CHAPTER 29: CHAPTER 29 - THE HUNT DETAILS

Morena narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brows as she looked at the man. Not only was his question one that could easily be taken as offensive, but it wasn’t information he, as an outsider, should have access to.

’A leak.’

It was clear there was someone inside the family who had leaked information, and it had to be someone with access to very limited information. It very well might be someone from the council itself.

Morena loosened her shoulders.

"They have opinions, they always do."

She replied, not indulging the man any more than that.

"That’s not an answer."

He said, amused.

"It’s all you deserve."

She replied, and a few of the table’s edges laughed, others gave a nervous smile at the tension.

Plates shifted and soon new dishes arrived—thin-sliced venison under a sour berry sauce, small baked fishes, a stew thick with wild mushrooms and barley. The wine decanted darker now, spiced.

"Speaking of heirs..."

Ren—the lanky boy—quickly interjected to smooth over the awkwardness, leaned in toward Alina, grinning as if he’d just discovered a plot.

"Is Cedric still trying to charm you into a walk under the torches?"

Alina rolled her eyes.

"He flirts with anything that stands still long enough to hear him."

Ren pressed a hand to his chest.

"Cruel, but fair."

"Cruel would be letting him try. He’d trip over his own cleverness."

Morena hid her smile in her cup. Cedric, for his part, wasn’t all that bad. He was somewhat foolish, talked much too much, but he wasn’t as bad as others at this table. He had the arrogance of a noble born—bright and careless, but not stupid.

The conversation slid again, now to the royal family more directly.

"The Queen’s brother returned to the capital last week."

Someone murmured.

"Quietly."

"Quietly?"

The boy from before echoed.

"Did he ever do anything quietly? He drinks as if he invented the sea."

"This time, he came with two dozen men and no banners. Remember when he suddenly disappeared? They said he went to the neighboring Empire."

The first persisted.

"I think something’s brewing."

"Those Lunatics? Aren’t they heretics or something? That’s what the church says."

The braided girl asked. Since she wasn’t from the central area of the Kingdom and rarely interacted with the Empire, she wasn’t clear about them, only hearing rumors.

"Rumor has it, they’re the descendants of demons. Because of that, they have all sorts of odd and unnatural disgusting capabilities. But I’ve never seen them myself."

Morena was interested in the Empire, but none of the books she had read mentioned it in detail. Most were vague: how they were the enemy, how they were terrible—a bunch of propaganda, really.

Nothing concrete, so she was very curious.

"Does it really matter? All we have to do is bow to whoever rules all the same."

Fox-pin said.

"I do an excellent bow. It involves my back surviving another decade."

"Cynic."

Elira scolded, though there was a smile in it.

"Realist."

"Enough."

A woman farther down declared, brightening her tone by force.

"We’ll all be dreaming of knives if we keep at this. Earl Duran—tell us you’ve snared something larger than gossip for us to chase."

The Earl sat up as soon as the question was posed, glancing at the people who sat at the table. He wiped his hands, grinned, and let his voice bellow up to the rafters.

"You can barely sit still. Fine. I’ll spill what should have waited for dawn."

The man said with a hearty laugh.

The table settled. Even the servants paused.

"This year, we’ve loosed horned deer in the lower wood—quick, mean, sharp enough to lay a man open if you get too chummy with them. We’ve scattered boar for those who like their hunts short and bloody."

A few cheers; Ren pumped a fist. Duran raised a hand, palm down, and the room dipped quiet again.

"And the best part of all..."

He added, mouth curving into a smile.

"We’ve brought in two packs of direwolves."

The word thudded across platters like a dropped hammer.

"Direwolves?"

Ren breathed, half prayer, half curse.

"Aren’t they dangerous? Even a Rank 1 warrior would struggle."

Someone else chimed in.

Morena didn’t need to think too deeply to know what they were referring to; she knew of direwolves, even before her two minds fused, the Morena of the past knew of them.

The tales of how dangerous they were, the stories of how a pack of direwolves could easily tear apart Rank 1 warriors. They were a warning to wild adventurers and a threat to lonely villages.

