Page 40 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Asher

T he Huntsman is waiting when I arrive at the base, and true to form, he doesn’t look pleased about it.

Everyone else is on edge, except Maurice, who gives me a knowing grin from the seat he’s taken next to Grant on the sofa.

Vlad stands behind them both, with Jeremiah and Paxton over in the corner where Paxton usually sits.

“Maurice informed me you were busy,” the Huntsman says, disapproval clear in his tone. I take a seat next to Maurice on the sofa and rest my elbows on my thighs, surveying the Huntsman for a moment.

Start as I mean to go on. I won’t devalue what Quinn and I have for anything, and I meant what I promised—I won’t abandon him either, no matter the cost.

“I was with my mate,” I say, and behind me, Vlad lets out a barely audible hiss.

The Huntsman holds my gaze for a second before his eyes fall to my chest. “I see.”

“Do we need to discuss it?”

“The bond will affect your blessing.”

I open my mouth, no idea what I’m about to say, and Maurice tenses beside me, clearly ready to jump in too, but Grant beats us all to the punch.

“For better or for worse?”

The Huntsman blinks at him. I don’t need to look to know that Vlad has gone completely still behind me. He radiates tension.

“I do not know,” the Huntsman says.

He isn’t lying. He can’t lie.

“Then we’ll move on to other matters, shall we?” Maurice says loudly, voice overly cheerful, especially considering what we’re here to talk about. “The twins’ bodies are in the cellar.”

Paxton pulls a face and Grant shivers.

“Did you learn anything from them before you killed them?” the Huntsman asks me, and I don’t bother to correct him, tell him that Quinn killed Sorrel in the end. He’ll work it out himself and I have no desire for more fae attention on my mate.

“Very little,” I say. “They wanted Quinn’s and my magic to cut through the veil and let the high fae in. Chaos. That’s what they tried with the other wolves and their own magic, but it didn’t work.”

“They have not succeeded,” the Huntsman says. “The veil holds.”

“Except the wolf we gave back to Quinn was far smaller than it should have been,” Maurice says with an apologetic grimace. “I’m not sure if they might have managed to steal some of Asher’s blessing, too.”

“And where is all that magic now? Sorrel did not have it on his person when he died?”

Maurice shakes his head. “Nothing. I tried to search Mischief he just wants me close.

And if Quinn did join, he’d be forced to give up his wolf.

“No.”

“I am troubled. Vlad’s fledgling is correct in that we cannot know whether your mate bond will affect the blessing I gave you in a positive or negative way. But if I were to take it back…”

“I’d die.”

“Yes.”

“And if I bonded with him, could that kill me, too?”

The Huntsman purses his lips for a moment in thought. “I am unsure. I have my doubts, considering you have the beginnings of a bond already and appear to be well. There are risks in everything, Asher, but this may be foolhardy on your part.”

I shrug. “He’s my mate. You knew what I was when you extended your offer.”

“Part of me had hoped you would never find him.”

I flinch at the faint words, the truth that rings out in them. When the Huntsman doesn’t speak again, I narrow my eyes. I don’t know much about fae bonds, but…

“You knew my mate was out there?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. You can always tell?”

The Huntsman levels me with a flat look. “I am high fae,” he says. “Bond magic is our specialty. It is what gives us our power. The blessing I gave you—gave to all of you—bonds us, which is why you serve the Hunt. Through that bond, I see the others that tie you all together.”

“So, Maurice and Njáll…”

“Yes. A true bond.”

“What about Jeremiah and Paxton, then? Can’t they—”

“I would not recommend it,” the Huntsman says and shakes his head when I move to speak again. “Just not now. Fae bonds are powerful. They tie people together in the most unbreakable way. And that means that if one half of the bond were to die…”

“If Maurice dies, Njáll will go too?”

“I believe not immediately. He will fade, as the fae queen is fading.”

“Fuck. And you couldn’t have told us this earlier?”

The Huntsman frowns. “I told Vladimir all of this when he presented his fledgling to me.”

