Page 9 of Bounty Hunter

He frowns, appearing to be confused about why I need that random piece of information.

“A singular Tulip is also called a Queen of the Night, the group of them Queens of the Night. Have you heard of them?”

I slide my hand down my face, weary. This can’t be right. This can’t be his solution.

“My lord?” Jethonan asks, confused.

“I can never, neverbridge with aTulip, as you call them. They were killed for a reason.”

He stands so still it’s like I literally sucked the joyous air from his billowing sails.

I continue, “As I’m sure you’ve learned through your reading, kings used to bridge with Queens of the Night. It was common and encouraged. Then a seer saw a Black Tulip bridged with our enemy and our kingdom destroyed.” I give him a pointed look.

“Ah, you speak of the seer vision, which unfortunately, triggered the hunt and murder of the Tulips. You are correct that the vision showed a Tulip bridging with an enemy, which led to the downfall of lucent magic and our kingdom.” He says it all rather quickly and to the point. “But we all know that seer visions are quite subjective and are rarely accurately predictive of the future. And just a theory on my part, but I believe that enemy is still magically banished. Though for how long, I don’t know, with the state of lucent and gloam.”

He isn’t wrong about seer visions not being accurate, but to completely disregard a seer vision is also unwise. Finally, I look up and say heavily, “There is a reason they are named after the night, is there not?” He stares at me blankly, so I continue in an overly patient voice, “Night… darkness… gloam creatures… evil…?”

He snorts and then he leans forward and laughs, his brown hair swinging with the motion. I’m not amused. I’m about to kick him out of my office when he finally stops and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe that explanation is the reason our world is being overtaken by gloam magic. It’s ridiculous.” He waves a hand through the air like it’s preposterous. “And unfortunate for those Tulips who were needlessly murdered. The past cannot be undone,” he frowns and then lifts a finger, “but it can be prevented from happening again. Now, moving on.”

He opens the second book, and the pages whir before my face again. These must have come from his personal library because I swear I get a hint of that rancid fruit healing potion he was working on last week, and I lean away. The pages settle, and he takes a second to find the right section, then he spins the book toward me and points.

“It says here that magic keeps at least five Tulips in existence at a time.”

“Your point?”

“You, all of us, are in a desperate situation. You either take a calculated risk by bridging with a Tulip or the kingdom continues to decline beneath the weight of gloam while people continue to die. You and the Tulips were made tobridge. You, as king, were intended to be a protector to them, and in return, they keep lucent magic strong and gloam in check.” My browspull lower, not liking that what he says makes sense. Even with my darkening expression, he continues. And this is why I chose him as my advisor. “Now, may I be honest?”

“Aren’t you always?” I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.

“Only a figure of speech, my lord.” He smiles tightly and quickly continues. “Magic chooses the Tulips, one or two out of thousands may stray from the duty instilled in their souls and turn evil. But if there is any sort of power struggle to worry about, I’d say it would more likely begin with the kings.”

I ponder what he says for a moment. I don’t like that it makes sense. If I allow it, it will pick at the strings of doubt freshly cut by Jethonan and quickly unravel the comfortable and familiar beliefs about the balance of power and magic I’ve been taught since I was a boy. I was raised to be thekingof my kingdom. The one with absolute power, authority, and control. Things aren’t perfect, we struggle at times, but the inner workings of my kingdom run like a well-oiled wagon wheel. Beside the fact that it’s practically disintegrating at the edges from gloam. I clench my jaw. I admit that the reality that I can’t control the strength of magic in my kingdom any more than I can manipulate the suns in the sky has me frustrated. After years of dedicated learning and effort, years of weapons training, and years of battle experience, according to Jethonan, I’m to completely rely on and trust some unknown woman to save my kingdom, simply because she’s marked with a flower. I don’t like it.

“I’ll think about it.”

Just saying so twists my chest into a knot. He nods and gathers his books, chattering about needing to get back to another project he’s working on, but I don’t really hear him as my thoughts spin and churn. Could I do it? Could I search outa Tulip, marry her,bridgewith her? If what I’ve been told is a lie, what havetheybeen told? What about Nadiette? And would the King’s Council ever agree to a plan such as this?

Chapter 6

Vera

Iget varying reactions when I tell people what I do for work. The Tulips give me looks of confusion bordering on horror. Some people take one look at me and think I’m full of it—don’t believe me a bit. A very few seem impressed. Maybe it’s my petite size, or maybe I have the face of one who looks too young. I dunno, but I kinda like the startle I get when I tell someone new.

