Page 105 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
We rode north for nearly an hour before dismounting at a copse of trees nestled into vast rolling hills of purples and greens and browns. Moorlands, they were called, and they were teeming with life.
In Socair, it didn’t matter that the land was mostly unoccupied, not when so much of it was uninhabitable. But of course, Lochlann didn’t have that issue. Everything in this kingdom was primed for life—or at least, it seemed to be.
A herd of cows with long horns grazed on the hills, their eyes completely covered by long, shaggy hair. Tall rabbits and russet-colored squirrels darted through the heather and mossy grasses. Birds flew overhead, singing a chorus that filled the hills with a cacophony of music. I wondered if it was ever quiet here or if chaos was just infused into every living thing on this side of the mountains.
In Socair, it wasn’t just that food stores were low. It was harder to hunt since not many things could survive at such a high elevation, at least by comparison to Lochlann.
Something I wasn’t sure any person in our hunting party understood.
As we crept forward through the heather, conversation came to a halt. Movement in the distance caught my eye. I looked up in time to see a large red deer with four great horns turn its head in our direction, but before it could even register our presence, an arrow sailed through the air, landing in its neck.
As soon as it hit the ground, Finn turned toward us with a smarmy grin.
“Well, that’s the hunt then,” Davin said drily. “There’s no point in carrying on now that Gloating-MacGloaterson got the first kill.”
“I always get the first kill,” Finn quickly fired back.
Oliver ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair as he shrugged. “Sounds an awful lot like gloating to me.”
Gallagher chuckled, and his father put on a show of mock offense.
“Haud yer wheesht, and go fetch the buck already,” King Logan grumbled. “You might have gotten the first kill, but we’ll see who goes back with the largest one.”
Finn muttered something under his breath about size never having been an issue for him. Davin and Oliver laughed outright while Gallagher’s expression twisted in disgust.
Even the king couldn’t help but smirk at that, though his smile fell a bit flatter as he met my gaze. He quickly looked away, and it was an effort not to roll my eyes. I thought we’d made some progress during our game of Dominion, but I was still the man who was marrying his daughter, who had the potential to take her away from him.
I was still a threat to this family he had worked so hard to build. And I wasn’t sure that any amount of board games or hunting parties or shared weapons preferences would change that.
An itch formed between my shoulder blades.
It wasn’t that I cared if I had his approval—or should care—though it would certainly make things easier for Rowan if I did. But that was something the king wasn’t likely to be forced into any time soon.
Eventually, we found ourselves within the forest, following the signs of our next kill until they intersected with a trail.There they became obscured in the muddy soil and a litany of overlapping tracks until they were no longer clear.
“A herd,” Oliver said quietly.
The king nodded, bending low to the ground to run his hands over one of the hoofprints. His features grew thoughtful as he examined the trail. Then he made a few silent hand signals that were easy enough to interpret; he and Oliver would continue on through the middle of the forest, while Finn and Gallagher would try to cut the herd off from the left, and Davin and I from the right.
We crept quietly through the trees, or at least, I did. Once we were out of earshot Davin made no more pretenses of being interested in the hunt.
“So,” he began, drawing out the vowel.
When I glanced back at him, he was holding a small roll of parchment with a familiar black seal between two of his fingers. The wax was lifted from the page making it clear that he had already opened it and had undoubtedly read the contents of the letter.
I sighed, stuffing down my annoyance at the invasion of privacy. There was no point in it when I’d had the sneaking suspicion that someone was likely reading my messages.
Though, why he would be so open about having read this one, was beyond me.
“I considered replacing this on your breakfast tray this morning, but I wanted a moment to discuss this with you in person.”
That answered that question.
I reached out a hand for the letter, but he held it back, raising a single black eyebrow.
“You said you would keep her safe this time,” he reminded me, only a vague hint of his playful nature on his face.
“And I will,” I said in no uncertain terms, though my mouth went drier as I considered what might be in the letter to make him question that. I stretched my hand out farther, more impatiently this time, and he finally relinquished it.