4.
"Josiah Hunt, Gabriel?" Lucas stared down at the list he had so painstakingly chosen and wondered how Gabriel would react to the news.
If, indeed, Josiah was a Hound as Lucas suspected.
He had never quite summoned up enough courage to ask the Master of the Hunt if one of his Hounds was attending school at Darkbrook in human form. Instead, he had relied on speculation, and one old man's testimony of a dark rainy night soon after the Hunt was bound.
His great-uncle, Peter Lane, had died less than a year after imparting his secret to Lucas. Six months after his death, Lucas had been given the position of Council Historian--a move he knew his uncle must have pushed for, since he had yet to graduate.
Since then, he had slowly built up a relationship with the Master of the Hunt. It had taken him years just to progress to having a conversation with him--Gabriel seemed to want as little as possible to do with the Council.
Not that Lucas blamed him. Ninety years ago, the Master of the Hunt had been a different person. Nowadays, with the Council's binding holding his fury in check, he was--as much as anyone in his position could be--at least civil.
A knock on the door heralded Gabriel's arrival, and Lucas rose from his chair, gripping the gnarled wooden cane that had become his constant companion these last few years.
Getting old was more irritating than beneficial, at least in Lucas' opinion. But it certainly beat out the alternative.
"You called?" As always, Gabriel hid his true feelings behind a mask of indifference. But Lucas had grown adept--at times--at guessing his mood, and he didn't think Gabriel truly minded their conversations.
It was hard to tell, though, since Gabriel never initiated contact with Lucas or anyone else.
"I wanted to show you the list of final candidates," Lucas said. "The students who made the cut will receive advanced training and I've requested two of them to mentor myself. More than likely, we'll ask one or two of them to be members of the Council once they graduate." Without letting his curiosity show, he handed the list to Gabriel.
The Master of the Hunt took the piece of paper as if it contained the binding itself and not a simple list of names.
Lucas wondered if Josiah had already told his Master of the honor. And then, on the tail end of that thought, he wondered if Gabriel would consider it to be an honor at all.
After a long moment of silence, Gabriel spoke. "This--This Josiah is known to me," he said. "We have spoken before. He is not in the same year as the others."
"He is already studying advanced materials," Lucas said quietly. "I believe he needs this training. Even if he doesn't become a member of the Council. That is entirely optional, of course."
"Is it then?" Gabriel murmured, and glanced at the list again. "There is a name I don't see here."
"Yes. Althea Dunning." Lucas sighed. "It was a difficult choice, but in truth, Josiah has more talent than Althea."
Gabriel gave him a hard look, as if trying to gauge how much he knew. "Does he?"
"Yes." Lucas smiled. "If he had family, I am certain they would be very proud of him."
"I imagine they would," Gabriel said. His voice gave nothing away. He handed the list back to Lucas. "I believe--I believe you've made a good choice."
"I value your opinion," Lucas said. "And I'm sure you want to get back home. Thank you for coming."
Not for the first time, Lucas saw something other than calm in Gabriel's eyes.
"I have--" He bit back the words and shook his head, turning away from Lucas.
"You have no choice," Lucas said softly. "I know."
"If you know, then why do you pretend my opinion truly matters?" Gabriel's voice was harsh and angry, but his anger was not directed at Lucas. "You call. I come. If I try to resist your binding--" His voice trailed away.
Lucas did not know what would happen if Gabriel tried to resist. The binding's wording left that up to chance. But obviously it was uncomfortable enough--or, he presumed, painful enough--to warrant this outburst. "Does it hurt you to come when I call?" he asked, wondering if he had inadvertently caused Gabriel needless pain over the years.
A small smile flew across Gabriel's lips as he turned, his mask back in place. "No. It doesn't."
Lucas hesitated. "Would you come if you had a choice?"
"That is not something I can answer truthfully," Gabriel said, his voice soft. "May I go?"
"Yes, of course," Lucas said. He waited until Gabriel had opened the front door before speaking. "Gabriel, if you see Josiah--out in the forest, that is; he wasn't in his room an hour ago--will you tell him that I would like to speak with him?"
Gabriel's shoulders stiffened, only slightly. "Of course."
"Thank you," Lucas said, and watched as he vanished into the night, leaving behind more questions than answers, as usual.
The Hunt's lair was a twenty-minute walk through the forest if you knew the way. Gabriel deliberately slowed his pace as he walked to allow Josiah time to compose himself. He had no doubt of the scene that would greet him once he entered the house.
Lucas knew. Perhaps he had always known. Gabriel tried to cast his mind back to their endless discussions--which, he could admit to himself, he would have missed if Lucas had not tried so hard to befriend him.
Two questions remained: What did he plan to do about his knowledge? And what did Gabriel want to do about Josiah attending Darkbrook? He stopped at the mouth of the cave and sighed.
