Page 108 of Hunted in the Shadows
Impressed murmurs swam around me, and I couldn’t help but swell a bit at this fantasy—that I had conquered a fairy’s worst nightmare. I supposed it wasn’t that far from the truth.
“How did you come about these hunters?” a bearded man in a vest asked.
My initial stammering brought heat to my face. I focused on what I’d learned from Jon and Cliff when they lied for information or to stay under the radar—throw in pieces of the truth and they’ll latch onto the honesty without questioning the lies.
“I intercepted them while they were hunting amactir,” I said in a hushed voice, drawing the others to lean closer to hear. “They wounded me, right through the wing.” I pointed at the scar, prompting little gasps of sympathy. “But that was the last time they dared hurt me.”
My pause, naturally, was met with whispers of, “What did you do?”
“I convinced them I wanted to help end themactirin exchange for my freedom. Of course, I knew they’d never let me go. Unfortunately for them, it was too late. It was all too easy to glamour them into doing my bidding the moment they let their guard down.”
A flush crept up my neck and painted my cheeks as I drank in the wide-eyed looks of admiration around me. As I gazed along the table, I wondered if anyone else here was a legendary hero like Marcellus. For all I knew, I was being fawned over by every fabled warrior I looked up to.
When I reached for the platter of blackberry tarts, I realized with a start that they were a raspberry variety instead.
The food rotated too swiftly at this feast that I worried I might not sample it all. When would I have another opportunity?
“What happened then?” the woman in the green dress asked.
I looked up from my plate to find that she was actually in a blood-red gown—or was I looking at the wrong person? I blinked hard. I couldn’t have missed such a rich color.
“We completed the hunt,” I said slowly. “Themactirwas unstable and far too close to my home village. From there, I began using the hunters as protection on my gem scavenging journey. But… glamour is easier to maintain when a semblance of their purpose remains intact.” I smiled impishly, as though I were describing children who needed to be at play. “I give them a chance to unleash their bloodlust, of course, so they still hunt the beasts that would mean to harm fairies. And I rescue those innocents whom the hunters would kill without a second thought—like Aureline.”
The bearded man shook his head in fond disbelief. “My dear, are you certain you don’t have noble blood running through your veins? Precious stars…”
I shrugged humbly, hesitating when I noted the color of his tunic seemed lighter than before—and I was sure he’d been wearing a vest. “If I have noble blood, my village certainly didn’t appreciate it. I was branded for what I did.”
The bearded man stared, then shook his head. “Well, branded or not, it seems that fate has a way of revealing noble hearts. Even if it’s much delayed.” His eyes twinkled as he lifted his cup, sloshing wine in a toast. The fairies around me murmured their jovial agreement, wings refracting delicate light from the glow of a hundred fae lights flickering around us.
“To Sylvia—the warrior!” the man declared.
Everyone at our table followed suit, making my cheeks flush—not from the wine, but from the overwhelming sense of acceptance. It was dizzying. My free hand grasped at thegemstone pendant around my neck for comfort as I touched my cup to all those I could reach.
As I touched my glass to Marcellus’, our eyes caught meaningfully.
“Indeed,” he said. “I’d have a hard time finding someone more worthy of the title.”
I sipped at my drink, trying to calm my heart becauseEdin the Valiantjust called mea warrior.
A pair of hands grasped my shoulders. A woman with plaited hair and a sapphire gown smiled down at me as I turned. “Someone like you deserves a rune to match,” she crooned, tucking hair behind my ear. “Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”
My lips parted as I met Marcellus’ honeyed eyes. “Would you like that?” he asked.
I traced the rune gleaming on his bare shoulder with my eyes.Yes, I wanted to blurt. Another dream of mine that I had shoved into a drawer long ago and let collect dust. My cheek stung with the memory of the mark I did have. It was sobering, remembering that night. The shattered pottery on the floor. The white-hot, painful stinging. I didn’t realize I was clutching my arm until Marcellus’ warm hand laid overtop mine.
“It won’t hurt,” he assured. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I met his gaze, unable to mask my vulnerability this time. But perhaps I didn’t need to. I gave a tremulous nod, emboldened as the fairies around the table cheered and pounded the table.
I thought of the long journey left ahead to Aelthorin. When would I have another opportunity?
Marcellus stood, adjusting the rings on his fingers. He beckoned a fairy sitting halfway down the table, whispering something in her ear. Her eyes widened as she looked from the commander to me. But it was clear whatever he said, it had not been a suggestion. The gossamer cloak cinched beneath her wingsbillowed out behind her as she urgently cut through the lines of packed tables toward the door.
I had half a mind to pry, but my thoughts flickered out when Marcellus put his hands on me again. He spun me around with a certain grace that made my heart stammer—the kind of grace that came from centuries of practice. His gaze glimmered with that delightful, dangerous mischief as he positioned himself, his hands on my right shoulder—opposite the iron burn. Fairies crowded closer like old friends, anticipation humming in their murmurs.
“Relax,” Marcellus said, his voice a purr beside my ear.
His lips didn’t move as magic flooded to his hands, white and crackling with energy. Despite his assurances, I braced myself. But when his finger touched my skin, it waswarm—not blazing hot. A sigh left me as the marking was meticulously traced.
