Page 6 of The Wild Hunt

The curse of our kind is that we don’t know who our bonds are, the people we are fated to combine our life force with for eternity. We just feel drawn to them. It’s only once we have sex that our bond marks appear and we feel that connection, like a soft low hum that builds over time. We feel the high emotions of our bonded but otherwise the bond can be easily ignored. Finding your bonded is rare, but has led to the Fae being very open sexually.

The day after they bonded, she left.

“I wanted to find her, she was my best friend too after all. And even without finding her, The Hunt can be entertaining some years,” I say, my voice measured. “There’s always someone who’s an oath breaker, someone The Hunt deems worthy. No one is ever truly honest anymore.”

Lorcan arches an elegant eyebrow, his gaze piercing as though he can see the cracks in my words. Even he knows how rare it is for The Hunt to find a true target these days. His pale eyes reflect skepticism, but something sharper, hungrier, flickers behind them as he steps closer, so close that our arms brush. The electric energy that surrounds him intensifies, and it takes everything in me not to lean into it, to let it swallow me whole.

“You just need a worthy prey. If The Hunt no longer provides, perhaps it’s time to look elsewhere. The women at court bleed just as prettily.”

A chill runs down my spine, and this time I don’t bother hiding my reaction. Lorcan’s words are deliberate, meant to provoke. He knows what lies beneath the surface—the restlessness, the hunger that grows with every passing year. The itch for something more than The Hunt has to offer. Something darker.

“I don’t need distractions,” I mutter, though the heat of him so close is making it difficult to concentrate. I turn my gaze backto the forest, but the scent of the earth no longer grounds me as it did moments ago. Instead, it feels distant, like everything else lately.

Lorcan shifts until the line of his body brushes against my side, his imposing presence difficult to ignore. “You need something to hold your attention,” he continues, his breath a velvet warmth against my ear. “And if The Hunt no longer excites you, perhaps it’s time to seek new forms of entertainment.”

The room seems smaller with Lorcan standing so close, his energy crackling in the air between us, teasing the edges of restraint I'd carefully built over the years. His words, dark and provocative, slide into the cracks of my self-control, igniting an old desire I hadn’t let myself acknowledge in too long.

He was always like this—pushing, probing, daring me to slip, to let go of my rigid discipline. The air thickens, the tension palpable. The last time we were this close, the world faded away, leaving only the two of us and the heat of our shared breath. But that was before.

I catch the meaning behind his words, the subtle invitation. Lorcan doesn’t bother hiding his tastes anymore. He likes making the courtiers bleed, enjoying their fear. He’s made it clear that I should join him again, that it’s been too long since I indulged. But when I joined the hunt, I had to give up that part of myself. Whilst I serve as a Huntsman, I could not harm other fae or sidhe outside of a hunt, and they could not challenge me in return. But I do miss it. I do miss him.

There is a calling inside me that craves violence, and Lorcan is the same. I think that is why we became so close when we were young. We can sense the need to fight within each other, which has led to us creating many games. But it’s not the kind of game meant to coax happiness. No, Lorcan deals in darker pleasures—the kind that leaves marks, the kind that spills blood. The airbetween us crackles with it, and the space feels too small, too charged.

“And if I were to indulge in this... form of entertainment,” I murmur, glancing sideways at him, “would you like me to join in publicly instead of behind closed doors? Would that please yourmajesty?”

Lorcan’s lips curl into a knowing smile, one that doesn’t reach his cold eyes. Before I became a Huntsman, he kept a lot of his darker inclinations to private quarters. That changed whensheran away from him. Now he feeds off the terror he incites. “You know me too well, Cianán. Some pleasures are best enjoyed openly. Let the court see. Let themtremble.”

The idea lingers, stoking something dormant inside me. It’s been so long since I helped to stir fear in this lifeless place. The court, with its endless shallow games, has forgotten what I’m capable of. They think I’ve been chained by the hunt, by my vow. Perhaps it’s time to remind them. The Huntsman is only temporary, the span of a century or two. It’s a role I chose but not who I really am. It’s simply a mask, one I can choose to pass to someone else.

I glance back at Lorcan, who watches me with those pale, calculating eyes, always a step ahead. So cold yet burning with an intensity that never fails to catch me off guard. He is the king, and yet, in moments like these, there was an unspoken pull between us, something more primal, more dangerous than any game we’d played at court. He knows what he’s tempting me towards, and he’s waiting—waiting to see if I’ll bite.

His hand hovers near my arm, not touching but close enough that I could feel the heat of him, the electric charge of his power. My muscles tense, every instinct screaming to either close the gap or step away. To indulge or deny.

“I’ll consider it,” I say, my voice measured. “But perhaps after this year’s hunt. One last trip to the villages to see if there’s anything left worth chasing.”

“Of course,” Lorcan replies smoothly, as though he’d already expected my answer. “But when The Hunt fails to satisfy you, I’ll be waiting with something much more... engaging.” His smile widens, and I feel the crackling energy of his power fill the room once more.

I nod, already feeling the itch for something more gnawing at me. The hunt has grown dull, but after this year, perhaps I’ll give Lorcan the spectacle he craves.

“It’s been too long since the marble of the throne room has seen color you haven’t created yourself,” I say, my voice softer now, almost to myself.

Lorcan’s grin sharpens. “Indeed. White is such a dull color, don’t you think? I’d appreciate a more... vibrant display. Perhaps, crimson?”

I turn away from the window, feeling a new sense of purpose settle over me. The hunt will come and go, as it always does. But after? It might be time to wake the court from its stupor. Lorcan and I always do create the greatest entertainment. Humans think that the Roman Colosseum was once a spectacle for violence and terror, but they have never seen what the strongest of the fae court is capable of, especially amongst their own kind.

He sighs, his eyes turning sad. “I know you took on the mask of the Huntsman because I couldn’t leave here so soon after taking the throne, and because of who we are to each other. But I meant what I said. It’s been a hundred years, it’s time to give up searching for someone who does not wish to be found,” he says. “Don’t be gone too long, Cianán. I’m looking forward to your return…. I miss you.”

His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken longing, and for a moment, I’m caught between my duty and the dangerousallure of our bond and what we could be together. What wewere. His hand brushes softly against mine, that lightning arcing between our fingers, before he turns and makes his way toward the door.

As the door shuts behind him, the silence lingers, but it’s no longer the oppressive quiet that gnawed at me moments before. Instead, it hums with possibilities, a thrill I haven’t felt in centuries. My fingers trace the wood of the branch absently, its rough texture grounding me even as my mind dances with darker thoughts.

Suddenly a strange sound reaches me, a faint melody on the wind, teasing at the edges of my awareness. I pause, my senses sharpening. It’s familiar in a way that claws at something long forgotten within me. A voice from the past, perhaps? Or a memory resurfacing after being buried for so long?

Curiosity stirs, and I close my eyes, letting the melody pull me in. The song floats through the air like a ghost, weaving through the trees and into my quarters. Its haunting, bittersweet tune seems to call directly to me, tugging at something deep and primal. A part of me that I’d thought long dead awakens with a vengeance, an ancient hunger.

Smiling to myself, I cast my senses outward, seeking the source. Ennisvarra? It has been so long since anything worthwhile caught my interest there, yet this song... it holds a strange power.

Perhaps one of the villages will provide a new form of entertainment after all.

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