I’m choosy about the criminals I help chase. I learned that the hard way when I first started out. Took a Class A bounty for the large reward offered. I was a dirt-poor newbie, and it was too tempting. I found out real quick to never take a Class A again. The hunter I contracted with ended up dead, the bounty escaped, and I was on the run with no money or food at just eighteen. Big fail, that one. Had to eat roots and leaves from the forest and the rare fish I was able to catch for over a month until I found my way back to civilization and picked another contract up. Let’s just say, my talents don’t lie in navigation or my sense of direction. Somehow, I survived, but if thathappened now, I’d be dead four times over. Gloam has always been a problem, but now it’s a formidable opponent.

So yeah, it’s dangerous to wander the gloam-infested forests, but other than that first time, I’ve always had a hunter nearby for protection. I work smarter now than I did eight years ago. We’ve come upon gloam creatures and forest beasts that were here before gloam was even a problem, but both are dangerous. I simply lend the hunter a bit more magic—they can’t tell mine is white and not the more yellow sunshine color of a true Originator unless I were to send a literal fountain of it—and he usually takes care of it quick. And at times when I’m on my own, I have my trusty short sword. I rub a hand down the worn pommel and aged leather grip. In all, bounty assisting is all about teamwork, and I like to think I’m rather good at it by now.

I lean back against a large tree and cross my legs as the last of the three suns sets. The thick fabric of my loose trousers is already worn and filthy, so I don’t worry about sitting in the dirt. One of many benefits of drowning myself in men’s clothing. Rupi hops from tree branch to tree branch above me, her happy chirps carrying softly in the breeze. I rip off a large piece of jerky that the burly hunter, Ravio, gave me. He’s not a talker, but he sure likes to eat, and I’m not complaining. I’m never better fed than on bounty jobs, with fresh-caught meat cooked over the fire every night, and sometimes even fish. Their packs are always loaded with jerky, dried fruit, nuts, and sometimes even bread and cheese if we aren’t gone too long. My loose clothing appreciates the extra food, and I chew it contentedly. Another benefit of working with hunters, most of them have a hearty appetite and almost never skip meals, unlike healers. My stomach cramps at the memory of working with Mardine, awoman so devoted to her work that I was woken at all hours of the night and skipped days of meals at a time as we traveled to help those in need. A worthy job, but a hungry one, one that my already willowy frame could barely afford. And so, besides Mr. Eddieren, I stick to bounty hunting for survival.

Across camp, the bounty we caught two days ago sits beside the fire where the hunter keeps a close eye on him. He’s considered a Class C criminal, the lowest of the three grades. I’ll only take a Class B contract if I’m feeling desperate, since the higher grade the criminal is, the better the pay. But I never take Class A grade bounty contracts, even though they pay more than any other contract of any other profession I could take. I prefer to live.

My part in this job has consisted of lending my raw magic for about two minutes, while Ravio cuffed the guy and I ensured he had plenty of magic to work with, if needed. Ravio’s huge and powerful enough in his own right, but he’s also smart and knows there are other things to avoid while we trek through the forest. He’s basically traveled the forest his entire life, at least that’s what I got from the few words he’s spoken.

We’ll be back to the city to turn the criminal in by tomorrow afternoon, and this time, even with the end of the good food, I can’t wait. While I love the hunter appetite and hearty meals, this criminal is giving me the creeps. His green gaze meets mine, and while he’s good looking enough, his eyes emanate something dark. His lip curls when my eyes snag on his, and I quickly avert my gaze. I’ve seen his type before, the ones whose eyes showcase the darkness of their souls while masking it with a handsome face. I’ve seen others who smell, and look, as if they rolled right out of a pig pen, some who’ve lost their sanity and laugh like madmen the entire trip to prison,and a rare few who seem to be perfectly innocent. Usually, those innocent looking ones are women, and they’re a dangerous sort. Definite downside to bounty hunting—the criminals. I’ve met more than enough for my lifetime. Over the course of my adult years, I’ve taken more bounty contracts than I can remember, so none of this is new to me. But I’m done after this one. I have one more contract with Mr. Eddieren that I’ve already lined up, and then I’mfree.

I think of the odd assortment of items I’ve gathered over the years of my travels. Unusual candlestick holders with shapes and bases forged into animals that I bought from a traveling shifter merchant. An assortment of spider silk clothing I’ve snagged from my wealthy fae aunt, Mama Tina. She always has a pile of clothes for me a mile high when I visit that I pack away since they are completely impractical for my line of work. I even have a pair of earrings shaped as tiny, intricate,usableknives that a weapon master enchanted for me. I would have claimed them as my own, but with no more than basic sword training, I worried I’d end up stabbing one of the minuscule blades into my own neck. Instead, they sit carefully wrapped and stored with all my other precious wares, waiting for a shop to be sold in. I currently carry a fancy comb engraved with flowering vines and small gems. I’ll store it with the others at Mama Tina’s when I get there.

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