Deception (Fabled Hunters Book 2) Read online

  “Yes, sir,” Isabelle whispered. She nodded her head in a half-bow.

  “Good,” Tyro said. He waved a hand in the direction of her tent. “Get some sleep. When we cross paths with Jack again, stay out of our way.”

  Isabelle nodded again and turned away.

  “Isabelle?” Tyro said. “One more thing. Don’t try to leave, either. Stay with us. I shouldn’t have to remind you that you’re a Hunter now.”

  Isabelle trudged back to her tent. Aviina was right about one thing: Isabelle was an idiot. What had made her think she was Fabled Hunter material? Tyro had spoken up on her behalf to the king, and Isabelle had failed.

  She’d failed them all.

  9

  Opening her eyes, Isabelle shivered in the summer night. It shouldn’t be even remotely cold this far south, but the air was cool. Was it the chill that had woken her?

  She sat up, careful not to wake Aviina. Isabelle hadn't bothered undressing after her discussion with Tyro. She picked up her bow and quiver and quietly pushed the tent flap aside. On an impulse, she picked up her rucksack, shouldering it. She couldn’t say why she did so. She felt the need to be prepared for something. What, she couldn’t say.

  Crawling out of the tent, Isabelle looked around in surprise. A thick white fog had settled over the camp, giving the area an eerie look in the moonlight.

  Peering in the direction where Rudolf had taken the first watch, Isabelle couldn’t see him. “Rudolf?” she whispered.

  No answer. Isabelle frowned. There was something strange about this mist. This was the first time she’d experienced it in the Southern Province.

  Walking away from camp, she started up the slope leading to the low cliffs. Perhaps the high point would give her a better view of the fog. Climbing the steep hill, she found that the fog lessened until reaching the top, it dissipated completely.

  Silvan stood at the edge of the cliff, his long silver hair glinting in the moonlight. A full moon. He watched her silently, expressionless. Beautiful.

  Isabelle stared at him, a thousand emotions running through her at seeing him. She’d started to think he was gone forever, yet here he was. The man was mysterious and peculiar, but Isabelle trusted him. He’d saved her life on more than one occasion.

  “Silvan,” Isabelle hissed, breaking the silence. “What are you doing here?” A tremor ran down her spine, whether from happiness at seeing him or anxiety about the Hunters finding him, she couldn’t tell. Maybe both.

  “To assist you, of course,” Silvan replied. He held out an arm, pale hand extended to her. “Are you ready? We should leave before the others wake.”

  “What are you talking about?” Isabelle asked. She spoke in a hushed voice, glancing nervously over her shoulder. The fog still hung over the camp like a veil. No movement could be seen. “I’m a Fabled Hunter now. I don’t need anyone’s assistance.” She hesitated, remembering Tyro’s words. “I can’t leave.”

  Silvan’s face was unreadable. “So you don’t need any help saving Jack?”

  Isabelle stared at him, her heartbeat quickening. “What do you mean?”

  Silvan jerked his chin toward camp. “I know what Tyro plans to do. He will kill Jack at the first opportunity.”

  Isabelle walked closer until she stood only a couple of feet from him. “Do you know what’s wrong with Jack?”

  Silvan nodded. “He’s cursed.”

  Isabelle stared at him a moment before sputtering, “Cursed? What do you mean, cursed?” She was close enough to see Silvan roll his eyes. She frowned.

  “What other reason could explain his ability to shoot frost from his fingertips and swathe entire cities in endless winter?” Silvan’s voice held a hint of exasperation. “He’s clearly cursed.”

  “How could this happen?” Isabelle felt sick.

  “Isabelle?” Tyro’s voice rang out in the night.

  Isabelle spun around, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her gaze locked on the man standing several yards farther down the slope. Aviina stood next to him.

  Tyro’s face was impossible to read this far away, but there was no mistaking the displeasure in his voice. “What are you doing? Who is this?”

  “I . . . he’s . . .” Isabelle trailed off, fighting down the sickening fear she felt at Tyro finding her with Silvan. She instinctively tried to move in front of Silvan, hoping to hide his face, but he was taller than her.

