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T eryn barely tasted his meal as he ate. Every bite of pheasant settled like ash in his stomach. But he kept on eating. Kept filling his mouth with one slow bite after the next if only to keep from having to talk. Thankfully, Helios took the brunt of that burden, joking with the men and regaling them with hunting tales so convincing, Teryn entertained the possibility that this had been his true identity all along. Whenever a question was directed at Teryn, he kept his answers brief. And when the same happened to Lex, particularly when he was caught staring at the caged unicorn, Helios interjected before he could speak. “This one’s mute.”

One of the hunters, a man Teryn had learned was named Sam, began to gesture with his hands.

“And dumb,” Helios added. “Hunting’s the only thing he’s keen at.”

Lex started to scowl but seemed to think the better of it, adopting a vacant expression instead. Teryn could see evidence of his indignation in the red flush that crawled up his neck.

After dinner, the mood became far more relaxed. Helios’ act was so convincing that the man who’d held the crossbow—Hammond—insisted they stay the night. After that, bottles of rum were passed around, and the mood relaxed even further. Lex retired to his bedroll early, stomping the whole way there. Berol too abandoned Teryn, fleeing the incessant chatter and taking a perch in one of the trees. Meanwhile, Teryn remained at the campfire. Listening. Watching. He studied the men, their behavior, their words, trying to glean as much information as he could. He knew better than to rely on Helios alone. The hunters were all in various states of dress, most down to their tunics. Others wore heavily armed bandoliers while a few remained bundled in greatcoats. He caught sight of a sigil on their coat sleeves—a black crescent moon on an indigo background—the same sigil that was on the paper Helios had. He wondered if it belonged to Duke Morkai, the man Helios had mentioned as having a monopoly on the unicorn hunt.

As the night wore on, it was safe to say the men were the most unpleasant company he’d ever kept. Not in their treatment of him, but in the hard looks in their eyes, the sharpness of their words, their unsavory topics of conversation. Blood. Violence. Their treatment of women. It only served to further unsettle the meal in his stomach.

Teryn accepted the rum whenever it passed his way but he did all his drinking in act, determined to keep his focus sharp. Though, time and again, his attention slid to the caged creature. There were six cages in total, but only one was occupied. The unicorn inside was nothing like the enormous white one Teryn had confronted that morning. This one seemed weak, wobbling on its legs. His chest felt tight as he watched it, unable to tear his eyes away?—

“I know that look.” Teryn startled as the youngest man of the party, James, sat next to him. “That’s envy, isn’t it? I take it you didn’t have the best luck during your contract.”

Teryn grunted his response. He was going for a Helios-like persona. Man of few words. Gruff. It was a bit nauseating impersonating a man he so disliked, but if that was what it took to keep a low profile, he’d do it.

James handed him a bottle, and Teryn accepted it. The liquid brushed his closed lips before he handed it back. “Shame,” James said. “You should’ve been out here last year. There were unicorns everywhere. We’d spend a month in one place and catch dozens. Now, we barely last three weeks before deeming an area overhunted. We had only five horns for harvest last night. Five . Can you believe that?”

Teryn gave him a sympathetic look as if he understood the struggle keenly, but his mind snagged on the word harvest .

“Only three were live kills because the others had been taken manually and that one isn’t ready yet.” He nodded at the caged unicorn. “Although I hope he makes it long enough for the next harvest. I hate doing it manually, you know?” He glanced at Teryn, a meaningful look in his eyes, but Teryn couldn’t fathom what he was trying to convey. Part of him wanted to remain silent, but the other half felt as if he were on the brink of something important.

Infusing his tone with an air of bored disbelief, he asked, “You hate doing it manually?”

James shrank down as if embarrassed. “Yes, don’t you? The way they…you know. And the noises they make.” He paled and took a deep drink from the bottle.

Teryn lifted a shoulder as if the matter was no bother to him. Inside, he was bothered indeed. What noises? What was he referring to? Was it…removing the unicorn horns? Helios had mentioned a special method but had yet to elaborate.

“I’m always the one holding them down,” James said, lowering his voice. “Never the one wielding the knife. I think holding the knife would offer a…I don’t know. A distraction.”

“A distraction?” Teryn echoed.

“Not like the monster is any better. At least then all I have to do is cut open the cages and try not to get blood on my boots.”

A chill ran down Teryn’s spine, one that sent his heart thudding. It took all his control to keep his composure. “The monster.”

