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I hardly sleep through the day, consumed by thoughts of Njáll and the Huntsman—and then, confusingly, both of them when I doze. The Huntsman has not arrived by the time I get out of bed for the evening and dress, and I pace the living room as Grant sits on the sofa, turning the pages of a book.

“What do you think he’s going to do to you?” he asks, and I falter mid-step, more confused when I look over and Grant is still staring at whatever page he’s on.

“I—Sorry?”

“The Huntsman?” Grant asks. His gaze flicks up, taking me in with a single sweep. “What does he do to you?”

“Nothing.” Nothing yet. But he could take my blessing, and with that, my magic. My purpose.

“I don’t believe you.”

I’ve not known Grant for long, of course, but I have never seen him as serious as this.

I gave in when I came here a week ago and asked him to show me some things on my phone.

He understood the gravity of our changing situation—I have no doubt that Vlad explained some of it to him—but he still cracked jokes in between showing me how to do everything.

“Why not?”

Grant shifts on the sofa, the book still in his grasp but forgotten.

“Because Vlad…” He glances at the door that leads out into the hall.

Vlad is still upstairs, and I can hear the low rumble of his voice on the phone.

“Vlad had to see him after he made me a vampire,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper, “and I’ve not seen him as worried since. ”

I’m surprised he can even remember and consider that Vlad really was telling the truth about Grant’s complete lack of bloodlust. “Vlad will be fine,” I say because maybe that’s what he’s worried about—Vlad is handing out assignments, and though I completed last night’s job, Grant can’t know I went to the clan house afterwards.

“I know that,” Grant says with a scoff that is not like him at all. “Are you going to be?”

“I—” I begin, but I don’t get to answer because I feel a pulse of magic that signals the Huntsman’s arrival. Grant sits up straighter on the sofa. Upstairs, Vlad’s voice falls silent.

The Huntsman knocks on the door. Grant looks at me once before he gets to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

Vlad trails them both through to the living room, already looking exhausted, though he should have managed to get some sleep today. The Huntsman surveys all three of us, his face grave.

“Leave us.”

Vlad takes hold of Grant’s arm, tugging him from the room, and before the door to the hall shuts, I hear Grant protesting that he’s left his book behind.

The Huntsman shakes his head. “I told you, Maurice. I told you that job was done.”

“I know it is.”

“You went to the clan house last night.”

I don’t ask how he knows; there’s no point. “I did.”

“Why?”

Oh, I don’t want to answer that question. I stare back at him, and the Huntsman snarls, letting his glamour slip. Flat, black eyes meet mine, boring into the very heart of me.

He must already know about me and Njáll. It’s why he warned me in the first place; if he didn’t know before the night he came to tell me that I had to leave, then my insistence on saying goodbye gave me away.

“I don’t have the time or energy for your disobedience right now, Maurice.”

“I am not trying to disobey,” I say. “I don’t understand the problem. He didn’t see me. I had already finished my job for the evening. The redcaps at Bodiam Castle are gone.”

“It matters because I need the Hunt to be stronger now than it has ever been!” the Huntsman snaps, and the sheer venom in his voice has me taking a step backwards. “We do not have the luxury of weakness. Do you think I have not given you all enough free rein?”

“What—”

“Rook and Saide,” he all but spits, “have abandoned us. Vladimir broke the one rule I thought you would all be conscious of. And now you… You cannot chase after the crai, Maurice. We must hold ourselves separate. We must be separate.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do we have to be separate?” I bite back the rest of what I want to say. You’re not. You pretend you are, but you follow Moreau around like a lost puppy and you snarl and you’re cruel and you don’t want us to see, but we all see—

“You cannot help humanity against the fae if you are so caught up in another person that you cannot see past them at all,” the Huntsman says and holds up a hand when I shake my head.

“Rook and Saide’s bond meant they worked well together.

I hope… I hope that the same will be true for Vladimir and Grant, in time. ”

“And that whole mess has nothing to do with Grant’s lack of bloodlust, does it?”

A muscle in the Huntsman’s jaw twitches, and I bite back a vicious smile. He’s fae. He’s magical to the core. But I was born of magic, too, and I know what curiosities it can drive one to.

“Enough of this,” he snaps, and he’s dropped enough of his glamour that his teeth are sharp now, too.

“I can be kind, Maurice. I have been kind. But to win this, I will need to be ruthless, and that means I will do whatever it takes to ensure the Hunt continues to operate in the way that makes it most efficient.”

I swallow hard. I know what he means.

If I push any further, he’ll take my magic.

And what if he does? I’ll still be a vampire. I’ll still have my own mind. I could join the clan—Njáll might even make me a chieftain, given enough time. God knows he needs the help. And we could…

What?

Live happily ever after?

Except there would always be this great ache inside me, wouldn’t there? I know that because I’ve experienced it before. Long decades of it, knowing that despite all the new abilities I had, all the new things I could do, I would never have that, never again.

“I understand,” I say and make my voice as sincere as I can. “I’ll obey. Whatever you need.”

The Huntsman sighs at that, and I feel a flutter of magic as his glamour settles back into place. Instead of a frosty, cruel fae, I face a frosty, cruel man, albeit one who looks a little more approachable.

“Do not make me regret choosing you, Maurice. Do not disappoint me that way.”

“I won’t.”