I run a hand over my jaw and look at my father. “I haven’t lost focus and I don’t need to be reminded daily. It’s under control. I’ll leave you two to get ready for the hunt ceremony.”
My father offers a stern nod, and I take my dismissal before they can chide me any more.
Kyrin perks up when I step into the hall. He springs to his feet and is immediately at my side as I walk down the hall toward the back staircase. I pause in front of my bedroom door and listen. The crackle of the fire is punctuated by the soft patter of Harlow’s slippers on the floor. I put the key in the door as quietly as possible, waiting until a strong wind rattles the hall windows to cover the click of the lock.
I turn toward the back stairs and pause at the top.
“You can’t come tonight, Ky. And no going into the hunt grounds. Keep an eye on Harlow instead.”
He lets out a huff of what I can only assume is indignation at being assigned guard duty, but he turns and trots back toward my room.
I don’t go out the front door because I don’t want to be stopped and asked if I’m attending tonight’s hunt. I want to go and have a drink and see my friends for one blessed moment of peace before my life descends into total chaos over the next few weeks.
I sneak out the back entrance meant for house staff. The moment I step outside, a cold breeze nearly rips the door from my hand. That wind should make the hunt interesting. Wind always changes the way sound and scent travel, and it makes for an entertaining night.
I cut down the drive toward the busier part of the top level of the fort.
The streets are buzzing with people. Most of them are just finishing their last few errands before the hunt, but there are nervous young women in white dresses giggling as they walk toward the ceremony. A few off-duty guards wander down the streets behind them, but most of those participating in the games are out for a drink with friends before the reveling begins.
The lights of the bar beckon to me as I turn down a long, dark lane. The heavy metal sign groans as the wind kicks up and the light catches on the bright red lettering.
The Stone Guard, named in honor of the sturdy walls that protected us from the Drained for years, is in the sixth level of the fort, closest to my family home and the hunt grounds. It’s our favorite bar, the most popular haunt for huntsmen, which makes for good people-watching and information-gathering. But usually we end up here because it’s where Carter’s wife, Naima, works.
The swelling of conversations, music, and laughter hits me before I even step inside and crescendos as I pull the heavy wooden door open. The bar is warm, all the wooden tables adorned with glowing sunstones that cast golden light on the drab walls.
Two drummers and a fiddler sit at the front of the bar, playing a lively tune that keeps picking up speed. Couples on the dance floor struggle to keep pace as they move through a series of complicated footwork.
On one side of the room, a long wooden table is piled with fresh breads, preserves, and the picked-over bones of several roasted chickens. Feast nights are a sort of community potluck where the price of entry is food for the community table. It’s meant to honor Kennymyra’s generosity and celebrate the pleasure of excess.
I push my way through the drunken crowd and find Carter and Bryce toward the back of the bar.
“I knew Carter would be here, but I’m surprised to see you, Bryce. It’s not like you to spend so little time primping for a feast night,” I say.
Bryce grins. “Stop acting like I don’t look great. Plus, I like to wait until the last minute. It takes the new prey a little longer to work up the nerve, and the newbies are more fun.”
Carter shakes his head. “Only because no one else will have you.”
Bryce scoffs and tosses his hair. “Don’t be jealous. Just because you’ve settled on one pussy for the rest of your life doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.” He winces as he meets my eye. “No offense, Hen.”
“Who says there will only be one?” I ask.
Carter shakes his head and takes a gulp of his ale. “The murderous look in your wife-to-be’s eyes, for one.”
“Yes, but that’s part of the fun with a woman like that,” Bryce says. “The danger.”
Carter shakes his head. “Nothing about that sounds fun.”
Bryce flashes a sharp smile. “That’s only because you’ve never fucked a woman who’d like to kill you.”
“I worry about you,” Carter says.
Bryce shrugs. “What can I say? I have a type.”
It’s good to have a moment with them before I step out and am expected to be heir. The pressure to be impeccable is constant out there, but in here, Carter and Bryce still treat me the same as they always have—perhaps even a bit more like family. We all barely survived the attack. In the aftermath we became even closer, connected by the same unspeakable horrors.
I take a long swig of whiskey and set the glass down. I need to keep my head tonight.
Carter’s assessing gaze bores into me. “You good? It’s been a while.”