A white Hound--Malachi--slipped under the overhang of vines and sat at his feet for a moment before shifting into human form to speak. They could communicate through the bond they shared, but Gabriel knew that the Hounds relished their freedom to speak, and he did not discourage it.
It was almost two years now since he had allowed them their human forms. And they had not betrayed him.
"He's waiting for you inside, my lord." Malachi rose to his feet and dusted off his pants.
"I imagine he is," Gabriel said neutrally.
Malachi glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. "He--He packed his things from Darkbrook, my lord."
"He did?" Gabriel stared at his Hound. "Was he so certain, then, that I would force him to leave?"
Malachi shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. "The boxes appeared in the living room five minutes before Josiah, and he arrived right after you left. And you did tell him that if anyone guessed he was a Hound, he would have to leave." He hesitated, wrapping his arms around his body as if the air outside was cold, not summer-warm. "Will you make him leave?"
The answer to that question was none of Malachi's business, in truth. Gabriel did not have to share his decisions with his Hounds. They were forced to obey him just as he was forced to obey the Council.
But since his decision would affect all of their lives--and the small freedoms he had given them--he saw no reason to keep it a secret. "I hadn't intended to."
"If you want my opinion--" Malachi began, and then realized what he had said. He blinked. "You hadn't? Really?"
Gabriel smiled. "Yes, really. Are the others inside as well?" He could have checked through the bond, of course, but he had learned over the years to trust his Hounds. It was difficult still, sometimes, to remember that they were individuals now, and not just Hounds.
Malachi shook his head. "I--I volunteered to stay behind. The others are out in the forest, hunting."
"You may go, then, and thank you," Gabriel said, turning away to enter the cave. "I'll talk to Josiah."
"He's upset, my lord. He told me that he did not submit his name for that list."
"I know he did not," Gabriel replied, wondering just how upset Josiah was. And if he would show it, or put on a brave face. "You needn't fear, Malachi. I am not about to turn him from this path."
Malachi nodded and shifted into a Hound. Gabriel waited until he had vanished into the darkness, then ducked under the low-hanging vines.
From the human world, the Hunt's lair was a cave. No one from the Council had ever bothered to investigate their living quarters, and if they had, they would have found a door set in the far back wall of the cave, the only anomaly therein.
That door was kept locked for the most part, or guarded by a Hound. That door was the reason Gabriel had chosen to stay in this particular house in Faerie. He could move between Faerie and the Human World at will, without having to rely on the ever-shifting Veil.
Gabriel felt the briefest touch of Josiah's awareness through the bond as he opened the door. Josiah hid his fear well, but he could not hide very much from his Master.
Through the door was a long hallway that shifted in shape sometimes, depending on Gabriel's mood. The living room--a human term--was the hub of the house, the only room accessible through the hallway.
The Hunt had lived in this house for almost two years. And still Gabriel had not explored it in its entirety.
Josiah sat on a weathered wooden bench, his hands clasped together, his gaze on the floor. A small pile of boxes--his earthly possessions from Darkbrook sat in the middle of the room, oddly forsaken as if they had been abandoned there.
All at once, Gabriel saw Josiah as he had appeared so many years before, a ragged wraith of a boy with frostbitten hands and feet, appearing out of a snowstorm to fall into the path of the Hunt.
He had not begged for his life. Instead, he begged to become a Hound, as if he realized even then that was the only way he would not die.
Gabriel had been so struck by the uniqueness of his request that he had acquiesced.
Josiah had not yet turned fourteen.
Now, his youngest Hound sat and awaited punishment for a crime he had not committed.
"Why are there boxes in the middle of the living room?" Gabriel asked, deliberately keeping his voice calm.
Josiah glanced up at him, his pale yellow hair falling across his face. "I--I packed my things from Darkbrook, my lord." His lower lip quivered for a mere instant before he swallowed his sadness and raised his chin. "I swear to you that I did not put my name in for the--"
"I know you didn't," Gabriel said. "I imagine Lucas did. He seems to believe that you've been studying advanced magics, and that you need a higher level of training."
Josiah did not seem to hear him. "I think--" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I am sorry, my lord, but I think he knows I'm a Hound." When Gabriel did not reply, he clenched his hands even tighter. His muscles quivered. "I have been cautious. He had no reason to believe that I am one of yours. I did not ask for this, my lord. I swear it." A tear--an actual tear ran down one side of his face.
"Josiah." Gabriel kept the bond closed with an effort. He wanted to show his Hound that he had done no wrong; that there would be no punishment, but he also wanted to make sure Josiah realized that he had jumped to conclusions far too quickly. "I am pleased that you will be studying with Lucas. He will teach you well."
Before his words could sink in, Gabriel crossed the room and walked down the short hallway to the library. He sat down at the library table, opened a book, and counted to ten. When Josiah did not appear in the doorway, he counted to ten again.