"You’re right, they do hunt together. But don’t worry, this is to test you, so you can show your strength, not to kill you; we’ve only released young ones, no older than a year. You wanted something worth telling your grandchildren? There it is."

"What about other animals in the forest? You couldn’t have possibly cleared the entire thing, could you?"

Morena was the one to pose the question; after all, this was her first hunt, and she didn’t want anything going wrong.

"No."

Duran agreed.

"That’s why we draw a line on the map and tell you not to cross it. Everything beyond that is still wild; however, before that, we have taken care of it. I want stories, not funerals."

Morena nodded, then glanced at the faces of others. Fear, thrill, worry—honest things. She felt her own blood answer, slow and steady. Wolves. It was a challenge, but it wasn’t one she couldn’t overcome, and honestly, she really wanted to test her capabilities in full.

"How will the points be tallied?"

Someone shouted, remembering the point system from last year.

Duran grinned.

"Points for pelts, points for antlers, points for fangs and claws, points for who you bring back breathing. Extra points if the direwolf is bigger than Cedric’s pride."

Cedric bowed from his chair, accepting the jeers with a flourish.

Elira lifted her cup.

"To no funerals!"

"To no funerals!"

The table echoed, relief disguising itself as humor.

Plates shifted again. Conversation loosened back into smaller knots, eddies settling after the tide.

A girl at Morena’s left leaned in, voice pitched low.

"Is it true what they say? That your core was... difficult?"

Morena set her knife down, turned her head enough to make the girl feel seen without letting the question root; her quick reaction caused the girl to jolt back in surprise.

"It was, but I got over it. Now I’m here."

The girl blinked, then nodded.

"Fair."

Fox-pin slid the conversation back toward safer banks.

"Direwolves in the wood."

He said with amusement.

"This is the first time I’ll be fighting one, but if I were a wolf, I’d run the ridge near the stream, then circle and push toward the old mill."

"Which is why you’ll find five parties at the mill."

Alina said, amused.

"The wolves are just bait, a waste of time. I’m taking the north slope. Less company and hunting the easier things."

"Of course I’ll join you, we’re a party, right?"

Ren said cheerfully.

"I hate idiots with crossbows."

She joked, but she didn’t deny his question.

"What about you, sister? Will you join me?"

Alina turned to face Morena, who thought for only a second.

"How could I do that if I intend to win? Plus, I just might hunt a wolf."

Her sister was surprised, but she didn’t say anything just yet; too many people around.

Cedric’s laugh drifted down the table.

"I’ll take the stream too."

He declared.

"If five parties go, I’ll take six. Better odds something runs toward me—beast or tale."

"You’ll get a tale, at least."

Elira said, rolling her eyes.

Morena ate, listened, and measured. Conversations flowed as naturally as the food left the table; wine slipping away from their glasses, until the moon was high in the sky and the night grew tiring.

Cedric rose with a toast about sleep and dawn, and laughter reclaimed the gaps. Duran clapped the back of a chair, declared the kitchen would send sweets to anyone too nervous to rest, and the hall began to empty in cheerful swirls.

Most people were on their way back to their places to rest. After all, they had an early day tomorrow.

As they stood, Elira approached the sisters, her eyes glancing at Morena for a moment before speaking to them both.

"I’m glad you came. Whatever the hunt brings, it’s better when the field isn’t the same faces as last year."

Morena inclined her head.

"And better when the faces return uninjured after it."

Elira smiled.

"Tomorrow, then."

Cedric bowed again—less flourish this time, more thought.

"Try not to shame me too badly, Lady Alina."

He teased, then glanced at Morena.

"And you—I look forward to seeing the might of the great Lady Morena, firstborn of the Iron Wall."

Morena’s mouth rose to a small smile, and she replied.

"You will do much more than see."

She said and stepped away before he could decide if that was flirtation or a threat. It was a threat.

They walked back through the brazier-lit corridors toward the carriages, the chill cleaner than the hall’s warmth. Alina blew out a long breath, exhilaration running under her skin like wine.

Morena drew her cloak tighter. Above them, the banners stirred.

Tomorrow would not be decorum and glass, but a battle.