White Stag Read online

  “What do you want?” Soren’s hand caught mine as I stroked the bow. I didn’t realize I’d been speaking aloud.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “You know that’s a lie.”

  I tore my hand from his grip, the skin where he touched me burning. “I can fight it,” I said. “This plot you have to make me change into your species, I can fight it, I will fight it.”

  Those purple eyes looked so sad. I wished I believed they were. “Then you’ll die; a human can’t survive the Hunt. It’s not possible. But, I don’t think you’re going to die. I also think death isn’t something you fear.”

  No. I wasn’t going to die. I was going to escape.

  He strode across the bedchamber and threw open the heavy double doors that led to the rest of the palace. “I expect you outside, fully equipped, in an hour.” He paused in the middle of the doorway. “Please don’t fight this, Janneka. I told you, this is because I care.”

  The doors swung shut, leaving me alone in the cold room.

  “Janneke,” I said to the icy air. “My name is Janneke.”

  The child who long ago wished for the feminine name was now dead.

  * * *

  I WALKED OUT into the courtyard with the bracers on my arms, the axe brushing against my hips, the gloves caressing my hands, and the bow and quiver slung across my back. The bent iron nail fit snugly into the pocket of the bracers.

  Chaos erupted.

  Murmurs, then shouts of outrage, taunts and snarls and animal yowls assaulted my ears. I kept my back straight as I walked through the courtyard, seeing Soren in the distance. I frowned. He was talking to Elvira. Helka stood beside her, along with another she-goblin I didn’t know.

  A young lordling, sensing my distraction, came up to me, sneering. But as he lunged—fangs growing and features sharpening from deathly beautiful to wolfish, ugly, and cruel—I had my bow out and arrow notched. It pierced his chest without a moment’s hesitation. The whoosh of power swept out of him, hung in the air, and hit me with its might. The intensity stung my skin, but I kept a grip on the bow, knowing I’d need it still. The power assaulted me again, trying to find a place to seep in, until it lingered on my skin like a covering of invisible dust and slowly sank into my pores with a burning agony worse than I’d ever felt before. It hurt even more realizing that since I absorbed power, I was tiptoeing the fine line between humanity and monstrosity.

  I yanked the arrow out of the dead goblin and wiped the blood off with my tunic. “Would anyone else care to try?” I turned to the rest of the spectators.

  The shouts quieted to whispers and the glares turned to side-eyes as I came up to Soren. He had two horses saddled and ready. I recognized his, a black stallion named Terror. But another, younger stallion with a cream-colored flank and a dark mane pawed the ground beside him. There were two other horses as well, black as Terror was, and beside them, a great snow cat. The cat was as big as the horses, its black hide rippling with muscles, its claws permanently unsheathed. Its tail twitched back and forth as it took me in, probably wondering if I was worth killing. I snarled at it, and it looked away.

  I stopped in front of Soren, dipping my head in greeting. His lips twitched as he looked me over, but the scowl remained on his face. Finally, something natural. He was smiling too much for my tastes lately.

  “Janneke,” he said, motioning to Elvira, Helka, and the other goblin. Elvira’s dark hair was pulled back into similar braids as mine, although golden strands were woven through it like vines. Her sword lay sheathed across her back, her stance easy and relaxed. The power coming off her hit me like a crashing wave. Helka smirked at me, her flaming hair loose around her shoulders, making the red in her eyes seem like embers in a fire. I narrowed my eyes at her. I heard what you said last night. I hope you know that. Both were near Soren’s age, maybe a few centuries or a millennia older, but the third one had the look of a goblin newly grown into her power. She had on a black cloak and her raven-colored hair spilled around her like an angel’s wings. Her golden eyes were eager as they latched onto me and seemed to glow against her copper skin.

  “You know Elvira and Helka,” Soren said. “The young one is Rekke. She’s Elvira’s niece.”

  Rekke snarled at Soren. “I am not young.”

