Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,37

appearing out of thin air. Bare-chested, he wore leather pants and matching mud-brown boots. A wild nest of hair was drawn into a frizzy knot at his nape. His beard hung in tangles down to his navel with leaves and twigs and burs as accents. He stood two heads taller than me and was three times as wide, his muscles thick and smeared with dried mud.

“I am the Master of the Wild Hunt.” A breeze whirled around him smelling of fresh soil and wet dog. “As your father cannot be here, I have come in his stead. I will grant you my protection while you are on these grounds. That is a sight more certain and true than any offer this one can make you.”

“He’s right.” Raven set his jaw. “His word is good. Have no fear of that.”

The apparition that was the Huntsman waited until I stepped beside Raven.

Magic sizzled and popped, sealing us inside a protective bubble anchored to the floor by the circle.

“Thierry Thackeray,” a voice drifted from the balcony. “We have been expecting you.”

I glanced first at the seated fae before my gaze slid past their shoulders to the wall behind them.

Reflections now filled each of the mirrors. Both were sidhe males, both dressed in somber robes. They were visible to us from the waist up, the rest of their bodies obscured by the odd fae sitting before them. The crests above their frames luminesced, revealing ornate designs. One matched Raven’s, a raptor with a serpent in its claws, except it faced right-side up. The other showed a stag with enormous antlers wearing a serene expression.

The image in the frame beneath the stag smiled benevolently at me. “I am Consul Liosliath of House Seelie.”

Under the raptor crest, Liosliath’s counterpart scowled. “I am Consul Daibhidh of House Unseelie.”

“You have been informed of our dilemma,” Liosliath intoned. “We are most grateful for your consideration in coming here to attempt a mutually beneficial compromise.”

Compromise. Blackmail. Poh-tay-toh. Pah-tah-toh.

“What you do not know,” Daibhidh said with a hint of a grin, “is that King Moran is dead.”

I jerked my head toward Raven. The king was dead? Crap. Now all the threats and secrecy made sense. A crown was at stake. Wars had been fought for much less. Double crap. The conclave didn’t know. If they had, they would have locked the threshold down so tight not even a pixie fart could drift through the wards.

“He was murdered,” Liosliath corrected. “Therefore, a new king must be chosen by Right of Hunt.”

My breath caught in the vise clamping around my chest. They meant the Coronation Hunt, the hunt my father had instituted as a means of determining which house was fit to rule without rampant bloodshed.

I rubbed my forehead, taking all of it in. “There hasn’t been an assassination since...”

“Not since the Black Dog assembled the High Court and instituted the Right of Hunt,” Daibhidh supplied. “It was his blood that sealed the contract and brought peace to Faerie. The Coronation Hunt was his idea, and is his responsibility to maintain. The Huntsman is prepared, his hounds eager, and yet Macsen is not here.”

“The Sullivan tracks our king’s murderer,” Liosliath scolded.

Daibhidh sneered. “He does one duty to the detriment of another.”

The Huntsman exhaled on a snort.

“They can argue for days,” he told me in a quiet voice. “The Seelie want your father to find the king’s killer. The Unseelie want him to lead the hunt so that a new ruler is crowned before the old one is cold in his grave.”

“My mother was taken,” I told him just as softly. “She’s the only reason I’m here.”

He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I’ve heard nothing of a human in the Halls.”

Dread soured the broth in my gut. Mom had to be here. She had to be.

Tired of listening to the consuls bicker, I wanted straight answers. I just needed to get their attention first.

I tested the bubble with my toe. It held. I can fix that. Murmuring my Word, I removed my glove, and soft light pooled at my feet. Pushing energy through my hand, I shoved my palm straight up against the dome. Magic hit the reinforced shield, and it exploded outward with a deafening pop of air.

Silence fell around me. Into it, I challenged, “I came here to negotiate for the return of my mother.”

“Your mother is missing?” Liosliath’s brow furrowed as his reflection glanced at Daibhidh. “Is this House Unseelie’s doing?”

Unruffled by the accusation, Daibhidh waved his hand. “For all we know