I glance over to where Maddox sits on his own stairs, tucking into a pot like the one in Leah’s hand. When he catches me looking, he throws his hand up in salute.

After the long night, I am very hungry and the thought of eating more jerky when that is all we will have for the foreseeable future does not sound enticing.

“Thank you.” I accept the pot.

She kisses my cheek once more and then strolls away, her dark hair swaying in time with her steps.

What a strange morning.

* * *

The strangeness continues. While I pack my saddle bags with supplies, I can feel eyes on me. When I turn to look, I catch the females washing garments in the center of camp staring. Maddox teases me as we ride out of camp, claiming that the soap he made is the reason for all the unwanted attention.

I am not so sure but decide to stop using the soap for the duration of our hunt, just in case.

“Did your Seelie fae mention your scent?” he asks as his steed trots next to Nyx.

What is it with his infernal questions? He needs to find his own Seelie and ask her instead of bothering me. “She did not.”

The fool grins. “The ticking in your jaw tells me otherwise. Perhaps she will like my scent better.”

Perhaps I will make a new necklace with his bones. “You will not get close enough for her to smell you.”

“We will see.”

No, we most certainly will not. If he even thinks about walking within sniffing distance of my Seelie, I will make good on my threats to toss him into the canyon. Let him fall like those rocks he loves to throw.

Thinking of Kerris brings back the same emotions I felt when we parted last night. Longing. Desire. Sadness. Confusion.

So much confusion.

“She asked me to the Seelie festival,” I confess in a low whisper.

Maddox sits a little taller as he steers his mount even closer, his eyes wide as a rabbit’s when it sees a fox. “Just you or everyone?”

“Me. But I will not go on my own.” There is much danger in Rosehill for one lone Unseelie fae. Not that I would have difficulty handling myself against even their finest guards, but the ramifications for our people if a fight were to break out could be disastrous.

“Then I will accompany you,” he says with a brusque nod. “And so will Gryff.”

There is no telling how long this hunt will take, but I find myself hoping that we will return to camp in time to witness the festivities.

“Everett Gathin!” our chieftain calls from a short distance ahead.

He will not join our hunt but has chosen to accompany us to the border of our territory.