Page 56 of Teeth To Rip & Tear

Kacia led me to the canteen, past rows of identical doors and endless hallways. I didn’t know if I could find my room again without her help.

The canteen was a hive of activity, more of a tavern than a modern dining room. The tables spanned the room's length, filled with wolves eating as if they wouldn’t see another meal—I supposed the Wild Hunt was the most dangerous time of the year for those in the Huntsman’s service.

I’d made it in time for breakfast, though the crowd made me want to run back to my room. In the end, hunger won out, and I followed another wolf, watching as they picked up a tray, mimicking their actions.

When I had my food, I turned to the sea of tables, unable to find a single seat amongst the masses. Resigned, I wondered if I could take my tray to my room when someone stood up and waved—belatedly realizing that it was Wyatt—Dean’s head enforcer. His red hair was a beacon in a sea of people.

Wyatt shooed several people away from his table, waving me over with a bright, pearly white smile.

I would have turned away and sat somewhere else, but a seat couldn’t be found.

The others made their excuses, getting up to leave, and I tried not to let it bother me.

I didn’t say thank you as I sat on the bench and picked up my fork.

I had no idea what any of the food on my tray was. An unfamiliar game dish made of cream and mushrooms. A cup of brown unsweetened tea and some stewed greens.

I focused on my food, though I felt Wyatt’s gaze.

“The tea isn’t to your liking?” He snarked.

“I’m from Tennessee.” I smiled feebly. “Unless you pour half a bag of sugar in there, it’s not sweet enough.”

“So…” Wyatt narrowed his eyes. “How about that hunt last night.”

I hummed but said nothing as I cut into my meat.

“Did Dean know you’re a wolf?” He goaded. “I knew there was something off about you. I’m glad my instincts proved right. Never trust a girl with wide, helpless eyes.”

“I am not a wolf. I am a Weaver.” I snapped.

“And the Huntsman has it wrong?” Wyatt cocked his head to the side. “You’re going to have to explain this to me.”

I winced. “He’s not wrong. I just… I’m both, okay? My grandmother is Sídhe, and my grandfather was Wolfkin. My mother was half, and my father was Wolfkin. Do you need my entire family tree?”

Wyatt shook his head, shooting me a look I didn’t like. “You asked for our protection, dishonestly, I might add. We would have rallied to protect you if you’d told us the truth.”

“I’m Sídhe.” I pointed out. “I can’t lie.”

“You certainly can.” Wyatt rolled his eyes. “I suppose being a Weaver has its advantages. You could see the magic lastnight, couldn’t you? It was how you found the Horned Lord so fast.”

“The Horned Lord?” I echoed, wondering if he meant the white stag. It had been an animal, hadn’t it?

“Horned Lords are rare. I’m certain the Huntsman would not have sent us hunting for it if he knew.” Wyatt lifted his cup, eying me over the rim as he sipped. “They shouldn’t be in the Human Realities. They’re too powerful, but we do not kill them. There is a fine line between wild Fae and the Durrach.”

“How do you determine which side of the line something falls on?” I sat forward, genuinely curious.

“Typically, the Durrach eat sentient creatures,” Wyatt told me.

“But you eat meat?”

“I do.” He nodded. “And I often hunt and eat what I kill in the forest. I do not eat humans. The Tuatha Dé Danann do not want the walls between our dimensions to crumble, and the more Fae that come to the Human Realities, the more the barrier ceases to exist.”

“Tuatha Dé Danann? The gods?”

Wyatt put his cup down. “The Huntsman does the gods' duty in the Aos Sí. I don’t pretend to know the gods' will, but it makes it easier to understand why he enslaved the wolves as he did.”

Wyatt had defended the Huntsman before, though I had no idea why. I eyed him as if he was mad. “Youlikeserving him?”

---