  Tyro’s voiced hissed with a sharp intake of breath. “The demon!” He unsheathed his sword, holding it ready in one hand. “Quick, Isabelle, move, before he kills you!”

  “What? No. He won’t hurt me. Tyro, please,” Isabelle pleaded. “Silvan, you need to explain.” She looked over her shoulder at the man.

  Silvan reached out and took her by the hand, pulling her to him. “Isabelle, I can help you save him,” he said.

  “Tyro, please listen to me.” Isabelle twisted around to face the Hunter, putting her hands out in a placating manner. “Silvan didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m sure this can be resolved peacefully.”

  “You know this demon?” Incredulity and anger filled Tyro’s voice as he put the pieces together. His voice grew quiet, dangerous. “Isabelle, were you the one who freed him from the shadowhold?”

  Isabelle’s silence was all he needed to know the answer. He advanced. “You’re a traitor, Isabelle. Aviina, disarm her.”

  Aviina had drawn her sword and held it ready, gaze pinned on Isabelle. Isabelle knew that if it came to blows, Aviina wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. Had they really had a friendship, or had it been conditioned on Isabelle’s willing obedience?

  The two Hunters advanced cautiously.

  Silvan still held her hand. The wind was stronger on the cliffs and his silver hair whipped around his face. “Isabelle. Do you trust me?”

  “What?” She turned to look into his blue eyes and was startled to see unshed tears in them.

  “Do you trust me?”

  It was a funny question. Silvan had never hurt her, had protected her, and had given her the confidence to pursue her dream, even when most others had not believed in her. “Of course.” She placed a hand on his chest. “I trust you.”

  Silvan crushed her to his chest in a strong embrace and, still holding her tight, threw himself off the cliff.

  Isabelle screamed. Or tried to. Between Silvan’s arms holding her fast like iron bands, and the roar of the wind as they fell, she couldn’t breathe.

  The ground rose up to meet them with startling speed, and Silvan . . . shifted. His arms grew longer, scales covering them, hooked claws sprouting on his fingers. His neck grew long and sinewy. Great bat-like wings burst from his back, long and silver. His face contorted and changed into a scaled face with snapping jaws and long fangs.

  Silvan roared and beat his great wings, catapulting them upward, Isabelle still in his grasp.

  The ground, cliffs, Tyro and Aviina dropped away as Silvan and Isabelle soared up into the sky, into the heavens.

  Silvan was a dragon.

  10

  A dragon. Isabelle couldn’t believe it, yet here she was, locked in the creature’s embrace as he flew across the countryside beating his massive wings. Silvan.

  But was it really Silvan? Isabelle twisted her body, craning her neck to get a better look at the beast who carried her. The creature’s face was swathed in shadow, high above her, but whoever or whatever he was, this was definitely a dragon. She’d seen a few pictures and read enough stories to know.

  The air was freezing this high up, and Isabelle’s eyes watered from the wind. Glancing up above her, she could see the stars flooding the sky in their splendor. Countless stars.

  Silvan dipped his neck, and they flew lower. In the pale light of the moon, Isabelle could see the Province road, encased in ice, gleaming slightly. It was astounding to see how much damage one man was capable of. Sometimes the trail was narrow, as if the ice simply formed where he’d walked, usually on the road. But sometimes there would be enormous stretche
s of ice and frost that covered entire farms, the cold damaging the harvest that was to feed all Four Provinces this coming winter. Jack couldn’t have struck at a worse time.

  Isabelle watched the trail silently, her mind numbed from the worry and stress she’d endured in the past two days. She jolted in surprise when the dragon sped toward the ground and she gasped, closing her eyes.

  With a thud, the beast landed on his hind legs and gently set Isabelle down.

  Staggering, Isabelle fought to regain her footing, momentarily disoriented. She spun around, looking at the beast.

  He was huge, a massive, muscular beast who, even on all four legs, towered over her. His scales glittered silver in the moonlight. He’d folded his leathery wings against himself and bent his neck down to look at her. He had a long snout and when he snuffled, wisps of smoke drifted from his nostrils. He regarded her solemnly with large blue eyes.

  Blue. It was Silvan. Isabelle reached out, fingertips touching his nose. “You’re beautiful.”