  “Of course, you aren’t,” Soren said, brushing her aside. He took my hand and led me to the cream-colored horse. “I figured you needed a horse to ride. This is my last present. Name him what you will, and when you do, make sure he’s bound to it.”

  I looked at the young stallion, and he snorted at me, pawing the ground. The look of a trapped animal, one I knew well, was on his face. I put a hand on his flank and stroked the soft hair.

  “Panic you are, from this day ’til your last. Be you bound to this name and this call. Panic, running quick as thunder, fierce as lightning’s flash, Panic, now you be mine.” I’d never heard the words to name and bind an animal before, but they came to me as easily as if I’d always known them. A trickle of fear went down my spine. That shouldn’t be possible. It couldn’t be possible. But it was.

  The newly named Panic nickered and nibbled my shoulder affectionately. I stroked his mane, watching as he let his hoof rest on the ground, finally at ease. The gaze of the other goblins burned into the back of my neck as I tried to calm myself.

  I caught Elvira’s dark gaze and forced myself to hold it. “Yes?”

  She smiled a vicious and beautiful smile. “Color me surprised. I thought Soren was exaggerating about you.”

  “I don’t exaggerate,” Soren said. He clasped his hands together, his gloved fingers entwining. “Shall we ride?”

  Elvira nodded and mounted her cat without a moment’s hesitation. Her little niece, still glaring at Soren, and Helka mounted their steeds.

  I ran my hand across Panic’s flank once more before climbing into the saddle. The reins felt right in my hands, the saddle perfect against my bottom. The thrill of the Hunt started coursing through my veins. The power of the kill was still buzzing in my head. It took all my willpower to shut it down.

  Soren pulled up beside me, watching as Elvira and her girls took the lead. “You know why I allied with them?” he asked.

  “To stop Franz and Lydian from doing so,” I said. “You must’ve gleaned that much from my sleep talk.”

  He nodded. “Elvira and Helka are skilled hunters. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be able to compete.”

  I looked around the courtyard. Many lordlings had already set off to hunt, but many still remained. Some of them might not even bother; the ones with lower power would find it hard to survive, much less fare well.

  “Lydian hasn’t left yet,” I said, catching a glimpse of his entourage. “He’s probably trying to find another alliance.”

  “Probably.” Soren nudged his horse forward, and I followed. “This is the beginning of everything,” he said. “For you.”

  I was silent, forcing down the excitement again. No, “excitement” wasn’t the word. “Drive” was. A prey drive, just like every predator. I swallowed my fear. I would get out of here before he took anything else, even if I had to vow it on the ashes of everything I loved.

  Panic gave a nervous whinny, and suddenly I knew my thoughts were not solely my own because our minds were now linked through a bond similar to the one I shared with Soren. I stroked his flank again. “You and I are one and the same.”

  Soren’s lips twitched again. “Bonded animals can feel our thoughts. Does he feel your excitement? Your drive?”

  No, but he feels something else. We will escape, he and I. “Yes.”

  Soren looked ahead to where Elvira and the others waited. “Then let’s go. We have a stag to hunt.”

  “We do,” I said. And the sooner it leaves the Permafrost, the better. I was about to kick Panic into a canter, but Soren laid a hand on my shoulder. Goose pimples rose on my flesh as warmth seeped into my skin.

  “Watch Rekke for me,” he said. “I don’t trust her
.”

  “I don’t trust any of them.” I gazed at the dwindling figures of the three female goblins.

  He inclined his head in agreement. “Yes, but I know Elvira and Helka. I don’t know Rekke. And neither do you. So, keep your eyes sharp.”

  “This isn’t my first hunting trip.”

  Soren narrowed his eyes. “It’s the first one where you’re not just hunting an animal. Never forget that. We’re allied with them now, but that will break sooner or later, and when it does, it will be because someone has a knife in their back. I’d rather it not be you.” With those words, he kicked Terror into a canter and charged forward.

  Panic pawed at the ground again, shaking his mane out. I scratched his ears, letting my thoughts pour into his. Fear, anticipation, wariness, determination. Pictures formed in my head of where he’d been before, a pasture somewhere far away, where the grass was as green as emeralds.

