Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,39

silky, midnight fur.

The Seelie held the hound’s gaze while the Unseelie spoke. “Only in death have we known peace. If we had raised our voices instead of our swords, much of our grief might have been circumvented. Loyal beast, reaper, it is our final wish that Faerie never endure the misery of another Thousand Years War.”

“Mark this day, Black Dog,” the Seelie intoned. “Tonight you are the hunter, but one hundred years hence, you shall become the hunted. One prince from each of our houses will hunt you across Faerie wearing the skins of hounds, goaded by your own Huntsman while you wear the skin of a sidhe noble. Your blood will anoint the new ruler and usher in one hundred more years of prosperity for the fae.”

Instead of consuming the spirits as the Huntsman had decreed, Black Dog bowed his head to their will. That simple act of defiance shattered the bonds between himself and the Huntsman, and Black Dog gained awareness. As a gift to aid him in the trials ahead, the Unseelie entered his left eye and the Seelie his right, so that Black Dog might always view both sides of any argument with impartiality.

Black Dog also gained the form of a man so that he might stand toe-to-toe with kings. He named himself Macsen Sullivan and established the Faerie High Court, choosing one Seelie and one Unseelie consul to join him, and instituted the Right of the Hunt.

Once a century, he was run to ground and torn to pieces. The blood of one man was spilled to determine a king. His sacrifice avoided the slaughter of thousands had the houses gone to war for the crown. For the seven days after he was laid to rest in Faerie’s soul, the realm mourned him. Lore said those tears seeped into the soil and restored him, and he rose at midnight on the seventh day made whole again.

My father was a legend, and by doing this, I too would go down in history. I just wouldn’t get back up again. I was half mortal. The best I could hope for was being long-lived. The immortality thing Mac had going didn’t extend to me.

This gave temp job a whole new meaning.

Raven stepped forward. “I claim the right of coimirceoir.”

Both consuls gaped at him.

The Huntsman growled, “On what grounds can you claim guardianship of this girl?”

“She is not a girl, but a woman.” Raven set his shoulders back. “She is also my wife.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Wife? Clearly I wasn’t the only one who had sniffed the toadstools.

“She looks surprised to hear you call her that,” the Huntsman observed.

The consuls exchanged wary glances.

Liosliath narrowed his eyes. “What proof do you offer of the validity of this union?”

“Thierry has warmed her hands at my hearth, eaten at my table.” A pinkish flush crept up Raven’s throat. “She has disrobed in my chambers and even now she wears the colors and cuts of my house.”

His freaking wife. That was the point of the meal and the clothes and the kindness. Why? What use was I to him or anyone else beyond this point? I had accepted their offer. I was dog chow. Why tighten the noose around my neck?

“We aren’t married.” Barely suppressed rage trembled through the words.

“She is a Christian. She adopted her mother’s faith,” Raven explained away my outburst while cutting a shiver-inducing glare my way. “She desires a formal ceremony conducted by her priest before publically acknowledging our union.”

“Given her limited knowledge of this realm,” the Huntsman murmured, “Rook’s familiarity with Faerie would make for a more interesting hunt. I vote yea.”

Beware the Rook. The warning clanged in my mind.

“Rook?” I whirled toward Raven. “No. You’re Raven, the Morrigan’s son.”

Daibhidh almost laughed himself off the wall. “Raven is in his rooms upstairs, as any sensible noble would be during these unsettled times. I can introduce you if you like, but you’ll meet soon enough.”

“He didn’t mean the chess piece,” I whispered to myself. “A rook...is a bird.”

“Rooks are corvids, dear girl, as are all those of the Morrigan’s line.” Daibhidh wiped a tear from his cheek. “Rook, you are a credit to your family. I was right to trust you with luring Macsen’s pup here, but marrying her? You have outdone yourself.”

“I am not his wife.” The tips of my ears burned. “I didn’t consent to any union.”

And yet, as I mentally retraced my footsteps through Faerie, I saw each moment leading up to when I stepped neatly into his snare.

I was