  The dragon recoiled and stumbled away from her, wings flaring out to either side to catch his balance.

  Isabelle flinched, raising a hand instinctively to protect herself, but he was already changing, limbs and body shrinking, scales disappearing, until he was a man, still wearing his garb of black boots and trousers and a loose white shirt, partially untucked at the belt. It was all achingly familiar but eerie and strange at the same time.

  She stared at him, heart pounding. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “I am who I’ve always been,” Silvan said sadly. He lifted his arms tentatively and Isabelle rushed into them. A moment later she felt his arms wrap around her slowly, as if he were hesitant to do so.

  Isabelle closed her eyes, pressing her face against his strong chest. She felt warm, safe. He smelled like ashes and rain. Like Silvan.

  The man tightened his embrace, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head, and Isabelle stifled a sob. “I’ve missed you,” she choked. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of how much until now.

  “It’s all right, Isabelle,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

  “Why did you leave?” Isabelle asked, her voice muffled against his chest. “Why did you go?” She felt a lump in her throat. She was perilously close to crying.

  “I never left you,” Silvan said softly. “I withdrew to help you become stronger on your own. But I didn’t leave you.”

  He trembled, and Isabelle pulled away to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  Silvan shook his head, exhaling heavily. “I need to rest.”

  He dropped wearily to the ground. “It’s always a struggle to fight my—” He stopped what he’d been going to say, then continued. “I’m just tired. A couple hours of sleep and I’ll be fine.”

  Isabelle sat beside him, gently running her fingers through his silver hair. He was asleep within moments. Rummaging through her pack, she pulled out her red cloak, laying it over him. The air carried a chill—ever since she’d crossed paths with Jack.

  She glanced over to her left where she could see Jack’s icy trail. She stood slowly so as not to wake Silvan, and turned in a slow circle, looking in every direction, making sure she and Silvan were truly alone. What was Jack going to do when he reached the city? Isabelle chewed her lip as she peered anxiously into the gloom. What else had he said? He’d found someone. A woman. Who? Isabelle felt a tendril of jealousy and mentally stomped on it. She should be happy if Jack found someone he cared about. But she wasn’t.

  She chuckled dryly at her thoughts. Of course, he didn’t care for her anymore. She knew that. She herself had chosen life as a Fabled Hunter over a life with him. So why did she still hurt?

  Tyro. Isabelle shuddered as her thoughts turned to the tall Hunter. She might not have much of a future as a Hunter after all. Tyro was furious with her. He’d called her a traitor, and Isabelle was very aware of how the Hunter dealt with traitors. He could be hunting her right now instead of Jack. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. The thought terrified her. If he’d decided to switch quarry, he wouldn’t stop until he’d caught her. But she didn’t want him to hunt Jack, either. She didn’t know what she wanted.

  Exhaling heavily, she sat again, laying down next to Silvan. She thought briefly about staying up to keep watch—she didn’t want Tyro and Aviina to catch them unaware—but discarded the idea. The Fabled Hunters were miles behind them. Besides, if she was with Silvan, she was safe.

  11

  Isabelle woke at dawn, the twitter of birds filling the air. She opened her eyes and yawned, still tired. She closed her eyes again, drifting back to sleep.

  Silvan’s a dragon.

  Her eyes snapped open. She shifted, about to sit up, and froze.

  Silvan slept at her back, his body curved protectively around hers, arms loosely wrapped around her waist. Isabelle’s skin prickled, suddenly very aware of the man’s nearness. His scent, his breath on her neck, the weight of his hands on her waist.

  It wasn’t proper at all, and Isabelle wasn’t sure she cared. It’d be rude to move, she thought to herself. Anyway, he’s still asleep. He needs his rest.

  “I’m not sleeping.”

  Isabelle gasped with shock and scrambled to her feet, away from Silvan.

  Silvan laughed. “Am I that repulsive?”

  Heat rushed to Isabelle’s face. “No, it’s not that, it’s just . . .” She put her hands on her hips and scowled at Silvan, who was grinning ear to ear. “Why’d you sleep that close? That was highly inappropriate.”

