Hounded [Wild Hunt Series: 2]

12: Vows

Down On Your Knees —Flora Cash

"No undergarments," the assistant to the seamstress said over the old woman's swat every time I reached for a bra. "You don't want that."

"Why not?"

"It's worse," was all she'd promised. That was all she'd say as she fussed with the braid in my hair, that and another version of the same apology I'd been hearing from everyone all morning. I'd heard I was the last bride to run. On the King's command I was not allowed out of my room except to feed Shail and then get hustled off to the seamstress's tent under the late afternoon sun. There was no one I knew left in the castle besides these two. Everyone had gone into the woods, everyone except the tremendous gargoyle, Cairn, my temporary guardian, and the dour-eyed little grunts of the King.

I walked beside the gargoyle's heavy claws, down through the empty courtyard, past the collections of bones and flowers, dressed in white flats and a dress as light and thin as spider silk. It was beautiful and complex in the way of lingerie; it was not a singular garment but a collection of parts, trussed together by ribbon and ornate pins and clips, as though ready for an eager spouse to tear it off piece by piece. There were no shoes. There was no jewelry, just the frail ghost of a dress that pushed like a veil against my legs as we walked into the wind. Cairn's escort ended at the black wrought gates leading to the forest. The gate ground open as the gargoyle clattered up the wall and disappeared.

I looked across the dusty stretch of wasteland before the towering Malumbrian Oaks. The sun stretched across the ground, rolling dust over the footsteps of the women who'd run before me. As the slant of light dropped further down, I caught sight of a fire just to the right of the gate, a bright green blaze that hissed and crackled as I drew nearer.

Beside it, dressed in a barbarian's finery of fur and leather, and about as clean as I was (well, maybe a little less scrubbed raw than myself; other people bathing me was an experience I never wanted ever again in my life), stood the Walrus.

"Good evening, Lady Wilson."

"'Evening," I said quietly. Standing outside the gates with the Walrus was just as wretched of a gut punch as the beginning of the Hunt, maybe worse, because I knew what had gathered in the dark beyond.

"Listen, you've drawn a good crowd this evening. I want you to know that the forest is hallowed ground tonight, far as it goes for us monsters. Don't be scared of what you see or what they do. Just keep running. They won't hurt ya hard, not with the King and Chiro waiting."

Between us, a piece of the fire broke off, stretched across the ground into the lithe form of a snow leopard. It stood lax, dark emerald eyes expressionless, charring the ground beneath fiery paws.

"Follow it," the Walrus said. "It'll keep them handsy buggers in line, least until you fall under the protection of the King and Prince."

I swallowed hard. "Great."

The warrior's eyes fell on the feminine twist of green fire. He ran a hand over his bald head. "Lady Wilson," he began, "We aren't all fortunate enough to marry for love. When the unfortunate happens, we —"

"I'm not unfortunate," I said. "I love the ones I'm doing this for."

"You hardly know half of 'em, and they don't all love you."

"That's alright," I said, shrugging. I just wanted to seem brave tonight; maybe if I said brave things then that troubled pit in my stomach would fill in. "I didn't ask them to."

The earth pulled the sun below.The leopard's luminescent eyes flashed.

The Walrus observed the cat and myself for a few long moments, then said with a surprisingly soft tone, "You father said the same about you."