What? I stare at the Huntsman for a full ten seconds, mouth agape. “No, you—He would have…”

“He did not inform you?”

“No.”

“Hm. Well, he has his own bond. Be careful with yours, Asher. With any luck, we will discover that your magic and that of your mate is not being used for such a nefarious purpose. But I fear we are not out of the woods yet.”

“I will,” I say, still reeling at the other revelation.

The Huntsman nods, then turns and walks away without another word. I watch until he disappears from view, taking one deep breath before I whirl around and storm back into the house.

Everyone is just where I left them, though they all fall silent when I come into the room. Vlad frowns when I look at him. Why wouldn’t he tell us about this?

“You know about fae bonds,” I say, and he closes his eyes in resignation.

Maurice frowns. “We all know about fae bonds, don’t we? Did you forget?”

“No. Vlad knows something the rest of us don’t.”

“What did he tell you?” Vlad asks. Grant sits up on the sofa properly, watching his sire with a confused frown.

“He knows of our bonds. Any of them. All of them. Our blessings bind us to him.”

“I mean, some of that we’d figured out already,” Paxton points out.

“He said Maurice and Njáll formed a true bond. And with a true bond, if one half dies, the other—”

I snap my mouth shut when Maurice jumps to his feet. He turns all his ire on Vlad, who only hangs his head as he listens.

“You knew? I came here to tell you because I was worried, and you knew ?”

“I did not think it prudent to speak of it.”

“Why? Because—Oh.” Maurice makes the connection far faster than I did, but then that’s hardly a surprise, considering what he knows of magic. His gaze drops to Grant. Paxton half-rises from his seat as though he understands as well.

“What is it?” Grant asks in a small voice. He scowls when no one speaks, turning that expression on Vlad. “What is it ?”

Vlad swallows. I do not think I have ever seen him unsure where to begin before. Better to get it over with.

“When I turned you, a bond was created between the two of us as well.”

Grant nods, perplexed. “Yeah, a sire-turn bond, right?” He baulks when Vlad doesn’t immediately reassure him. “Right?”

“Not quite. The Huntsman believes it is more potent than that.”

Jeremiah hisses. Out of the three older vampires, I’m not sure who was turned first, and I think I always assume Vlad because of his close contact with the Huntsman and general aura of control, but Jeremiah…

He’s brutal when he has to be.

“You kept this from your turn? Your only fledgling?”

“It is not—”

“It is all of our business,” Jeremiah says, stalking closer. He looks as though he intends to remove Vlad’s head from his shoulders. “It was all of our business that you had turned anyone at all, but you kept that to yourself as long as possible too, didn’t you?”

“Grant is none of your concern. No one’s.”

Grant pushes off from the sofa, getting to his feet. He’s shaking, and whether from anger or another emotion, I can’t tell. Anguish wars with fury on his face.

“That’s just how you want it, isn’t it?”

“What?” Vlad asks.

“You don’t want me to get close to anyone. I thought it was because of the Huntsman, but if he already knows what you’ve done, why would he care? It’s you .”

“You are still a fledgling, you—”

“ Fuck you , Vlad!” Grant hisses at him, fangs bared, eyes glowing, and then he’s gone, out of the room before anyone can stop him. My heart leaps into my throat, fear only settling when I hear one of the doors upstairs slam shut.

Vlad stares after him. He might have been unreadable earlier, but he isn’t now—he’s distraught and has no idea how to fix this.

There is perhaps no fixing it. We’re not a close-knit team, all of us, but having to rely on each other because we have a fae for a leader is a given. At least I thought so, up until a few minutes ago.

“I—” Vlad says and makes a move towards the door.

“I’ll go talk to him,” I say. “You have some questions to answer.”

Maurice has more, I know it. Jeremiah wants to yell, and Paxton seems content to let him.

They’ll give me enough time to settle Grant. I leave the living room and take the stairs slowly, ensuring I make enough noise that Grant knows I’m coming. If he doesn’t want to speak with me, I won’t make him.