Chapter 6: The Rule of the Hunt
1338 Words
AVIONA'S POV
I snatched up the fork in a burst of anger. But before I could move, the golden lasso slipped from my waist, coiling down my arm.
In a blink, it bound my wrist, the magic tightening until pain sparked through my skin. The fork slipped from my grasp, striking the floor with a sharp clink.
In my frustration, I slammed my fist against the table, sending the cups and plates rattling. My hand shot up to sign, “This cannot be my home. I belong in the forest.”
King Faelan tilted his head slightly, watching me with the faint amusement one might give a child throwing a fit. “You belonged there,” he said softly. “Until I caught you.”
My stomach twisted.
“I caught you fair and square, Aviona. That’s the rule of the hunt. Whether the prey is magical or not—if the hunt is true, the catch belongs to the hunter.” His voice carried no cruelty, only calm conviction—and somehow that made it worse. “You’re mine. I decide what happens to you. I could keep you as a pet… sell you… or kill you.”
My hands moved furiously. “I’m not some mindless animal.”
He rose slowly, moving toward me with a predator’s grace. “You forget, I captured you as a bird,” he said. “The right of the hunt stands.”
Then he crouched, eyes locking onto mine. “The same thing applies if I’m caught in my beast form,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “If I let myself be caught—which is impossible."
He leaned in until our faces were only inches apart, his breath brushing my skin. “I didn’t make the rules, little bird.”
I shook my head hard, backing away. “You didn’t. You just like to twist them.”
His eyes darkened, and I swallowed hard. “You think I want this?” His voice had turned to steel. “You think I take pleasure in any of this?"
He straightened, pacing behind me. “My own brother cursed me to see me fall, to see my kingdom fall.”
I turned toward him sharply, words forming in my fingers. "And why should your family’s spite chain me?"
He smiled bitterly. “Because I’m the only thing standing between the humans, the lesser fae, and the High Fae who would see the treaty I forged centuries ago burned to ash,” he said. “If I fall, they will come for your kind. You’ll be enslaved… raped… or killed.”
His words struck deep. I wanted to tell him he was lying, but I knew he wasn’t. I hadn’t even been born when the treaty was forged, yet his name lived in the records, in stories whispered, and in songs still sung.
King Faelan was the only thing keeping King Dagnar at bay. The ruler of Varkain, a purist through and through, believed only High Fae were fit to rule. Humans and lesser faeries like me were made to serve, or worse.
But King Faelan had fought back. He’d united the other kingdoms against Varkain’s monsters—creatures Dagnar had twisted from living beings into abominations.
And yet, I could not understand why I should bear any part of that burden. Why my fate had to be bound to his. I was only a nymph. I wasn’t supposed to be tangled in the affairs of kings and monsters.
“It’s not fair.” My hands trembled as I signed.
Faelan’s expression didn’t shift. “Nothing about this is fair for me either,” he said quietly. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”
He took a breath, his voice steady but weighted. “Many lives depend on me, Aviona. Thousands. Entire kingdoms, not just Lysarra. If it means keeping you here to keep them safe—then that’s what I’ll do.”
I swallowed hard, shaking my head. “This is cruel. You can’t do this.”
He stepped closer, and his gaze pinned me in place—sharper than any spell. “Are you willing to let them suffer?” he asked softly. “All of them… just so you can be free and comfortable in your forest again?”
My hands fell to my lap. I couldn’t meet his eyes. So I just shook my head. “No, but…”
He didn’t let me finish. He turned away, his back a wall of indifference. “Good,” he said, his tone final. “This is your home now. You’ll be cared for, so long as you cooperate.”
The scrape of his boots echoed across the stone floor as he walked to the door. I wanted to call after him, to make him look at me, but the golden lasso stirred against my throat, tightening in warning.
My steps faltered, and the pressure eased.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click, sealing me in once more.
For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the place where he’d been. The silence swelled, pressing against me until I couldn’t bear it anymore. Then my knees gave out, and I sank to the floor.
Defeated.
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FAELAN'S POV
I lingered behind the door long after it closed, my palm still pressed to the cool wood. The sounds inside were sealed by magic, yet I could still feel her cries—bleeding through the wood, seeping into my bones.
I shut my eyes and drew a long, slow breath, as if exhaling could purge the disgust coiled inside me. I had manipulated an innocent soul, plucked at her guilt like a stringed instrument.
Every part of me ached to tear the door open, to go to her, to offer comfort—but I had none to give. The only thing that would stop her tears was freedom, and I couldn’t give her that.
I don’t have a choice.
I need her. The realm needs me. And if that salvation comes at the cost of one soul’s freedom—then so be it.
I straightened, shoving the guilt back into the pit where all my sins belonged. My boots echoed down the corridor as I walked away, but the sound of her crying clung to me like a ghost I could never outrun.
I stormed into my private study, moving as quickly as my temper would carry me. A familiar sight greeted me—the desk buried beneath a mountain of parchments and scrolls. Petitions. Decrees. Trade negotiations. Each one demanded a decision, a signature… a piece of me.
Most mornings, I would have groaned at the sight. But not today. My mind felt sharp again. No longer clouded by exhaustion. I almost welcomed the distraction, eager to drown out the thought clawing at the back of my mind.
I had just reached for the nearest parchment when a knock shattered the silence.
“Enter,” I said, the edge of irritation still clinging to my voice.
Garron stepped in, his sword catching the light from the window. The gleam was clean, but his expression was not—grim, shadowed. I already knew he carried bad news.
“My king,” he said, bowing his head. “We have a situation.”
I exhaled, rubbing a hand across my temple. “Do we ever not?”
He hesitated, shifting his stance. “The patrols spotted movement beyond the northern border. Fae, by the look of them. They were spying on the land.”
My gaze sharpened. “Were they caught?”
He nodded once. “They were.”
“Did you question them?” I pressed.
Garron’s eyes flickered, a trace of unease betraying his calm. “Not yet, my king.”
I straightened, spine stiff. “Why the hell not?”
He met my gaze, deliberate and grim. “I think you’ll want to see this for yourself.”
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