Page 13 of Hunted

Growing up in Windhelm, it was common for other Fae Lords and Ladies to be paired off to each other. They married because it was good for their families to marry.Unions of convenience. We weren’t allowed to crush on other Fae because love wasn’t really… athingin Arcadia.

Naturally, that meant Fate bonds were worth their weight in diamonds. It was the next best thing, the closest a Fae could ever get to love. For someone who wants that life—to fall in love, to be married, to have children—they would’ve envied my position as Princess, with droves of Fae fighting for the right to love me.

I hadn’t wanted any of it.

I still didn’t.

But somehow, despite leaving the Selection, Fate had intervened anyway, and bound me to a Fae I didn’t know, and didn’t want. Even he was… cute.Ugh.

“We should probably get some sleep,” I said.

Tallin nodded and yawned. “We should,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Or month. It feels like we’ve been running for a while.”

“I’ve lost count.”

I looked down at the bed we were sitting on. It looked warm, and comfortable. Glancing up at the window that overlooked the little alley we had walked down earlier I couldn’t help but notice the dusting of snow collecting on the window’s flat areas. It reminded me of… home.

“What happens tomorrow?” I asked.

Tallin shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We’re going to have to wait and see. But whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

I rubbed the space between Tallin’s eyes. He shut them, bowed his head, and made a soft, rumbling sound. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

I fell asleep only a few short minutes after my head hit the warm, cozy pillow. There was no time to worry about what my dreams would be like, or what tomorrow would bring. Exhaustion had grabbed hold of me, and it pulled me under, into the deep and dreamless dark.

CHAPTERFIVE

Avoiding Valerian was the right thing to do. It was the mature thing to do. At least, that was what I told myself the next morning, almost immediately upon waking up in my mother’s old bed. Why my mind went straight to him as soon as I opened my eyes was something to never be considered or discussed. All that mattered was my resolution to avoid him.

At all costs.

Sitting up in the creaky old bed was painful. My muscles screamed, and my bones shrieked. They didn’t want me to move. They wanted me to stay right where I was for an extended period of time—maybe weeks—so they could recover from the punishment of the last few days.

I decided to lay back down for a little while longer and allow myself a few extra minutes of rest. When I heard footsteps coming from beyond the bedroom door, and muffled talking, I took my cue to get up and dragged myself out of bed.

Tallin was still asleep, the little Sprite curled up at the foot of the bed, twitching slightly. He was dreaming. I decided to leave him there as I quietly, and slowly, exited the room, pausing to make sure Valerian wasn’t around.

The smell of crackling bacon wafting from the kitchen greeted me as soon as I opened the door, making my stomach rumble. I followed the aroma, drawn in by the promise of a salty, hearty breakfast. I had grown quite partial to bacon, and sausages, and eggs in my adulthood; no doubt thanks to my mother andherpenchant for full English breakfasts.

Grandmother Pepper was there, buzzing around the kitchen like a hummingbird, going from pan, to pot, to plate like an expert chef. She was mumbling a tune to herself, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the entire household. Or maybe just so she wouldn’t wake the two ofus.

“How do you like your eggs, dear?” she called out, without even turning her back.

I stopped where I was. “How did you know I was here?” I asked.

Pepper turned her head and grinned at me from behind her half-moon spectacles. “It’s very difficult to sneak up on a witch. Hasn’t anyone told you?”

I shook my head. “I can’t say they have.”

“Consider yourself informed,” she said, turning back to her burners. “So, how do you like your eggs?”

I took a seat at the table. “Mother likes them scrambled… I prefer them sunny side up.”

“Your mother makes the scrummiest scrambled eggs,” Pepper went on as she worked at the breakfast she was whipping up. “Creamy, flavorful, and just the right kind of runny, without using an ounce of milk, either.”

“Did she learn how to cook from you?”