Betrayer. Beloved. Loss and hatred flashed momentarily hot in Irridihwe's heart as it always did when she saw her brother. Golden as the sun even in the deepening dusk, he refused the night's embrace as surely as he'd refused hers. With cold elegance she inclined her impassive countenance in his direction.
“Serra.”
She purposely failed to hide an indulgent smile at her champion's insane-seeming rambling. The deeper meanings and implied insults amused her jaded ears. He walked a fine line and knew that she would not protect him should her brother lords or her king decide he'd gone too far, but seemed to enjoy his balancing act as much as she enjoyed witnessing it.
The High Lord ruined her fun a moment later, though and she fumed. How dare he insult her Court! Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated ways to make him suffer before her Champion's breach of protocol drew her attention back to her Hunting party. A slight uneasy shifting in her steed in response to her tension was the only indication that Illisar's forwardness had unsettled her as well. She had grown lax in her handling of him of late. Perhaps after this Hunt was over, she'd need to take a firmer grasp upon his leash. Such matters were best considered later, however. Right now she just wanted her Champion to keep the Trophy away from the smug Day Lord and his obnoxious four seasons.
Four other Hunters she had chosen, carefully handpicked for their task. They were not given the honor to strive for the Trophy. Her abstention meant that privilege went to Lord Illisar alone. Their task this night was to interfere with the other Hunters, rescuing their intended prey with promises of safety and leading the hapless humans straight into the final embrace of her Champion. For that purpose she had selected fey with fine tracking abilities and a less threatening demeanor.
As her King addressed their prey, Irridihwe scanned the gathered humans, searching for suitable Chosen possessing such important qualities as vitality, attractiveness, poise and most importantly breedability. Her eyes sharpened as she saw a male/female pair. Mated? Possibly. If not, they soon would be. They looked like strong stock to begin her new menagerie. The likeness of her own Erlking resting in the female's hands sealed her choice. Three more sets of humans she picked out, more than at any time since she'd begun bestowing Kisses upon her prey, before the great Horn sounded and chaos reigned.
As bedlam broke out around her, she dismounted with an unconcerned air, giving her Hind a casual pat. Normally she Chose no more than two or three to amuse her, stalking and tormenting them through the night before claiming each one just before the sun rose, when they felt hope that they would see the dawn and its safety. She'd Chosen those she considered the finest of the lot, would kill and would claim- forever. When the others gave up their prizes one year from now, she would not. What was left of Lord Illisar's Kills would join her coterie. With the King asleep until long after their pitiful lifespans had passed and no one else with the authority to gainsay her, who would stop her? No one ever had in the past.
Her Champion's shriek rode the clearing, and she smiled. One of her Chosen, the first male, slipped into the forest, thinking himself unseen and her gay laughter rang out in odd counterpoint to Illisar's dread voice. Though she was on a mission, nothing said she could not enjoy herself. She'd have preferred to start with his companion, the female who wore the Forest King's token, but that one was lost for the moment.
The guttering fires and frantic activity threw looming shadows throughout the clearing, making travel easy. The Night was her element. Here she reigned supreme. None, save the Forest King, could match her. With a soft swish of her skirts and a sighing of silk, Irridihwe stepped into the deep shadow cast by a large twisted oak and emerged from the dark side of a tall maple a few hundred feet east and a bit further into the forest, close enough to touch the human male she sought. Leaning against a tree trunk with his head turned away from her, he watched the carnage in the clearing. The Lady could hear the pounding of his heart, strong and frantic, and sighed as softly as her gown, anticipating the taste of the blood rushing through it.
Soon.