James took a deep drink of rum and handed the bottle to Teryn. Keeping his eyes fixed on the other man, Teryn pretended to drink again. James’ eyes went unfocused. “I saw it today,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “No one believes me, but I did. I was checking traps when it plodded by. You know what that means, right?” James leaned in close. “It’s claiming our prey outside of the harvest. Which is unfair. If we don’t collect, we don’t get paid.”

Teryn made an indignant noise, nodding along.

James went on. “And if it can do that…why are we even here? Why are we starving these creatures to an inch of their lives if the monster can run amok as it pleases, gobbling up the freshest fare?” He took another long pull of rum, anger written in the set of his jaw. His eyes had become glossy with drink, his pupils so wide they nearly filled the rim of his irises. He ran a hand through his hair which revealed a mark on his neck, just under his ear. It was a brand. An R .

Teryn didn’t think his blood could go any colder. His kingdom didn’t brand their criminals but he knew Khero did. He also knew what that R likely stood for. Add to that the way James talked about unicorns—starving them, harvesting them for some monster, holding them down, wielding a knife…

He didn’t see the full picture James was painting, but the edges were becoming clear.

Teryn looked across the fire to where Helios was chatting amiably with a hunter named Gringe—the one who had questioned them when they first arrived. Helios caught his stare and narrowed his eyes. He grinned then, and there was something sinister in the curve of his lips. In the way he held Teryn’s gaze without falter as he continued to chat. It was a dare of sorts. A silent confession. Teryn’s fingers curled into fists, his eyes narrowing right back. He understood then that Helios knew exactly what James had been referring to, whether he’d heard their conversation or not. Helios knew whatever the harvest was, what the monster was, and what it took to manually remove a unicorn’s horn.

Teryn suspected Helios had kept the information to himself less out of a need for control and more because—had he told Teryn the truth—perhaps he never would have come.

Cora’s anger reached new bounds as she watched the prince mingle with the men he’d sworn he didn’t belong to. When she’d confronted him, she’d asked who he worked for. He’d said no one. She’d reached out to him with her senses, felt nothing to suggest he’d been lying. Clearly he had.

She glared at him from her hiding place in her tree, smirking as she watched him press the poisoned bottle to his lips. He’d get his due soon enough.

She’d been waiting in her tree since before dusk, hoping tonight her plan would finally come to fruition. Her relief had been palpable when the hunters were back to their crass, rowdy selves upon returning from the day’s hunt. That meant tonight the Beast would not come. However, she nearly gasped out loud when she saw Prince Teryn Alante enter the clearing, his companion bearing a writ marked with Duke Morkai’s sigil. Was Teryn Alante even the man’s real name? Had he lied about being a prince too? She supposed it didn’t matter now. He’d sealed his fate when he drank the rum.

Her heart clenched at the thought. But why? Why did she recoil at the idea of him dying by her clandestine machinations? He may not have borne a brand like the other hunters, but was he any different on the inside? She could admit, he didn’t look altogether comfortable. She only wished she could hear what he and James were whispering about. The other men were too loud, too boisterous.

The branch shuddered above her. At first, all she saw was shadow, but her breath caught as she made out the shape of a falcon amongst the pine boughs, its condemning eyes locked on her.

What do you want? she tried to convey, but this animal wasn’t like Valorre. It couldn’t understand her. Still, she was pretty sure she could understand it . The falcon curled her talons around the branch, inched down its length until she was a foot over Cora’s head. A silent threat. Cora held her gaze, daring her to try anything. The bird may have had talons, but Cora was armed too. Her bow wouldn’t serve her at this range, but her knife or dagger could. Even so, she had no desire to fight off a falcon at all.

“It’s too late,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.” She doubted the bird could understand her, even when speaking out loud. The falcon made no further move. Instead, she turned her head, nestling down as if preparing to nap.

A thud struck the earth at the base of the tree. She startled, as did the bird. But as she peered into the dark, she saw it was Paul, who’d once again been on perimeter duty. Now he lay facedown in the dirt, his flask in his hand.

She didn’t need to open her senses to know he was dead. Cold sweat pricked her neck as she stared down at the body. She’d done that. Her hand had brewed the decoction, poisoned the liquor. Her actions and intentions had snuffed out life in an instant.

Killing Erwin was one thing. He’d directly threatened her, attacked Valorre.

But Paul…

He’s no better than Erwin , she reminded herself. Perhaps he had no personal qualms with Cora, directed no immediate threat her way. But he was not only a convicted murderer but a willing participant in the hunt. He’d captured fae creatures, trapped them with iron, denied them food and water. He’d stood by while the Beast devoured the unicorns.

Her guilt faded into a cold and deadly calm.

Setting her jaw, she returned her gaze to the camp and waited for the next body to fall.