Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Lizzie, right?”
The vampire stares at me blankly for long enough that a smarter man than I would retreat. At least until the redhead smacks her lightly. “Stop it. You know there’s no murder on Nox’s ship.”
“Fun to picture it, though.” Lizzie takes a sip of whatever is in her cup. “What do you want?”
I glance at the redhead and then smile when I recognize her. “Maeve. You’re the selkie from Viedna who was a key informant. You did good work.”
She blushes prettily. “Thank you.” Then she smacks Lizzie again with the kind of flirty familiarity that speaks volumes. “Be nice. He almost died.”
“How many people have died because of the rebellion?” The vampire surveys me with the kind of derision that I’ve only witnessed in my parents’ eyes. “You’re noble. Playing captive must have been the first time things didn’t go your way.”
I don’t argue with her. There’s no point. I’ve been hurt and harmed and gone without plenty of times since leaving Lyari, but there’s a thread of truth in Lizzie’s accusation, because I always had a cushion of family money to fall back on, at least in theory. All I had to do to access it was go home.
“Lizzie,” the blonde says playfully. “You’re scaring the poor man.”
“No, I’m not.”
They have a sense of history that’s interesting. I remember reading about the vampire. Siobhan was particularly interested in her in Nox’s reports. She and Maeve obviously have some kind of relationship going, but she and the blonde just as obviously have history. “You’re not from Threshold.”
“What an astute observation,” Lizzie mutters.
The blonde rolls her eyes. “I’m Evelyn.” She holds out a hand.
I take it and give a light shake. “Bastian. Nice to meet you.”
“Lizzie and I come from a different realm, though the portal back to it is shattered now due to some…unfortunate circumstances.” She beams at me, her charisma nearly knocking me out of my seat. “I suspect you know that, though, because Siobhan knows and you were traveling with her.”
Traveling with her. That’s quite the tactful statement, especially considering that Siobhan can barely stand the sight of me these days. “Yes, I’m aware of you.” I lean forward and prop my elbows on the table, ignoring the faint hiss from Lizzie. She’s a prickly one, and although I’m not fool enough to underestimate her, from the lack of fear or concern from the other two, I assume she’s simply posturing. “I wanted to ask you a question that Nox voiced. We know the Cŵn Annwn run through many realms’ myths, but I’d like to know yours.”
Evelyn’s smile doesn’t change, but her pretty green eyes sharpen. “Bowen said he mentioned the Wild Hunt to Nox last night.”
That must have been what got them thinking about it. “How does one call the Wild Hunt in your world?” I don’t even know why the question matters, only that Nox felt it important enough to wake up from bloody magical burnout to ask. The very least I can do is investigate their words while they’re still out.
“I don’t think they are called.” Evelyn frowns a little. “They show up in myths and stories over an entire continent in my realm, so it’s possible that there’s an answer to that I’m not aware of, but to the best of my knowledge, they run either randomly or based on a moon cycle or time of year.”
Maeve taps her fingers on the table. “There are a lot of different calls that go on during a mundane hunt, though. It’s not silent, regardless of whether it happens in the water or the forest. Horns, drums, the kinds of instruments that can relay orders over long distances without shouting.”
“Sure, in a normal hunt.” Evelyn shrugs. “This is a magical one. In some myths, they’re perfectly silent; in others, it’s a giant party. Whatever the original experience that spawned the myths, each culture has taken its own spin on it, which might be important or might just be how myths work.”
Their words wash over me as they continue discussing it, but little penetrates the sudden flurry of my thoughts. Horns. Drums. We don’t have much use for mundane methods of hunting things in Lyari, where the Cŵn Annwn are plentiful and all the noble families have some kind of claim to magic.
But there is a horn. It sits on a magically protected stand hidden deep in the library in the center of Lyari, on the ground floor below the Council’s meeting chamber. Technically, the noble families have access to the library whenever they like, but I have only visited a few times on one errand or another for my father. The horn is massive enough that I don’t think I could lift it, twisted and curved unlike any other I’ve seen before, the carvings in its surface inlaid with gold and jewels and spells for a purpose I couldn’t begin to guess.