live,” Gavin said, his voice dull. “Everything wants to live.”
On the other side of Gavin, Elban pulled at his reins. His horse stomped. “Does the Commander of the Army find the blood distasteful?”
It was more words altogether than Theron’s father had ever said to him at once. “No, Lord,” Theron said. “I mean, I’m f-fine, Lord.” Cursed stutter.
Elban’s ice-blue eyes fixed on him. “Time, Seneschal?”
“Fourteen minutes,” the gray man said.
“In one minute, Commander of the Army, I will have won the game. Do you think the beast can last one more minute?”
The deer had given up standing. Her head lay in the dried needles and leaves on the forest floor. The hounds were disemboweling her with excruciating slowness. As Theron watched, horrified, she blinked. He could feel his tongue wanting to stutter. “Yes, Lord,” was all he dared say. Elban said nothing in response, and neither did anyone else. In a panic to fill the silence, Theron said, “What’s the p-prize, Lord?”
“The p-prize?” Elban smiled. “Tell your brother what the p-prize is, heir.”
“Anything he wants,” Gavin said.
Theron felt sick.
“Anything I want. That’s the p-prize. Anything, or anyone.” The courtiers laughed, hooting lewdly. “So. Just another day, I suppose.” He pulled his reins again. This time his animal backed up, took a few steps to the side. Now he was next to Theron. He wore black, as always. A silver dagger hung at his belt. He pulled it out and pointed it at Theron. “I’ll tell you what, Commander of the Army. When I have won my p-prize, you, too, may have what you want.” He flipped the dagger in his hand, extending it hilt-first. “You may kill the deer. End the p-poor thing’s suffering.”
The last words dripped with sarcasm. The courtiers laughed again.
Behind Elban, Gavin did not look up. Theron took the dagger.
“Time, Lord,” the Seneschal said.
Elban’s eyes glinted. Theron knew eyes didn’t really do that but some motion in the muscles around them made him understand how that expression came to be. “Well, then. Commander?”
Still no help from Gavin. Slowly, Theron slid off his horse. His legs hurt and he paused for a moment with both boots on the ground, so he wouldn’t stumble. Elban made a noise in his throat that drew all of the hounds back from what was left of the deer, and Theron made himself watch to see if her chest still rose and fell. It did. The hounds had blank, all-black eyes. There were as many of them as there were men behind him and he felt the weight of all their gazes equally. Blood spattered their gray hides, dripped from their jaws as they panted; curious about this new thing on the ground, sensing that he was somehow neither master nor exactly prey.
They had torn the deer’s chest open, exposing her ribs. I’ll just put the dagger through her heart, Theron thought. She won’t feel anything. She’ll just die. Then we can go back to the House. This will be over.
The trees in the western woods were smooth-barked and still leafless, reaching skeletally up into the sky. Dead leaves crunched under Theron’s boots. He was acutely aware of the hunting horses behind him, all strong and quick and tall, the men on them strong and quick and tall, as well. He was the smallest, weakest thing in this clearing, with the possible—and only the possible—exception of the deer.
He took another step. The deer’s eye—brown, not black—rolled toward him in the socket, to see what new torture he brought. He could not believe he had ever looked forward to this. He did not ever want to do it again.
“Commander of the Army,” he heard his father sneer, behind him, and it made him angry. Who else was he supposed to be, other than who he was? How was he supposed to have grown into this person his father wanted, when his father refused to even acknowledge his existence? He gripped the dagger tightly, and made himself take the three steps to the deer.
Oh, gods. The smell.
He heard a noise behind him and turned.
Gavin was off his horse. The noise he’d heard had been his brother’s boots hitting the ground. He had a dagger at his belt, too, except it wasn’t at his belt anymore. It was in his hand.
He’s going to do it for me, Theron thought with a mixture of anger and relief. He doesn’t think I can do it. He thinks I’m a coward. He thinks I’m useless. He’s right. I am