  “You’re right,” I said to him. We’re escaping. His head bobbed. I took a deep breath, felt for the nail in my bracer, and followed Soren out of the courtyard.

  The Hunt had begun.

  5

  HUNTING

  WE RODE AT a breakneck speed through the Permafrost with a silver, glowing line across the ground as our trail. Beyond it, more lines connected and splayed like fine thread through the tundra, but the silver line was the one that mattered. The stag’s path brilliantly lit up the ground like a trail of sunlight.

  Each being had their own power and the stag was no different. Now that I’d absorbed the power of the young lordling I killed, the traces of power all around me were clearer than ever. It floated in the air like mist and gathered around every creature great and small like clouds in every color imaginable. It made the chilly silence of the Permafrost explode into life in ways that never were possible before. It also proved true Soren’s statements about me changing. Humans weren’t built to absorb the power of the prey they killed; that was strictly a goblin ability.

  Racing through the cold, crisp air under the pale yellow sun was invigorating after being inside the palace so long. Though the trees surrounding me were skeletal, and frost covered the dead grass and crumpled leaves, there was life everywhere, and the horses’ pounding hooves could’ve been the beating of an ancient heart.

  Joy filled me through my connection with Panic; he was relishing the feel of the forest underneath his hooves. To run, to be wild, to be free, was all he wanted.

  But we weren’t free yet. Not really.

  The horse felt my doubt but shook off the thought. Thundering across the tundra, for him, was enough. Of course, having an animal as an escape accomplice wasn’t the most ideal situation. I pushed down the doubt. I didn’t need any more to fill my heart; I’d already gorged on it. If I thought about it too hard, I would think of the courtroom and the young lordling and the power buzzing at my fingertips. I couldn’t have that. Escaping these creatures meant I couldn’t let my guard down, couldn’t doubt anything for a moment.

  When we stopped for the day, we were still deep in the Permafrost, the icy air turning the water in our breath to frost before our eyes. The coldness filled me up as I breathed in, and it burned deep in my chest like a flickering fire.

  I climbed down from Panic. He looked around, pawing at the icy ground for something to graze and settled for the patches of dry, rough weeds that dotted the earth. I dropped the rope, somehow knowing he wouldn’t leave me if I did. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Soren had done the same with Terror, as did Rekke and Helka with their horses. I cast a suspicious glance at Elvira’s menacing snow cat, thankful to see that at least it was tied to a tree. It was a predator after all. It might not eat Elvira or us due to their bond, but there was nothing that would keep it from eating the horses.

  A gloved hand landed uninvited on my shoulder and I turned to knock it off, all of the ease I gained during the ride draining out of me. “Did you have a nice ride?” Soren asked.

  “I don’t think you care to hear my genuine answer.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t like it?”

  I chewed my lip. “I was liking it a lot more when you weren’t talking to me.”

  A growl rumbled in Soren’s throat as he frowned, but before he could say something, Elvira spoke up. “Does this seem like a good place to camp for the night?”

  Soren waved his hand indifferently. “It’ll do.” He realigned his body to address her, but his eyes were still burning into my forehead. I made it a point to turn my back to him. “We should also take turns keeping watch.”

  “You don’t trust us?” Helka purred.

  “No,” Soren said flatly.

  Rather than be offended, Elvira laughed. The hair rose on the back of my neck; her laugh sounded like shrill, tinkling bells, and there was an air of falseness to it even a child could pick up. She flicked her finger at me. “You, thrall, go hunt. You go with her, Rekke.”

  I bristled, hand touching the butt of my axe, my mouth opened with a stinging retort—how dare she order me around. She didn’t own me. But Soren got to her first. “Don’t call her that,” he snapped. “You’ve no claim to.” His unspoken words lingered in the air. We’re not doing things the way you want to. As far as I knew, Elvira was older than Soren by a few thousand years, and with goblins, that meant a world of difference when it came to how they treated humans and thralls in general.

