probably has a concussion.”
“I do not have a concussion,” Birch complained.
“You have no way of knowing that. You just thumped your head into the dirt and couldn’t talk for like five minutes. You should have worn a helmet.” I tapped mine for emphasis. “Just saying.”
Birch staggered to his feet and veered in his horse’s direction.
“Though the hunt is over, I refuse to recognize the Night Court as the winner,” Fell announced.
“Nobody cares, King of Fall,” I said.
“I’m the King of Autumn!”
“Nobody cares about that either.” I leaned back in my saddle and glanced around.
The shades were happily trotting among the night mares, their tails wagging wildly as their tongues hung from their mouths—it made them look a little scarier than normal as it meant the shadows of their fur seemed extra ethereal, but they were happy!
The glooms were just as content. Whiskers was practically strutting through our little pack, and Muffin’s purrs sounded like a chainsaw.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I couldn’t have done that without you.”
The night mares twitched their tails, the glooms chuffed, and the shades panted happily. But in the back of my mind, I wondered…where had Blue Moon taken the stag?
My question was answered when we got back to the base camp.
I hopped off Comet and had just enough time to pat her neck and step back before Queen Verdant threw herself at me.
For a wild moment, I thought she was trying to kill me. Her arms were around my neck and she was squeezing me hard.
And then I heard her sobs and felt her tears as she cried into my neck. “Thank you. Thank you!” She repeated again and again, her voice trembling as she held tight.
“Um?” I looked to Rigel for help, but my consort was purposely caught up in rubbing Steve’s head and wouldn’t look at me.
Thankfully, Skye and Indigo were not so shy.
They approached me, looking from the crying monarch to me. Indigo’s eyebrows were impressively high up her forehead, and Skye was patting her pants pockets—looking for her tin of antacids.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” I whispered. “I caught the stag and had Blue Moon take him to safety and now this?” I patted Queen Verdant’s back.
Skye briefly tilted her head back, then nodded. “I see.”
“Do you? Because I don’t.” I spoke a little louder this time, because Queen Verdant didn’t seem to mind. She was still crying, though her hushed thank yous had become more sobs—of relief, I think?
Indigo took Comet’s reins and led her off, but Skye remained behind.
“You saved him. You saved him,” Verdant said once she could breathe again—though she still hadn’t let me go. “Thank you!”
I opened my mouth to ask who I had saved when Skye—the best steward ever—explained.
“I believe she is referring to the stag,” Skye said.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Skye said. “Because it is from her Court.”
I had to digest that for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“Just as the night mares are important to the Night Court, and the sun stallions matter to the Day Court, so do the spring stags belong to the Spring Court,” Skye said.
“But the sun stallions and the night mares are Court treasures,” I said.
“Yes.” Skye waited until I met her gaze. “As are the spring stags. Queen Verdant has a stable of them. According to gossip, they are her mount of choice for Court outings.”
All the thoughts careening around my brain quieted as I struggled to piece together what was happening.
If the white stag was supposed to be treasured—like my night mares—then the act of hunting one, of chasing it down and killing it was a thousand times more brutal than I’d thought.
There was no way it could be viewed in a good light. And suddenly Verdant’s desperation to win the hunt, Fell’s and Birch’s snippy comments at her, they all started to make sense.
And that forest—Blue Moon didn’t take him to our home. He took the stag to the stag’s home!
I twitched, barely holding myself in check as my anger stirred. Steady. Find out who is doing this first.
Verdant finally let me go and took in a shivery breath. “T-thank you. I owe you a debt.” Her gaze was strong and resolute as she uttered perhaps the most dangerous lines for a fae.
No fae liked to be indebted to another. It was dangerously open-ended, and it gave another power over them.
Putting herself in debt to me out of all the monarchs—and willingly—made me question everything I’d thought about her.
The air was filled with ghostly howls, and as