xxiii.

HOLLIS STOOD BATHED in the light of the moon in the chilly air. The air was different in some way. He could taste it, taste Faerie, and the taste was growing more intense as he walked into the dense growth of the forest.

He'd left Fifer along the path he knew the Hunt would take. It was odd how the land here was all so similar, so many long years after he'd been taken from his place here.

She'd been nervous leading up to it, chattering anxiously, preoccupied with various elements that they didn't have control over.

But tonight, she'd been silent and strong, determination in the set of her chin, and she had ushered him off, her voice brisk, telling him that she was fine and that she had this part handled, that she wouldn't let him down. Some part of her had grown to an iron current of certainty, and he saw that in her and was awash in awe for her strength. The way he felt for her that moment was near worship. He hadn't known he could love a woman like that, love anything like that.

Now, even as he walked into the wildness of the woods, he felt his love for her, a tether that let out slack as he walked away but was tied firm. Faerie tugged at him, but he belonged to her now. Faerie could never have him back.

He shimmered through the veil. He hadn't been expecting it. He couldn't see it in the way he used to be able to see. Abruptly, everything changed. His vision sharpened. He could see more detail, more brightness. All his senses were more attuned, and he could hear and smell and feel so much more —textures, depth, intensity.

Home .

But not home.

An odd feeling, that.

The new leader of the Hunt looked him over, his features fierce, holding the deer skull mask he wore against his hip.

Not like me, Hollis thought. This man just pretends to be me. He needs a mask.

The man uttered a name—his true name—and he went still at the sound of it. She told him my name? he thought, betrayed. The Queen must have done that. She was the only one who knew it.

Knowing the name of a fae, it was the deepest of all magics.

He was helpless now, under the thrall of this tall, haughty, smooth-skinned man.

"You come to us, Lord of the Hunt," said the man, an awful, arrogant smile playing on his lips. He was flush with the power he held over Hollis. It must be a delightful joke to him, holding his predecessor in the palm of his hand like this. "To be expelled forever from the realm of the eternals. To die ."

Hollis couldn't talk. He couldn't move.

"I'm honored to be so instrumental in your destruction," laughed the man, settling his mask over his face.

The white steed materialized out of the darkness, shaking its head, whinnying, glowing like a ghost, like a second moon. It reared up on its hind legs, kicking its hooves high in the air.

The leader of the Hunt snapped his fingers and the horse came down on its hooves. Docile now, it came to Hollis. He was still frozen, under the control of the other man, who forced him up onto the horse's back.

Then, it was all Hollis could do to hold on.

The Hunt galloped at a wild pace, horn braying against the night sky in a way that penetrated the air and made it crackle. Hollis couldn't make out his surroundings as they streaked by.

He wouldn't be able to see her, he realized. He wouldn't be able to help her. He was at the mercy of the whims of the fae. And being a fae, he knew exactly how cruel and capricious his people could be.