Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,47
to call if things got bad,” I said quietly. “When I got into the kind of trouble that meant I would have been locked up for the rest of my life, she dialed the number, and the conclave sent Shaw to fetch me. They saved me. They gave me a higher purpose.”
“Do you enjoy your work?”
“I do.” The honesty of my answer surprised me. “Humans fall prey to creatures they don’t stand a chance against. I like making fae think twice before breaking the law in my region.” What I didn’t confess was how much the hunter in me enjoyed the pursuit. Or how well suited my gifts were to my trade. Rook was perceptive. He would guess even if I didn’t confirm it for him. “I like helping people.”
“Humans aren’t the only ones in need of help.” His lips parted, but he said nothing more.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Humans could be just as screwed up as fae. I knew that better than most. “But anything inhuman has the strength and resources to have a fighting chance. Most humans don’t.”
His forehead creased. “Does that include you?”
I mashed my lips together. “That’s what I get for making sweeping generalizations.”
“I’m curious.” He adjusted under my weight, calling attention to the fact I still sat on his lap.
“I haven’t got it all figured out, but I do okay.” I admitted, “Or I did until I met you.”
I untangled our limbs and pushed off his chest.
His hand circled my wrist. “A few minutes more.”
After a moment’s hesitation, where I decided he was more comfortable than a tree limb, I let him drag me back down. “What do you know about bystanders in regard to the hunt? I met one last night.”
“Ah. You saw them earlier, at the Halls.”
“The googly-eyed things guarding the mirrors, right?”
“Yes.” He chuckled. “They’re called Watchers and travel in pairs. They’re the eyes of their respective houses. Each records the hunt for review later in case there are any disputes about the outcome.”
Great. All my bumbling recorded for posterity. “What was the deal with those mirrors anyway?”
“The consuls are great powers.” Rook toyed with the frazzled ends of my hair. “They are strong enough to project their likeness or voice anywhere they wish. They never attend hearings in the flesh. With the exception of your father, I don’t know of a single fae who has ever met them.”
Interesting. “The Watchers are the consuls’ guardians?”
He waited a moment before answering, “Yes.”
“The one I encountered felt powerful.” More powerful than it had at the meeting.
“They draw on the power of the house they serve,” he explained. “They aren’t a threat to you.”
“That makes two who aren’t,” I grumbled.
For once Rook didn’t protest that he wasn’t a threat, and for once I wondered if perhaps he wasn’t.
Was he bound in service to his brother’s house the way I was bound to the conclave? Live or die. Easy choice. Even if choosing life meant doing things that once appalled you. At least you were alive. You had, if not the opportunity for change, the hope for it. You had reasons to keep you going.
How could I blame Rook if he was under the same sanctions as I was?
My duty to the mortal realm was to maintain peace at any cost. That I was a death dealer meant that kind of maintenance came naturally to me. Rook was death-touched too. Now that I knew he was a half-blood like me, I had no doubt there had been a steep price for him surviving this extraordinary world.
Ancient as he claimed to be—and his weary eyes dated him—he was a hardcore survivor. I didn’t see him ceding his battle in the foreseeable future, not to me or on my behalf.
Old things got old by being smart and not making waves.
My coming here caused a splash and sent ripples through Faerie’s stagnant waters. Rook’s hand might not push me under, but holding on to his arm wouldn’t keep my head above water either. It hit me whoever sent him might have thought his muddied bloodlines would help win me over, that I might trust a half-blood more readily than a pure-blooded fae. I guess Raven had thought otherwise.
No time like the present to ask. “Why did you tell me you were Raven?”
“I never said I was. I said I was the Morrigan’s son, and you assumed I meant Raven.” He voice grew a sharp edge. “I thought if I went to you as a prince, you would