Page 62 of The Huntsman's Heart
What hope is there, though, when I am competing against her harem of perfectly carved gargoyles who worship the ground she walks on and construct elaborate gifts from thin air in a few nights?
None.
There never was.
I turn and stalk from the tower, out into the night, unwilling to leave but unable to stay.
Corvin
“I do not like the way the huntsman looks at her,” I say quietly to Raban when the tall lich turns and leaves the tower. Good riddance. If only I thought he would leave the castle altogether.
“What way is that?” my brother asks with his typical open, easy tone. He has always been too trusting. We are standing by the princess’s bedside, watching over her while the hounds watch the gate.
“Like he never wants to look away,” I say bitterly.
Raban laughs. “You mean the way we all look at her?”
I scowl. “What right has he? After what he did.”
Finally Raban’s expression grows serious. “Do you think one can atone for their sins?”
“Oneshould not have to. What possible excuse is there for the sins that he committed?”
Raban sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed, softly brushing a stray hair from the princess’s cheek. “If he truly is bound to this witch queen like he claims, then is that not some excuse?”
“Not enough.” My tail flicks against my leg. I glance over to where Évandre stands in the open window, looking down at the courtyard. “Do you truly think our princess wants him around?”
“I cannot answer for her. You will have to wait and ask her when she wakes.”
“If she wakes,” I say.
“When.” Raban looks around at me. “Whenshe wakes. He brought her back to us. You will see. He cannot be all bad.”
I narrow my eyes, studying Raban’s expression. After only a moment, though, his dart away, confirming my suspicion. “You like him.”
He smiles shyly. “He is powerful. And handsome. He brings her pleasure.”
“I knew it. Do not be fooled because you like the way he looks. He is a monster.”
“I think if the princess thought so she would have left him bound while she found a way to destroy him, but she set him free. She must see some good in him.”
I scoff. “What she sees and what the truth is might be two different matters.”
Raban shakes his head. “She is more like you. More like to find the flaw in the stitching than to stand back and see the pattern.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I am not like that.”
He looks at me, and I swipe my hand at him in a dismissive gesture. “Alright. Perhaps I am a little like that. But someone needs to be cautious.”
“True. She’s not cautious, but I think she is wise in her way. You’ll see.”
I sigh. Like it or not, the huntsman is here, and I will not drive him away before I consult the princess. Not unless I have a firm reason. So far he has not shown his hand. But that does not mean I will not watch him and wait.
“I’ll fetch a basin of water and a towel,” I say to Raban. I know he will not leave her side until she wakes or until the sun comes up to force him.
He grunts, not looking away from the princess, and I trudge down the stairs, mind ruminating on the huntsman. I find him pacing the courtyard, face grim. Knochenwolf, Grimmfang, and Varkhul are watching him warily, and I make sure to give each of them a scratch behind the ears in gratitude. Then I hesitate. The water will only take a moment to bring up from the well. I might as well just light a fire now to heat it with and fetch it in a moment.
Lingering in the courtyard, I set some kindling in a pile and fetch some flint. When I have a spark, I add dry leaves and build it into a flame.