The library door swung open on silent hinges.
"My lord?" Hope rippled through Josiah's voice. "My Lord--did you say--"
Gabriel glanced up at his youngest Hound. "Lucas knows who--and what--you are. I'm not giving you permission to tell him yourself. If he asks outright, you are to refer back to me for instructions."
Josiah's lips twitched. His eyes were already shining. "Yes, my lord. Of course."
"And I cannot permit you to take a seat on the Council if it is offered to you," Gabriel said. "I don't think Lucas would go that far. But I have no desire to subvert the Council. Once the binding is broken, we will coexist with them. But we will not join them."
"Yes, my lord." Josiah's smile would have dimmed the sun. "I--I won't disappoint you, my lord."
Gabriel smiled. "Then go. Unpack your things, and return tomorrow night if you can. I believe the others are hunting, and we'll have a feast to celebrate your accomplishment."
"Thank you, my lord." Josiah bowed. "Oh, thank you."
After he had gone, Gabriel listened to the silence of the house and wondered if he had done the right thing. Instinct told him to withdraw his Hounds and stay out of sight, but Lucas already knew the Hunt's oldest secret.
It would probably take him ten more years to come right out and say anything, but he knew.
Hopefully, allowing Josiah to continue his studies would not be a mistake.
5.
"Are you certain there is no one I can contact for you?" Sennet asked, handing Emle a mug of tea.
Emle sipped it for a moment before replying, her voice faltering. "No. I am--I am alone."
Sennet wanted to ask her about the father of her child, but she also didn't want to drive Emle away. "You realize you may stay as long as you wish," she said. "And no one need know you are here."
"I would like that," Emle whispered. "But are you certain I'm not imposing--" She set the mug down on the table Sennet had placed beside her bed and awkwardly shifted her bandaged and splinted arm. "If you are certain you don't mind."
"I don't mind," Sennet said. Again.
It had been three days now since she'd found the wounded swan, and Emle had not stopped protesting Sennet's offer to let her stay. She had also not volunteered much in the way of information. She seemed content to sit and read or watch the world pass by outside, as if she craved stillness more than anything else in the world.
And perhaps she did. Her clothes were worn and patched, and her shoes had holes that could not be repaired through mundane means.
"I apologize," Emle said now. "I--It's been months since I've had to speak to anyone. And I'm not quite sure what to say." She smiled. "Except thank you, of course. But you already know that."
"You don't have to say anything," Sennet assured her. "You owe me nothing. But if I can help in any way--"
"Could I--" Emle hesitated. "Could I stay here until my daughter is born?"
"Of course," Sennet said.
Emle nodded. For a moment, Sennet thought that was the end of their conversation, as before.
"The--The father of my daughter gave me back my skin," Emle whispered. "I might have erred in leaving him so soon."
"He didn't want you to leave?" Sennet asked.
"I don't know," Emle replied, and picked up the mug of tea again. She stared into its depths, as if reading her fortune, and set it down again, untouched. "I felt I had to leave. To search for my kin. I was a prisoner, and the father of my daughter set me free."
Her voice was soft and matter-of-fact, but Sennet both heard and felt the emotion running beneath those few words.
"He set you free--"
"And then he found my skin, and I left him."
"To search for your kin," Sennet said. "Did you ask him if he wanted to come with you?"
Emle shook her head. "I left." She rested her hand on her stomach for a moment, then continued, her voice softer. "I thought--that is how it works in the stories, after all. But he--he did not kidnap me. And when he found my skin, I--I didn't know what to do."
"The stories." Sennet tried to think if she had heard these stories before.
"Human men kidnap my kind," Emle said without a single qualm. "We are forced to be their wives, their slaves, until we find our skins again and can escape. That is how it works in the stories."
"But there is a Council now," Sennet said gently. "And I doubt they would condone such a thing."
Emle shrugged. "We were never beholden to the Council." She tried to smile, but her smile slipped into sadness. "I fear I've made a terrible mistake, but I don't know what to do about it."
"You could contact him," Sennet suggested. "And let him know you're okay. He's probably worried about you."
"He probably hates me by now," Emle whispered. "And that's easier said than done. He--He does not know about the baby." She closed her eyes. "I am weary."
"I'll leave you alone, then," Sennet said, standing. "If you're awake for supper, I will bring you a tray."
A tear slipped down the side of Emle's cheek, but she nodded. "Thank you, Sennet. Without your aid--"
Sennet briefly touched her hand, giving her a bit of strength to stand upon. "Healers go where they are called," she said. "We have time yet. We'll figure something out."
They didn't have as much time as she expected. Gauging a birthday was a tricky thing in the best of times, and this was not the best of times.
Two days later, Emle's daughter decided to grace her presence on the world.
Emle named her Erianthe.
Next Update May 3rd
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