Page 7 of Bane of the Wild Hunt

So I did not understand, and I was terrified that he was merely being his stubborn and rebellious self by choosing a mate of whom he knew his mother would not approve.

Many griffins stared at her, Imítheos and Ktínos alike, with open curiosity and suspicion. Everyone had heard by now about the summer dryad who had come to court and proclaimed the king was returning with an intended mate. And despite the Steward Queen’s best attempts to keep the news quiet, everyone had heard this intended mate of the king was a fire witch.

Ares walked up on the other side of her and bristled at the gawkers, his lips curling to expose his fangs at them. Even the Imítheosmágoiknew better than to tempt the wrath of the Árgoesi Warhammer, a fitting nickname that Ares earned thanks to his brutal and relentless violence on the battlefield. Everyone quickly jerked their eyes away from the witch which of course was why Riordan had chosen the brute as her personal guardian.

I yanked my attention away from the witch when Riordan walked forward. He moved with a commanding confidence as he prepared to confront his mother and the four other oligarchs of the city-states. The finely dressed crowd of Imítheos courtiers all pressed closer together as if he were a wild animal stalking toward them.

Theo, Iris, and Helena stayed close at Riordan’s back, flanking him in a display of solidarity, although he did not typically require their protection. Myskiáwas nearly unmatched in his magic even before he had inherited the mantle as our king, and now he was truly without equal. But he was still weak from being drained of his power and hints of the foul blood magic still tainted his veins.

“Riordan,” the Steward Queen greeted him once he reached the dais upon which she and the other nobles stood looking down on him. The uncertainty in her voice betrayed a mixture of relief that her son was finally home and concern for what his return would mean for them.

“Mother,” he responded, thankfully not in Gaelic as he had been insisting upon since we were reunited.

My king stopped at the edge of the dais, allowing his mother to be the one to decide how she would like to receive him. And after a brief deliberation, she made her choice and stepped away from the other nobles. A few faces tensed in disapproval, but Andromeda embraced her son with all the cold reservation that could be expected of an Imítheos noble.

“I am glad you are home,” she told him, and I was sure she meant it genuinely. Her hands lingered on his biceps as they parted, and she looked up to search his face in curiosity. I could see her noting the same things that I had when I first looked upon him. Life alone in the mortal world had obviously been taxing for him, and she would surely be asking herself the same things I had wondered. Like whether his time in Uile Breithà had moderated his temperamental impulses or if the isolation made him even more unruly than before?

I wanted to know Riordan’s internal reaction to seeing his mother again, since their relationship had always been convoluted, but I refrained from joining my mind to his. Not merely to give him privacy, but for my own sanity since the witch occupied so much of his thoughts that it was revolting. Her scent, her soft skin under his hands, and the satisfaction he felt when she would seek him out with her eyes plagued him. Her smile mesmerized him, and he was utterly captivated by the knowledge that her nude body was so close to him. That there was nothing separating them but the fabric of my cloak and the illusion of his magically conjured leather armour.

The awakening of his desire was as potent and visceral as I had ever imagined it would be, and it was maddening, heart wrenching, to feel it all directed at thiswitch.

“It is good to be home,” Riordan assured Andromeda, and I didn’t need to be joined with him to know that he was sincere. “Where is Rhea and my father?” he asked.

“Rhea will be here soon, but your father is in Erétria,” Andromeda answered more gravely. “Some of their crops were pillaged and livestock has gone missing, but there is no need to worry now. We will speak with the Queen’s… with theKing’sCouncil about it later,” she corrected with an incline of her head.

“Were you expecting resistance here, Your Majesty?” interrupted another voice, and my lip curled instantly as Castor Doukas stepped off the dais to face Riordan next.

The animosity between the Oligarch of Árgos and my king was widely known. They had never seen eye to eye, but tensions hadn’t become truly hostile until Riordan refused to choose one of Castor’s daughters for his mate. And then Riordan had cemented the oligarch’s insult by rejecting his son as askiáin favour of me: a Ktínos brute. We were sure it was Castor who orchestrated an attempt on my life, but without proof, there wasn’t anything that Riordan could do about it at the time.

But he was the king now, and not especially known for patience or restraint, so I hoped Castor knew well enough to tread lightly. Although I doubted it.

“I have learned not to discount anything. I hope you have been well,aristoi,” Riordan responded to Castor, whose brows rose as if in surprise at the civility.

So, youarecapable of being polite,I could not help but taunt my king, projecting my thoughts effortlessly to Riordan. He rarely shielded himself from me and never rebuffed my connection to him despite the fact that I had always maintained walls around myself. I told him it was to prevent him frombeing tainted by the primal urges that his kind believed plagued the Ktínos. And while that was also partly true, mostly I was shielding him from knowing my deepest and most private truths.

One such truth which the witch had already deduced within hours of knowing me.

His amusement reverberated through me in response, and the familiar intimacy was so greatly missed that it made me want to shiver in delight. I barely heard Castor’s thinly veiled accusations that things in the Vale would have been easier with their true king present.

“Then I look forward to your constructive reports on how I can support the city-states now that I’ve returned,” Riordan replied. And even my brows shot up in surprise that he would let Castor’s baiting comments lie.

“What are they saying?” whispered the witch, but I was happy to ignore her.

“Castor is chiding him for the warriors that followed him home,” Ares told her. I shot a frown at him, but my disapproval only made the bastard grin wider.

“But he didn’t ask them to come. They chose to show their support for Riordan,” objected the witch.

“You are right,” Ares assured her, drawing nearer than I preferred him to be to Riordan’s intended mate so he could speak more quietly to her. “And if they were glad to receive him, and unthreatened by our kind, they might have seen this as a good omen for our new king.”

“Right,” she muttered, nodding as if she had any clue of the politics at play.

I have explained the situation, and she is much more astute than you give her credit for,Riordan scolded me. Reminding me that I’d left the connection between us open enough for himto read me whilst he was greeting the other oligarchs and some commanders.

She is a witch. What could she know of adversity?

Riordan bristled in my mind, the sensation of his anger like a hot prickle at the back of my neck and scalp.

“Riordan!” shrieked a female before he could reply, startling everyone in the courtyard. The nobles all gasped and nervous soldiers reached for their weapons, but it was only Princess Rhea who had emerged from the Metropolis at the top of the stairs.

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