Page 5 of The Dead Queen

“Hunter?” I ask, the name catching in my throat. All chaos seems to fade into the background for a moment. I’m suddenly acutely aware of how disgusting I am. My cloak, once a deep forest green, is splattered with days-worth of mud. The pungent mix of horse and sweat make me smell no better than the pigs in the sty just outside the stables.

Hunter surprises me by lifting me up into an enormous hug, spinning me quite literally off my feet.

“You’re crushing me!” I laugh.

He sets me down, but keeps his hands on my waist. “Sienna. Sienna. Sienna.” He won’t stop grinning. It’s a handsome grin, I’ll give him that.

“I hardly recognized you,” I lie. Gone is the gawky boy who used to hide away with me in the library. This man is two feet taller and at least twice as broad. His windswept hair glints like gold in the sunlight, but I’d recognize those warm, brown eyes anywhere.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” he says, joking. His voice is deeper than I remember, more man than boy now.

My eyes drift down to the armor. The last time I saw him, he refused to join his father in the King’s Guard, now he’s dressed head to toe in copper.

I raise an eyebrow. “So …?”

“It’s different.”

“That’s an understatement.” I bite my lip, not sure if too much time has passed for me to ask all the questions flooding my brain right now.

He grimaces. “You’re wondering what the hell happened to me.”

I nod. “You could say that.”

Hunter shrugs, causing his armor to clang slightly.

“It’s just,” I start. “Your father …”

“He won,” he says, with only a touch of bitterness. “In the end, he always gets his way.”

I really could have guessed as much, from the look of him, but it hurts to hear all the same.

“Fathers tend to have that effect on people,” I say.

He nods.

I remember when we used to hide in the royal library to escape our fathers. Given that I’m the one who ran away, I have no right to feel a pang of nostalgia for our youth, but I do. We’d spend days hiding in the darkest aisles with only the glow of our own light to read by. I’d lose myself in the histories of Llwyn, reading about my ancestors who ruled with immense strength and power. Power that has since diluted in our bloodline, much to my father’s disappointment.

Hunter always preferred stories with dashing knights saving lovely damsels, but he never thought he could be one. His father, Commander Malen, was one of my father’s most trusted advisors. Still is, I assume. He was always the fastest, the strongest, the smartest man in any room.

He never let Hunter live it down that he, well, wasn’t.

A blush creeps up Hunter’s neck, staining his cheeks pink. “It’s ... after you left, I ...” Hunter’s voice falters, and for a moment, I see a flicker of the boy I knew—uncertain, abashed.

Suddenly, I’m confronted with all the damage I left behind. All the hurt I must’ve caused him is just below the shiny surface. The air feels thick, charged with unspoken accusations and apologies. We stand there, two strangers wearing the faces of old friends, not entirely sure how we ended up here.

“It’s ok. I’m here now.” I put my hand on his tall shoulder. “You can tell me all about it when the time is right.”

His smile returns. I forgot how much I missed that good-natured grin. As different as Hunter may be from the boy I remember before I left, that, at least, is the same.

Hunter nods toward the palace door. “Are you ready?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

“Am I being summoned already?”

He gives me a knowing look.

Behind us, a horse whinnies and kicks a stall door. I flinch. The sound makes me think of the corpse wolves, of Nell’s final shrieks echoing through the darkened woods, and of the horrible news I have to deliver to my father.

I sigh, resigned. “I’m glad he sent you to drag me to his chambers instead of one of his thugs.”