Page 10 of A Storm Rises

“I pray I gain your favor, Father.” Her stomach turned. She had to say that or face his wrath. She knew deep in her heart that she would never truly win him over. For some unknown reason, he seemed to hate his firstborn daughter.

His lip curled with satisfaction. He shifted his stance, blocking even more of the fire with his tall and sleek frame. “The Summit Range Hunt is in two days. The sudden loss of Engrendorn has me searching for a new hunter to replace him.” He folded his arms. “Someone who is skilled, capable, and above all else, loyal.” He moved closer and stared her down like his pet rabbit. “Someone who will do as I command without question.”

Without question? She wasn’t sure about that part, but she wanted to prove herself in the hunt. She had the best aim in Summit Range, probably all of Faevenly. Though she despised her father’s tactics and manner, she remained a Stromm—loyal to her house and name. A win might make her father view her as an equal, someone worthy of inheriting the crown without groveling. With her position secured, she’d spare her little sister from her father’s cruel eye. “I can do it. I can win.”

He held up his hand and paused her words. “Before I select the hunter, there are matters that must be acknowledged and accepted.”

“Yes?” Her body tensed as she prepared herself for whatever he had in mind.

“The Sublands have been invited to participate in this year’s competition.” He tightened the grip on his dagger’s hilt. “They are sending a hunter to the palace as we speak.”

She drew in her chin. “A lowborn?” Father always said they were not worthy of standing beside highborns. “Why? What changed?”

“A bargain has been struck.” He paused as if waiting for her reaction. She had none, not yet. The revelation had taken her words. Bargains were dangerous work, especially with her father. “They have asked to be included in exchange for a new rule, the penalty of death for last place.”

Avalynn squinted and shook her head. The Sublanders had made a silly wager. Lowborns had no chance against highborns. “Why would they do that?” It made no sense. Everyone knew their human blood made them weak. They were sure to come in last. “Why sacrifice one of their own?”

His grip tightened on his dagger’s hilt. “We do not know the skill set of their hunter, though it appears they have great confidence in their chosen one.” Tension strained his broad shoulders. “My advisers and I believe they are plotting something.”

“But Father, if they?—”

“Silence!” he interrupted with his neck veins bulging over his collar. “We will control this outcome, no one else!”

She wanted to yell right back, threaten him with her own dagger, but kept still. The last time she defied him, he confined her to the dungeon for a full moon cycle. She thought she would meet death there and wished for it at times. “Of course, we will. I did not mean to suggest otherwise.”

He breathed heavily. “The Stromm hunter will not compete to win. He or she must ensure the Sublands lose. Engrendorn knew this. His replacement must follow his lead.”

“Not win?” She wanted to win more than anything. Her skills far surpassed any hunter, and would especially surpass any Sublander. Now, she had to not win on purpose? “I do not understand, Father.”

His brows furrowed into a formidable V-shape, casting deep shadows over his eyes. “You do not need to understand anything. Only obey.” He leaned forward and control brimmed from his cruel eyes. Was he about to compel her? “The hunter’s mission will be to sabotage the Sublander. Nothing more.”

Nothing more? She did not think so. In the time he gave the directive, she’d already figured it out. She would make sure the Sublander came in last while still finding a way to win. It should not be that hard.

She would do it all—win and prove her worth to her father. “I can do that.”

He stepped away from her and moved closer to the fire. “If you fail, you could be facing the death penalty for finishing last.”

Fail? She had never failed at anything in her life. She would not start with the hunt. But since her father was including her, he had stamped her as expendable. That’s what he was saying. She swallowed, a deep knot forming in her throat. “I will not be last.”

He circled the room with slow and deliberate steps, like he was a hunter and she, his prey. She didn’t appreciate being put in that position, especially by her own flesh and blood, her own father. Rising, she clasped her hands behind her back and waited for her father’s next move.

“Silence is required. You may share that you will be replacing Engrendorn. But you will tell no one your true purpose, other than the Master of the Blade. You will not mention this to your mother or your sister. Or the maids who serve you. Or the other hunters.” He tightened his circular path until he practically brushed against her with each step. “You will not even discuss it with me after I leave this room.” He stopped in front of her. “Do you understand?”

His stance, the tidal wave of darkness behind his eyes, and the growing depth in his voice—he was one blink away from compelling her. Then, she would be forced to obey regardless of choice. She did not want that and avoided it at all costs.

She squared her shoulders and tamped down the rising fear inside her. “I will tell no one.”

“Good. It is agreed. You are appointed the Summit Range Hunter for House Stromm.” Before leaving her bedchamber, he looked back. “Do not fail me.”

“I will not fail.”

The door shut behind him, and a surge of radical emotions raced through her. Excitement at competing, anger at her father’s willingness to put her at risk, fear that something would go wrong. But one emotion overrode all the others—determination. She would succeed at all costs.

That Sublander hunter was as good as dead.

Avalynn traced the thin cuts on her hands while her father’s rich oak, moss, and clove scent lingered. The urgent pulse of her new reality overshadowed the joy of riding the Enbarr. Her mind fixed on her new mission. She needed to learn everything about her fellow competitors. Especially the Sublander. Her life and the honor of House Stromm depended on it.

Her door opened, and Maid Nia whisked in. A white dress hugged her slender and petite frame. A thin blue headband kept her long, silver hair out of her heart-shaped face. She approached, easily balancing the cup and saucer on the gold tray.

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