Chapter 75

Dove fails to see the fun in trekking through the forest on horseback while told to keep deadly quiet. What does it matter if the horses neigh every few minutes, or when their hooves would cause such ruckus over the rocks and undergrowth. Certainly, any deer in the area would’ve scampered off by now.

Still, the hunting party prevails, with the tracker at the front traveling by foot while scouring the ground for tracks.

She is particularly uncomfortable on her horse that day, having ridden for an hour no with no breaks. Her backside aches a great deal, her lower back burning with tension, and her neck stiff from maintaining the same rigid posture.

Dover decided an hour into the hunt that this activity isn’t for her, unlike Prince Rubin, who appears to be in his element. He maintains a firm hold on his bow, ready to fire at any given moment, while he scans the area for any signs of four-legged life.

Fortunately, it’s still light out, and they’re travelling in a part of the forest where Dwellers aren’t likely to lurk. Otherwise, her father would’ve never suggested that she join her future husband on this trip.

The only upside of the whole affair is the two vampires riding at the back of the party – or rather the one who’s been occupying her dreams lately. Lorcan insisted that Jacques and Gustav join the hunting trip as well just in case of an emergency.

Despite what happened last night and him leaving so abruptly, Dove can’t help but steal a glimpse of Jacques every few minutes, hoping to catch his eye. So far, she’s been unsuccessful, although she suspects he’s avoiding her on purpose. And she would really much like him to stop.

Last night wasn’t a mistake. She liked it – all of it – and wanted to tell that to him personally.

Up front, the tracker halts and makes a few hand gestures, pointing at the ground and then at the forest. Dove assumes he found some tracks when Rubin hurriedly dismounts his horse and moves to help her down.

“We’re tracking by foot from here,” he whispers to her. “Just stay close to me.”

She nods, faking a smile. He’s so excited, the last thing she wants is to spoil his fun. So, keeping her mouth shut, she tiptoes after the party consisting of her father, the human king, her betrothed, and the castle’s healers.

Jacques and Gustav keep a good distance behind the royals, understanding that they’re only there in case someone gets hurt. Gustav is treating the expedition as an opportunity to get out of the castle and interact with nature for once. He’s been enjoying the fresh air ever since they mounted their horses, and would ride with his eyes closed, basking in the sunlight.

Jacques, however, has never been more tense. Forced to ride behind Dove and Rubin, he had the perfect view of the prince helping her off her horse. The healer’s gaze narrowed on the boy’s hand on her waist, and how they lingered there while he ensured she was good to stand on her own.

As if that wasn’t enough torment for one day, the prince continued touching her at every given opportunity. If he’s not helping her over slippery rocks, he’s pulling her up slopes, or lifting her off high grounds. And the more and longer his hands were on her, the more the healer had to fight the urge to break the boy’s fingers one by one.

‘Think healing thoughts,’ Jacques later had to remind himself. ‘Stitches, bandages, yarrow, splints…’

Oblivious to the healer’s inner battle, Dove sticks close to Rubin as they approach a fallen tree. The tracker halts behind it and gestures for everyone to be quiet. Another hand gesture later, and they’re all peering over the trunk.

There, in a clearing, a deer grazes lazily in the midafternoon sun, unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

“Look at that specimen,” King Aldrich mutters softly. It’s perhaps the only time Dove has ever heard him whispering. “That rack will make a fine addition to your and Princess Dove’s room.”

Dove doesn’t mean to pull a face, but she does. Who would want pieces of a dead animal hanging in their room? Gods, please don’t tell her Rubin’s castle is decorated with antlers and stuffed animals.

Her thoughts, however, are interrupted when Rubin offers her his bow. Blinking from the weapon to him, she whispers, “What should I do with this?”

“It’s a tradition in our realm for the women to hunt their first animal before marrying into a new family,” the prince explains. “My mother did it, as did every woman in my lineage.”

“You can do this, love,” Lorcan encourages her. “You are foremost a predator, remember that.”

She wants to fire back saying that she’s only half-predator. And since when do vampires still lurk in towns at night, preying off people in the streets? Again, the only hunting she knows how to do, is hunting for books. But one look at her father, the human king, and the prince tells her that she has no choice. Swallowing her arguments, Dove takes the bow and an arrow from the quiver.

Jacques’ eyes never stray from her as she slowly rises to her feet. The bow appears so big in her hands, the weapon itself almost as tall as she is. Still, he has faith in her. She can do this, she’ll pull that string and hit the target right on the…

“Here, let me help you.”

Jacques’ face drops when Rubin moves to stand behind Dove. The prince’s hands rests on her waist where the healer’s had been only last night, angling her body correctly. A bitter taste fills his mouth at the sight of the boy’s chest pressing into her back, their proximity instilling him with boiling jealousy.

Rubin hums when satisfied with her stance, sounding impressed, “Good form. Now just take a deep breath, aim, and let the arrow fly.”

“I’ll try,” Dove replies, pretending to focus on his instructions.

In truth, she already knew what to do, thanks to what Jacques taught her the previous night.

Dove angles her body correctly and grips the handle. Nocking the arrow into the bow and pulling back the string, she remembers to tighten her core, and draws a slow breath to focus on her aim. A brief reminder of Jacques’ body against hers circles her thoughts, and she quickly shoos it away. This is hardly the time to get distracted.

With her mind somewhat clear, she finally releases the string and send the arrow flying.

Everyone holds their breaths as they watch it soar…hitting the target right on the shoulder.

Dover’s heart misses a beat when the deer drops to the ground, dead. Several emotions swirl within her. Pride for being able to make a successful shot on the first try. Remorse for killing a magnificent animal who had done nothing wrong. Shock when realizing that she had passed Rubin’s test. And finally, pure, unbridled surprise that the root of her success lies with the healer behind her.

It is only fitting that her first instinct is to turn around to see his reaction. But she hardly met his gaze when Rubin is crowding her with a beaming smile.

“That was astonishing, Dove. Absolutely marvellous hunting!” Taking the bow from her hands, he begins leading her around the tree. “Shall we go have a closer look at your first animal?”

First? Does that mean there’ll be more?

There is no time for questions, though, as the prince leads the way through the brush. Dove struggles to keep up with her skirts dragging over the forest ground, catching on roots and rocks.

She worms her wrist out of Rubin’s hand when her dress gets caught on a particularly stubborn shrub, using both hands to tug at it. “You go ahead, I’ll be right there,” she calls to the prince, who has not realized that she had fallen behind.

Not too bothered by him in the moment, Dove channels all her strength into pulling at her skirt until it finally tears free. The force, however, sends her flailing backwards. To root herself, she plants her foot firmly on the ground…only for a screeching ‘SNAP’ to follow.

The next thing she knows, a searing pain erupts around her lower leg as teeth-like blades dig into her flesh. A cry rips though her body, scaring flocks of birds to take to the air.

Dove sinks to her knees, shrinking into herself. The pain is excruciating, spreading through her leg and into her foot like bolts of lightning. Whatever is tearing through her limb is rooted to the ground so tightly, she’d be tearing off her foot before freeing herself from its jaws.

Time stood still when her cry reached the party’s ears, and the last thing she remembers before passing out from raw agony, is the group rushing over and Jacques calling her name in cold dread.