Huntress: Part IV

Con went to his saddlebags to retrieve the invitation, still ensconced in its intricately carved box.

Con had the disconcerting feeling that the man might pry open his mouth and examine his teeth, but then the rider only asked, “Who are your companions?”

Their skin was almost translucent, and she could swear she saw the texture of their muscles moving beneath it.

Before she could answer, the Huntsman called to him in a sharp tone of voice, and the young one looked briefly petulant before he withdrew, going back to the edge of the circle of riders.

Kaede often watched the riders surreptitiously, marveling at the grace of their movements.

They were like dancers, sinuous and light on their feet, yet there was always something about them that marked them as plainly inhuman.

“Would you like to try some of our food?” he asked. Lying on an unfolded cloth was a square of something that was yellowish-white in color. To Kaede, it looked like a white bean cake, but there was something different about its texture.

The closer they came, the more light-headed she felt, and she only hoped that she would be able to adjust to it quickly. So far, though, it was making her feel queasy.

Giant windows, cut into facets that held the light like prisms, climbed up the tallest towers.

They peered out from balconies, or from beneath archways between houses, or from meticulously landscaped parks that opened onto the white stone boulevard.

The vista of the city below was astounding—hill upon hill of buildings formed out of the same white stone that built this palace

The fragrance itself was intoxicating enough, and she put it down and looked at Con.

The sound of celebration followed her through the open doors—music and voices, all mingled together in a joyous crescendo.

She longed to be a part of it, to dance among the Xi, and she realized she was gripping the balustrade with white fingers, her goblet tipping precariously until water splashed down on the white stone.

The lights glowed on her skin, making her seem gilded.

Heat suffused Taisin’s cheeks, and Kaede drew her closer, her breath a soft tickle across Taisin's lips, and kissed her.

Her breath was ragged in her throat; her limbs felt weak, as though she had just climbed a thousand steps; her hand holding the broken stem shook.

She took the cloth from him and began to sweep up the broken shards.

Beneath that, she felt the heady rush of the woman’s power, as if her veins ran with fire.

King Cai and Lord Raiden knew every detail of the political machinations that were about to erupt in civil war in the southern provinces, but they had no idea what was going on in the Wood.

He led them down long corridors of gray-veined marble, past banks of sunny windows, and through a rotunda in which a statue of a unicorn lifted its head toward the arched ceiling.

At the far end of the room, a low dais supported a crystal throne cushioned in green silk.

The thought galvanized him.

“She was given everything, this girl—every delicacy, every bauble, every privilege I could give her—but she always wanted more. She was stubborn. She would never acknowledge that she was not truly Xi. She demanded to be named my heir, but it was impossible. The time has not yet come for me to name an heir, and when it does, I will not choose a halfling.”

“The meridians of the world are tangled up there, forced into some kind of knot that she has created. She has gathered winter all around her; I can feel the cold from here. Her actions have altered the seasons elsewhere. I have tried to bring the seasons into alignment here in Taninli, but the chaos you describe in your kingdom—it can only be a symptom of what she has done.”

All of her balked at the Queen’s demand.

She would sight her quarry and draw the arrow as smoothly as if her body were made of quicksilver.

Eight dogs, each with thick gray coats shading into white bellies and paws, had been led into the courtyard by a thin, spry Xi woman.

She laughed, her whole body shaking with mirth while Kaede and Con watched her, horrified.

The sight filled Kaede with dread, and she had to force herself to look past Taisin, where the ground plummeted down again.

The slope was not as precipitous there as it was near Kaede, but it was steep enough that she couldn’t see what had happened to Con, for the rope attaching them together had disappeared into a crevice.

She looked down; Taisin was still motionless on the snow. But the rope that had gone into the crevice was loose now.

The air here was frigid, but peculiarly exhilarating.

“You can slide it in here. Give me your scabbard and I can fit it into your boot.”

The tunnel was so interminable that she was unprepared when it abruptly ended in a vast chamber as large as a cavern.

Some were very small—barely the size of her hand, tiny humanoid beings with butterfly-like wings in riotous shades of gold and orange.

There were some who looked like human women, but had skin the color of moss and lips like bark; they moved with a lissome grace, treading circles in their cages.

Her face was suffused with pleasure in her own power, and she leaned forward, asking in a coquettish tone, “Can you guess what I’m doing, Kaede?”

In those brief moments when she was floating free, Kaede had almost forgotten what it was like to be corporeal.

Kaede heard a rising cacophony coming from the cavern beyond.

The sprite emerged from the fortress first, followed by one of the lithe, willowy nymphs with fingers like small branches.

The knockers—hardy mountain dwellers accustomed to the cold—carried those who would have otherwise frozen: some of the dryads, or the winged sylphs, whose bodies were limp in the wintry air.

The Huntsman took stock of their bedraggled appearance and ordered someone to care for Con’s leg and Taisin’s shoulder, and then he came to Kaede and regarded her gravely.

But as they rode through the streets of the Xi city, it became clear that the same miasma was affecting everyone.

She wanted to drown in the deepness of the Northern Sea, feel its gelid water seeping into her.