the coming battle. He sighed.

“I’m sorry our day didn’t go as planned.”

“I didn’t realize things were so bad.” Her eyes were full of pain. “I need to get my parents back, fast.”

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her. He’d bring them back now if he had that power. Only the King could. “Do what you have to with the King, and I will try not to watch.”

“Verden…I…”

“I don’t want to know.” He wouldn’t be able to live if he knew the details. “Just do what you have to as I do.”

Sex means nothing—how hollow his words were now.