The Hunt (The Twisted Kingdoms, #1)

by Frost Kay

The Merfolk let vanity take root deep in their hearts, the Dragons became greedy from the skies, the Giants grew bloodthirsty, the Humans covetous, the Shapeshifters prideful, and the Elves allowed apathy to squeeze compassion from their hearts.

“That men are babes when it comes to pain, and that women can bear almost anything.” Aleks snorted. “That’s the truth if I ever heard it. Many a man pass out when they experience pain, let alone witness a woman giving birth.”

“There’s a reason why women bear the children. The all-knowing understood that we couldn’t handle such pain or such glory. We’re wicked, vain creatures as a whole. Could you imagine how men would act if they actually had the power to create life?”

One careless move, and she’d fall right out of the top. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous, that’s what it was. It was probably a man who designed this dress. The bastard.

“On the contrary,” he said. “Every woman should be treated like a lady.” “If only the rest of the male population thought the same,” she muttered, searching for her flint and steel.

“Nothing. Not a bloody thing. I don’t even know them. I spotted them at a distance in the woods and made sure to give them a wide berth.” “Which part of the woods?” “The green part,” she retorted sarcastically.

“I’ve spent a great deal of time among women—” Tempest snorted. Pyre’s strange, inhuman ears twitched in amusement as he continued, “—so I know nothing is never really nothing with a woman.”

Aspen was still staring at her in awe. “Are you a goddess?” he asked, without a hint of sarcasm. “You have hair like the skies.” Pyre’s lips twitched, and Tempest held up a finger. “Don’t you dare,” she warned. The kitsune bust out in laugher, flinging his head back so abruptly that the boy slipped from his shoulders. Tempest lurched forward to catch him just in time, the little one clinging to her with wide eyes. “A-a goddess?” Pyre sniggered, almost inconsolable in his mirth.

Tempest forced herself to look at Pyre. The man’s sharp features seemed ever more pronounced in the morning sunlight, making him look less human than normal. It twisted her stomach in a way she could not describe and reminded her of the stark difference between them. A fox and a Hound.

“Everyone deserves to be treated with kindness and respect, no matter to whom they were born.” “A rare sentiment,” Rina commented softly. “For anyone.” “Except for me,” Pyre retorted. “My Hound doesn’t quite like me.” “No one likes you,” the shifter teased and waved a hand, walking away.

“I stand on the side of the innocent,” she said with conviction, tipping her head up to stare at Briggs. No one should lose their loved ones to such senseless violence. The healer nodded gravely. “Good. They need all the protectors they can get.”

“Don’t make me regret trusting you.” “Don’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me.”

“I stand on the side of the innocent.” Tempest lifted her chin and stood taller. “You certainly aren’t innocent.” “My delicate sensibilities are so offended,” he cried.