Page 79 of What Hunts Inside the Shadows

“I can’t pick the truth?” I asked, looking at her in horror. I didn’t even want to think about the consequence for my reveal. Imelda shook her head sadly and I heaved a sigh. “Who is Octavian?” I asked.

“One of Mab’s favorite children,” she said, shaking her head with disgust. “He was taken from the Autumn Court a few centuries ago. The Autumn Court has always had an ax to grind with the Winter Court, and that alone was enough to make Caldris and Octavian enemies from the beginning. But Octavian came out differently than the others. Heenjoysbeing indebted to Mab, and thrives off the power he feels in being loyal to the Queen of Air and Darkness. She would have sent him here only to spy on Caldris and make sure he is living up to the duty he was tasked with, because she knows just how much Octavian hates that Caldris was chosen for it at all.”

“Why was he? If Octavian is such a faithful servant, why not send him?” I asked, watching as she drew the opening to the tent closed. She knotted it tight, pulling me over to share the two bedrolls, pressed between the two of them and hidden away from anything that might expose me.

“As loyal as Octavian might be, he is only a Sidhe. He cannot inflict the kind of damage Caldris can, and that has always made him lesser in Mab’s eyes. If Caldris so much as batted an eye at her and served her as she thinks she deserves, he would be her favorite child, because he could be a true weapon to use against her enemies. He already is, even if his loyalty has to be demanded rather than freely given,” Imelda explained, lying on her side to accommodate the lack of space with a third person crammed in. She closed her eyes as if she meant to get to sleep, and I stared at her incredulously in the dark.

“You can’t be serious. Caldris is out there—”

“He can handle himself,” she whispered, touching a single finger to my lips. “But Octavian cannot know you are Caldris’s mate. If Mab knows you exist, she can order Caldris to bring you back to her. You must remain a secret for now, Estrella. That means you can no longer share a tent with him until they devise a way to get rid of Octavian. Now go to sleep. I have a feeling we’ll all need the rest tomorrow.”

I sighed, snuggling back into Fallon. She draped her arm over my stomach supportively for a moment, that sisterly bond flooding through me.

I closed my eyes, and I wished for sleep that didn’t come.

33

ESTRELLA

“Rise and shine!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from the camp the next morning. It was too cheery, the pleasure in it hyperactive and false in every way. I sat up with a start, my eyes heavy and the skin raw underneath them as if I’d spent the majority of my night rubbing at them incessantly.

Imelda touched a hand to my shoulder, keeping me still as she glided to her feet. She stood, carefully keeping her shoes off the bedroll as she did, and turned to look back at me with a finger pressed to her lips.

She slowly pulled back the curtain of the tent, peeking out through the gap she created. Fallon and I leaned into one another, finding the right angle to peer outside through the small hole. People moved in every direction, the Wild Hunt shuffling the half-asleep Fae Marked toward the center where the fire had been the night before. They’d already put out the flames despite the fact that the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.

Imelda turned back toward me, shifting my cloak to the side to glance at the disguise on my skin. I could feel the magic coating me, and worry flashed through me that the Fae might feel it as well. “Make sure to keep your hair covering it and your cloak up as much as possible. We cannot risk the Fae Marked realizing that you’re hiding something,” she said, turning to look at Fallon briefly. The other girl nodded, agreeing with whatever silent sentiment passed between the two of them.

“They hate you enough to tell him what you are out of spite,” Fallon said, as if I needed the reminder. Nearly drowning in a hot spring was all the proof I needed of what they desired for my fate.

“Just keep your distance. Stay with Fallon and I, and don’t seek attention from Caldris in any way. He and Holt will determine how we proceed from here,” Imelda said, finally unknotting the curtain on the tent and pulling it back. The early morning light flooded the little sanctuary we’d had from the Sidhe patrolling the camp, and Fallon and I hurried to our feet to follow at Imelda’s back.

The Marked hurried to form a line next to the fire as a strange male shook the fabric of tents in his hands as he passed them. Stragglers hurried out of their makeshift homes, scurrying to the fireside as Imelda moved at a slow, leisurely pace.

This was the witch who would not be rushed by anyone. She was the witch who commanded the respect she deserved, even by just strolling unconcerned through the chaos and stopping at the edge of the fray. Fallon took the side closest to the group, leaving me to stand as far away from them as possible.

I clasped my hands together in front of me, trying to quell the nervous tremble as I kept my eyes pinned to the ashes that remained of our fire. Channeling Imelda’s indifference, I sank into the hollow inside me.

Letting my face shift to that carefully-crafted mask I’d worn far too often in the confines of Byron’s library, I felt all the emotion drain from me, leaving me a husk, a soulless entity who existed within a bubble. The parts of me that made me into the person I was were far away, irrelevant to my survival that mattered in that moment.

Still, that golden thread that linked me to Caldris shone brightly in my peripheral as he stepped out of his tent. His armor and leather had been polished in the night, his figure striking as the crown he so rarely tolerated sat upon his head. The wolves paced at his heels, following behind their master as if they were as under his command as the dead he reanimated.

It had become easy to forget what the rest of the world saw when they looked at him. I spent most of my time experiencing the other side of him, the loving side of Caelum compared to the terrifying figure others saw—the brutal God of the Dead, the Fae male who could bring an entire city to its knees. His steps crackled through the snow, the silence I was used to him moving with gone with the show he put on for Octavian.

Everywhere the other Fae male was, everything about our journey to Alfheimr had changed. The easy camaraderie was gone, the casual pace as we maneuvered through the Kingdom shifted in favor of haste.

Caldris stopped in front of us, his attention going directly to Imelda. She held his gaze, standing flanked by Fallon and me as one would have expected of a guardian. “I trust the three of you slept well,” he said, the words a statement and not a question. I looked up at the side of his face, my heart panging within my chest when he did not turn his attention to me. He did not glance my way, giving me none of his focus in a way that I had never experienced.

I’d become so used to being the center of his world that anything less felt like a heartbreak.

“We did, your highness,” Imelda said, bowing her head forward respectfully. I quickly averted my gaze, staring at the ground next to my feet to follow suit. I didn’t know how to play these games of politics.

I was fucked.

“Good,” Caldris said simply, moving down the line. He stopped in front of the Fae Marked as the Sidhe male finally abandoned his pursuit of searching the tents. He strolled up beside Caldris, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. The move was so familiar, so like a friend, that I grimaced. Knowing Octavian hated Caldris for being favored by the Queen they served, I saw it for what it was—a blatant disrespect meant to grate against Caldris’s nerves. But my mate only regarded Octavian impassively, showing not a hint of emotion as the other male was left with no choice but to abandon his useless endeavor to irritate him.

Octavian’s hair hung below his shoulders, an almost human-like shade of chestnut that I wouldn’t have been surprised to find in Nothrek—had it not been for the bright copper strands that gleamed in the early sun. His features were refined, his cheeks hollow against the sharpness of his bone structure. His ethereal nature was all-encompassing, lacking the rugged beauty of Caldris. The red of his Mark twined up the side of his neck.

His clothing was all black, the stark coloring striking against his sepia skin. Imelda elbowed me in the side subtly, forcing me to turn away from my peripheral watching. It was painful not to look as he made his way down the line, his hands clasped behind his back. His posture was at ease, as if he possessed not a single care about the fear he created in others.

---