  Younger goblins like Soren had a sense of social fluidity and understood they needed thralls in good, hale conditions to do the things they couldn’t and uphold a lifestyle. Whereas older goblins simply viewed humans in their service as inferior beings. I leveled my gaze at Elvira. “I don’t take orders from you.” Elvira could rip me to shreds easily enough if she wanted to, but I was determined not to let her frighten me. “What do you want me to do, Soren?” Anger burned as the words left my mouth. But I caught Soren’s calm lilac eyes and they told me that it wasn’t worth the battle.

  “Go hunting, Janneke.”

  I gave a brisk nod and motioned to Rekke. The young she-goblin’s eyes were dull, and she glowered at her older relatives before grudgingly stalking over to her horse. My own bow was already slung over my back and everyone else wore their weapons, but Rekke’s bow was attached to her saddlebags with complicated straps. It was stupid and sloppy and would probably get her killed, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.

  She joined my side, and I opened my senses to the other creatures in the sparse woods. Then I started to track.

  I’d always been good at tracking. For my father watching his lastborn daughter fulfill the role of his firstborn son, it was one of the few things he took pride in. We’d hold competitions in the village where, during the dead of night, we would sneak through the forests to try to find and capture one another. People would bet on which hunter they thought would get the most “kills” and who would survive the longest without being seen. To the fury of the men, I was always the winner. Becoming invisible, adapting so I was one with the environment, was always my strong suit.

  I walked lightly through the underbrush, my steps barely making a sound. I could sense Rekke’s presence behind me. She didn’t speak, but I could feel the eagerness radiating off her in waves, and I hoped that it wasn’t directed toward getting me alone.

  The tips of my fingers tingled as I got close to a source of power. It was small, nothing close to the power of a predator, but it still prickled at my fingertips and flowed through my body like ice water, bringing it to life. Ever since the power of the lordling had absorbed into my skin, the goblin-like senses had become sharper. I’d never seen the prey lines on the ground as clearly as I did now, nor had I ever been able to sense the power coming off of others. Before it was an abstract concept, but now it was something tangible, as if I could feel it in my hands and manipulate it into the shape I chose. I reached for the nail in my bracer’s pocket, relieved when I didn’t feel the hint of a burn. I was safe. I wasn’t changing, not yet.

  My ears sensed the r
abbit before my eyes did; and my arrow went through its eye before it could run. I picked it up, pulling the arrow out of it, and strung the dead animal across my belt. One down, countless more to go. I knew how much goblins could eat.

  A deer would’ve been better, but I’d have more luck finding a unicorn than a deer able to graze in these scrublands. The naked skeleton trees and the scraggily grass barely were considered life.

  Rekke didn’t hide her thrill at my skills. “Wow,” she said. “You’re amazing at that.”

  “For a human?” I asked, letting some of the bitterness seep into my tone. If she was mainly raised by Elvira, I wouldn’t be surprised to find she viewed humans the same way.

  The young goblin’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No, I meant in general. You’re really good with the bow.”

  I turned to look at the small she-goblin, shocked at the compliment. It’d been so easily given and wasn’t shrouded in the double meanings behind most of the words her kind spoke. She really was young, then. A prick of pity stabbed at my heart. What was a girl like her doing under the supervision of Elvira? What was she doing out here on the Hunt when she barely had enough power to participate? I reached out with my senses and could vaguely grasp her power, shrouding her like purple mist, but it was brittle and easy to break. Perhaps Elvira brought her along to kill her.

  The thought covered me like a thick, dark cloud. It wasn’t unknown for goblins to kill their competitors—it was practically encouraged. Soren had killed his father to get his seat; as far as I knew his father had killed his father; the line went on and on. But the thought of this young, almost harmless girl dead because of the threat she might one day pose pressed heavy against my chest. She was a goblin. Not a girl. I couldn’t think of her as one. Convincing myself she was evil would’ve been easier if she hadn’t been looking at me with those wide eyes.

  “It’s an easy shot,” I said, wiping off the blood from my arrow, trying not to think too hard. “You want to try the next one?”