Hunted(27)

Her escort came to a halt, forcing her to stop as well. There came a faint whoosh of air, as of a door sliding open, and then a wall of heat struck her. She gasped, lifting her hand from the coat and reaching without thinking for her blindfold.

“Don’t.” It was more growl than word, spoken so close to her ear that the force of his breath stirred her hair.

Her hand froze, and she fought the burning need to flee blindly back down the corridor. He is my ally, she reminded herself, face turning to the unseen heat. He is my ally. He is not to be feared.

“Come.”

She found his shoulder again, and he led her forward into the room she could not see. Behind her the door slid closed again with a scrape and a click. The cold stone under her bare feet gave way to lush carpet, sending a wave of unexpected pleasure through her. How long since she’d felt such riches? Not for the first time, she wondered where she could possibly be.

Her ally led her forward and then bade her sit. Yeva relinquished her hold on his shoulder with reluctance. The fur had been warm and soft, and she’d found herself enjoying the feel of another person under her hand. She felt around with her feet and discovered a pile of cushions, and sank down onto them. To her left was the crackle and hiss of a fire, heat hammering at her skin.

“You may stay in this room as long as is necessary for you to recover your health,” said the voice. Yeva’s heart surged. “On one condition.”

“What condition?”

“That you never remove the blindfold for any reason. If you do, you will die. Do you understand?”

Yeva swallowed. She would rather die warm and comfortable than cold and ill. But better not to die at all. “Yes. I will not remove it. You have my word.”

“Tell me about your father.”

Yeva paused midmeal, swallowing her mouthful of roasted pheasant. “My father,” she echoed.

“You speak of your sisters, your servant, your mother. But never your father. Do you hate him so much?”

She blinked behind her blindfold, trying to read the hazy shapes beyond it. Some light made it through the silk, but she could not track anything unless it stood between her and the light. “No. I loved him.”

“Then, do you not speak of him because he is dead?”

Yeva’s throat closed again, despite having recovered over the past three days from the chill from the cell. Her cough remained, but mostly when she slept. Now, her throat constricted with grief instead.

“How do you know he’s dead?” she whispered.

“You said you loved him.” The voice emphasized the word loved, the past tense sounding final and heavy.

Yeva fell silent, listening to the fire, meal forgotten. Her ally had managed to source more food for her since her reprieve from the cell, the richest of game cooked to perfection. Perhaps he, too, was a hunter. Perhaps he’d understand.

“Before my father met my mother he was the greatest hunter in all of Rus. Maybe the world. He stopped to please her, for it was dangerous work, but in his heart he loved the forest. He was the only one who could venture into its heart, hunt the wildest and strangest of creatures who lived there.”

“You have only mentioned sisters. Had he no sons?”

Yeva shook her head. “Only my sisters and me, the youngest.” She hesitated. But what did it matter what her ally thought of her? He would not risk the anger of her captor to help her and then turn away because of scandal. She took a slow breath. “When I was young he treated me as he would a son, teaching me what he knew. I hunted at his side. I was happiest there.”

“He trained you to hunt? Hunt as he did? With the same skills?” For the first time something colored the heavy voice—surprise, perhaps. Or dismay. Yeva found it difficult to read the emotion.

She lifted her chin. “You disapprove,” she commented. “Because I’m a girl?”

“No.” The voice paused. “Females are often the best hunters. They must provide for the young and survive when the males are too busy posturing to do so. But this is not the way with humans.”

“Humans?” Yeva’s thoughts ground to a halt. How could he speak as if he weren’t one?

Another pause. “I apologize. I spend all my time here in the forest, and find myself more at home here among the beasts than among men. By now I am more beast than man myself.”

This time Yeva had no difficulty reading the emotion there. Bitterness, thick and black and bringing the color to her cheeks. “I don’t think that’s true,” she found herself saying.

“No?”

“No,” she replied firmly. “You’ve helped me when you didn’t have to. When whoever put me in that cell could return and punish you for letting me leave.”

The air stirred, and Yeva saw a shadow move beyond the blindfold. The shape was huge—her ally must have been closer than she had thought.

“You know nothing,” snarled the voice. His steps moving away were heavy on the carpet. The door opened and closed, and Yeva was left in silence again.





BEAST


We pace, more at home right now in our den of earth and cold than within four walls of stone and fire. Over our head the earth trembles with our steps, showering our fur with dirt.

He trained her to hunt as he did. She has his skills. We have been waiting for someone with the skills to rescue her, the skills to serve us, when she has been within our grasp all along. And we nearly let her rot to death in the cell.