“No. You will not cross the veil to Annwyn again under my rule. I cannot afford weakness or Felan will be under threat. Perhaps Taryn could do the job. She has no plans to remain at Court after the power shift?”
Verden shook his head. “You would make her Lady of the Hunt?”
“Why not?”
It also had the advantage of binding her closer to Annwyn and the King—and further from Verden. Age might have made him weary, but the King was still sharp as a knife and twice as dangerous.
“I’m sure she would be honored—if she lives.” His voice was more of a snarl and he couldn’t bring himself to bow and smile as he should. He wouldn’t get to be with Taryn again until Felan was King, assuming Gwyn banished him. If the King exiled him, Verden would be dead as soon as Felan took the throne. Either way he was losing Taryn and he could do nothing.
“It should never have come to this. You should have come to me. You should have told me what you felt for Taryn. Now I have lost my only friend, a loyal subject, and must find my wife guilty of attempted murder.” The King placed his hand on Verden’s chest, over his heart, and Verden braced for what was coming. He didn’t know which punishment to hope for. “Verden ap Hollis ap Lorcyn you are hereby relieved of your title of Hunter of Annwyn and banished until I, or whomever is King, sees fit to restore you or until you waste away.” Gwyn removed the Hunter’s sword and stepped back.
Banishment. Verden felt the loss immediately. The magic of Annwyn that had flowed in his blood since he was born was gone. He had become a Grey, the lowest of all fairies. What was usually the worst punishment was now a blessing. There was a chance Felan would restore him, yet it brought him no joy.
He was empty yet heavy, as if weighed down by the grief that he could never see Taryn again unless she crossed into the mortal world. How long did have before he started wasting? Weeks? Months? Years if he used no magic? What if Felan did nothing, or worse, what if Felan failed and someone else claimed Annwyn? There were many who’d revel in his fall. How could he expect Taryn to be happy with a Grey?
He’d well and truly lost her. It had been her that had made him feel alive even as Annwyn died. In her arms he’d never had to scheme and plot and aim higher or fight harder to stay where he was. She’d given him a measure of peace and joy he’d never found anywhere else and he’d let it go.
“Does it hurt?” The King looked at him with concern, as if he were struggling to give up the friendship they’d once had.
“No. I feel nothing.”
Chapter 21
Taryn woke as if she were being dragged from the bottom of the ocean and had to fight her way to the surface. It would be all too easy to slide back to blissful unconsciousness. She blinked and blinked again to focus her eyes. She had no idea where she was. Not at home in Charleston or in her chamber in Annwyn. But she was in Annwyn. The ceiling was a tangle of branches and orange leaves, and draped around the bed were dark silks. She pushed up onto her elbow and her left side burned as if someone were tearing at her flesh.
“Ah.” She lay down and pressed her hand to her side only to discover a fresh wound.
“Don’t move. You are still healing.” Felan sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re lucky to be alive. I cleaned the poison from your wound.”
Poison?
“What happened?” The last she remembered, Felan had taken her to Ireland and had turned her into a deer. Then the details became sketchy.
Felan didn’t answer. He pushed another couple cushions under her head and back, so she could sit up without hurting herself any further. Then he offered her what looked like an ancient horn. “Drink.”
It was an ancient drinking horn, complete with a leather loop for attaching to a belt. Even before she touched it she could feel the magic. Inside was water. She turned her head away before she could drink. No one in Annwyn drank water.
“The water is safe. This is the Cup of Life and the only way to cure a brush with the river of the damned.”
Taryn looked at him, not sure she was understanding half of what he was saying. The cup of life was a ye olde horn that had seen better days. Then she caught up with the rest of what he’d said.
“Someone poisoned me with the river?” She closed her eyes as images from the hunt returned. She remembered running from Verden, the King, and Felan, the hounds at her side urging her on as if they didn’t want her to be caught. “The dogs knew.”
“The dogs knew what?”
“The arrows were poisoned.” She opened her eyes. Someone had shot her. Her heart skipped a beat. “Who shot me?” Who had claimed her?
For an answer, Felan held the cup out. “Just drink. It will heal the wound and you will need your strength.”
“Oh God.” She was going to be sick. The King had won. “Where is Verden?”
“The Queen has been arrested and confined to her quarters for poisoning the arrows. Her Lady Rhodia confirmed what had happened.” His fingers whitened on the cup.
“Verden?” Fear swelled in her chest, closing around her heart with every beat.
“The Queen is to be tried for treason.” He fixed her with his pale green stare. There was no hidden laughter, just cold certainty. “Do you know what this means for Annwyn? We go to war with ourselves and fall to winter.”
“Just take the throne and be done with it.”
“I don’t want to be miserable like my father. I want what you have with Verden. I saw the look on his face the moment he realized something was wrong. I have never seen a man die on his feet like that.”
Her eyes widened and her heart was crushed to powder. “He’s dead?”
“He attacked the King and broke the vows he’d sworn when he became Hunter. He is banished.” He watched her closely. “You love him. I see it in your eyes too.” Felan looked away and shook his head. “How could you be so careless with something so precious?”
“We didn’t plan it.” And now he was trapped on the other side of the veil. Usually banishment was a worse penalty, a slow, wasting death after being cut off from Annwyn. But with the power shift so close, it would be a mercy, as exile meant instant death.
“Obviously.”
“What do I do? I need to see him. You need to bring him back.”
Felan stood. “How am I supposed to do that when I am not King? I can’t lift banishments or grant pardons. If I could, I wouldn’t have needed you to get your father back.”
“Take the throne and stop waiting.”
He spun and stared down at her. He ran his fingers through his usually neat hair. “I need a woman I can trust, one I can put on the throne and know she won’t be corrupted. You think I can stroll through the mortal world and find half a dozen?” he sighed. “I had it and I lost it. I have no idea how to get her back.”
“How long has it been?”
“Seven years.”
“You were going to take the throne seven years ago?”
He nodded. Her parents, and she, would have been dead already. He looked at her and saw the horror on her face. “Don’t worry. I’d made plans for your family.”
“Why is my family special?”
“Because your father works for me. Caspian is my son.”
There was a pause as she let the words settle. The changeling her parents served was the Prince’s son. That explained why they were so dedicated…and why there’d been so much recent trouble with Greys at the house. Yet her parents had never breathed a word to her. She raised one eyebrow, knowing Felan’s secrets would come with a price. “And why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to work for me, to swear loyalty to me and my father.”
That was far more than a straight deal. For how long had her parents been the Prince’s loyal subjects? Were they spies as well as Brownies? It was no wonder Felan wanted her father pardoned. But this wasn’t about her parents. This was about her, and there was only one thing she wanted. “What do I get in return? You can’t bring Verden back until you are king.”