  Silvan shrugged. “When I woke last night I saw you were shivering, so I thought I’d keep you warm.”

  “You’re a dragon,” Isabelle countered. “You could’ve made fire easily enough.”

  Silvan’s smile melted away. “Bad things usually happen when I’m a dragon.”

  Isabelle considered his words, shifting uneasily. “Silvan . . . are you cursed?”

  Silvan stood, brushing the dirt off his trousers. “Yes.” He paused a moment, his face troubled. “Shifting tends to bring out . . . the darkness in me.”

  “What kind of darkness?” Isabelle asked. She remembered the night Silvan had killed six men, his eyes red. She repressed a shudder.

  Silvan raised an eyebrow. “I’d be more inclined to answer if you will. What kind of darkness lurks in you, Isabelle?”

  Isabelle nodded, feeling uncomfortable. “Sorry, I guess that’s not a fair question.” She picked up her bow and quiver, uncomfortable at the intensity his gaze carried. “So, you’re a real dragon?”

  “No, I’m human.” Silvan took her pack and slung it over his own shoulder. “But I can shift. It’s my Gift.” He laughed humorlessly. “Until it became my curse.” He immediately changed the subject. “Have you decided what you’re going to do about Jack?”

  “No,” Isabelle said. A cold wave of misery washed over her. “I don’t know why he’s doing this, or how.” She stopped, remembering what Silvan told her the night before. “You think he’s cursed? He doesn’t seem to mind the change.”

  “He’s cursed, all right,” Silvan replied. The sky had lightened considerably. He motioned to the north. “Shall we go? You’ll want to catch Jack before your friends do.”

  Isabelle followed him. “How can you tell he’s cursed?”

  “I can sense it,” Silvan replied. “The same person who cursed him cursed me.”

  “Who is that?” Isabelle asked.

  “Glacia.” Silvan spoke the name like a curse.

  The name sounded cold. Isabelle shivered involuntarily. “Is her magic quite bad, then?”

  “Very bad,” Silvan replied, his expression grim. “Just about the worst kind there is, really.” He noticed Isabelle’s worried frown and his expression softened. “Don’t worry. His curse isn’t as strong as mine.”

  “What do you mean?” Isabelle asked, a tendril of hope curling around her heart. Jack could be saved.

  Silvan’s voice turned bitter. “Jack’s curse can
be broken.”

  The implication of his words hit her like a hammer. “Silvan—”

  “If you don’t want Jack to be hunted down and killed like an animal,” the silver-haired man interrupted, “then we’ll have to find him first.” He gestured off toward the wide expanse of the country before them that was the South Province.

  “He’s going to Illyminatym,” Isabelle said, watching Silvan closely. “I don’t know why. He said . . .” She frowned, trying to remember. “He said the time of the king and his Hunters is over.”

  “Well, he’s not one for mincing words, I’ll give him that.” He began to walk in a northwest direction, Isabelle’s pack still over his shoulder. “Tyro is almost certainly going to catch up to us within a day or two. Since he and the other Hunters have horses, he’s also going to get to Illyminatym before us if we take the roads. So we’re going to go off the paths. More dangerous, but faster, even on foot.”

  Isabelle hurried to catch up to him, taking two steps for every one of his. She really wanted to procrastinate her meeting with Tyro, so going off road sounded wonderful. “What am I supposed to do when I get there?”

  “I have no idea,” Silvan admitted. “I suspect freeing Jack from his curse would be a good start.” He glanced at her with a small smile. “If anyone can help him break it, it’s you. But we’d better hurry.” Silvan quickened his pace and Isabelle spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep pace with his long strides.

  Ash caught up to them late that evening, her sides heaving. She collapsed at Isabelle’s feet with an exhausted whine.

  “Ash!” Isabelle knelt down, hugging the wolf. “You found me.”

  Panting, Ash managed a tired grin. Isabelle took her rucksack from Silvan and pulled out her small water skin, pouring some in a tin bowl for Ash. The wolf lapped it up greedily, tail wagging gratefully.

  “I wonder how she found us,” Isabelle remarked, putting the water skin away. “I don’t know how she could have tracked our scent while we were flying.”