Her dreams were plagued with nightmares, old memories dredged up by everything that had happened. She woke when dawn was just breaking over the forest, the gray dim light lightening the room minute by minute.

  With a sigh, she wrapped her ankle and dressed. Exiting out her door, she noted two were awake, acting as sentries—one was the púca guardswoman she was training, the other was a redcap new hunter, wandering around and whistling as he did.

  Redcaps were some of the few fey that left her, as a weak greenling, alone. They had hats that they could control the shape of and needed blood to maintain their bright red color. Generally, they were ruthlessly chaotic menaces to society. Still, they liked good quality blood, meaning that they were often gladiators in the pits as they were entirely too chaotic to attempt playing soldier. They tended to gut those who gave them orders.

  Squirt wasn’t fool enough to give one orders, and her blood was not quality enough to be of interest to a bloodthirsty redcap. In fact, she had never once had a conversation with one before in her life.

  This one was rather small even for a redcap, who never had the bulk of a big shifter or a d’mi. His skin was the pale color of a winter fey, his hair dark enough for the color to be unidentifiable in the early morning light.

  Squirt kept a wary eye on him as she limped herself over to the creek. Setting herself down, she unwrapped her ankle, hissing as she lowered it into the cold mountain water. It would reduce the swelling and needed to soak it for a while.

  Settling herself, she pulled out a board and began writing up the damn book report the lord had asked her for.

  After a few minutes, the redcap approached, though without turning around, she wouldn’t know what his temperament was. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she braced herself, keeping her eyes lowered on her work.

  A voice by her ear startled her enough that she had to flail to catch her ink pot and board and keep them from the creek. “You’re not what I expected.”

  Scowling as she carefully replaced the ink, she didn’t answer since it wasn’t a question, instead inspecting the shadowfell beside her. Shadowfell were agendered fey, somehow male, female, and neither all at once. Much like shifters had a separate form from their fey one, they did as well. Theirs was a tentacled shadow monster similar to a kraken. Their tentacles were thinner and lacked the suckers, and they had far more of them, but the comparison was still apt. They were a type of night fey as opposed to one with seasonal magic.

  This one had pale skin not unlike the redcap as they formed from the shadows to crouch on the bank next to the scowling Squirt, their voice an easy monotone tenor, their hair more of those lashing tendrils that defied gravity, acting like wild, writhing dreadlocks. “You are fiercer.”

  Squirt gave the shadowfell a wary look, resisting the urge to lean away. Day and night fey were not as common in Fer’ich as they were in some of the other kingdoms on the continent, and shadowfell in particular were rather disconcerting.

  On her other side, the redcap squatted and hummed, a manic gleam in his bloodred eyes common amongst all redcaps. He inhaled deeply and grinned. “Brave you are, even if you fear us.”

  She scowled harder. She was predisposed to fear things more powerful than her, as much as it annoyed her.

  Putting away the board and parchment, she switched to inspecting her short sword and cleaning it. It had been cleaned once since she’d collapsed in the clearing, likely not by her, and it could use a bit of tender care to the edge. It remained plenty sharp due to the enchantment on it, so sharpening was more about keeping the edge even rather than because it was required.

  And something about the two on either side of her made her want a blade in hand.

  The redcap cackled while the shadowfell just leaned even closer, seeming to purposefully want to keep her off balance and push the limits of personal space. Squirt refused to cower, but she was smart enough to know that either of these two could wipe the floor with her.

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  Instead, she let them harass her. They never touched her, never threatened her, just remained uncomfortably close.

  The redcap ended up giggling excitedly over her knives when she pulled those out next, then started pointing to whatever scars he could see on her arms.

  “What’s this one?”

  She glowered down at the knife she was cleaning. “A cut from an umberwolf.”

  “Oo. I see, I see. What about this one?”

  Required by propriety to answer, she did, even if it irked her. “A lesson.”

  “In?”

  She tensed, her irritation rising. “In obedience to my betters.”

  The redcap hummed. “And?”

  “And?”

  “Did you gut them?”

  Squirt’s movements stopped as her expression darkened. Gods, she wished she could have. “No, guardsman. I did not.”

  “Pity.”

  Squirt put the blade away and pulled her now numb ankle out of the water. She wrapped it to stabilize it, then stood. The thing was still sore, and it wouldn’t be smart for her to do too much on it, but so long as she was careful it would be finished healing by tomorrow.

  By now, the sun had fully risen over the horizon and some of the others were starting to wake. Their tents were all crowded around each other opposite her cabin and the fire pit they’d made, though she didn’t count enough tents. Either some of them were sharing, or the male pixie and the child were not amongst the tents.

  Not that she cared, of course. Nope. Not at all. She wasn’t looking for him, just… cautiously checking to see if he was up.

  Scowling, she limped herself over to an empty space, wishing fervently she could go back to the solitude she’d thought she’d been promised as she pulled out the short sword and began her daily swings with it. The basic ones meant to build up the muscle involved.

  The enchantment meant the blade would cut through flesh and bone like a hot knife through butter, but after that marathon race for her life, she knew she needed the muscles to just swing the damn thing and keep swinging.

  So long as she was alive, she could and would fight.

  She was halfway through when Tobias attempted to sneak up. She scowled at him, making him stand from his crouch with an admonishing eyebrow raise before he plucked the blade from her hands too quickly for her to stop it. Then the bastard held the sword above his head.

  “Naughty Braveheart. You should be resting.”

  “Fucker, I am resting. I’m not doing the whole pattern dance and I’ve already done basic care, it’s a fucking sprain, now give me back my fucking sword—”

  “Not a chance.”

  Growling in indignation, a look crossed his face that she hated more than anything.

  He thought her anger adorable.

  The rest of the camp was awake at this point, with Jul tiredly manning the cooking fire along with the pixie trainee and one of the new hunters sent by the Queen.

  Gods. The damn Queen.

  And his lordship gave her the house.

  One of the new hunters, a shifter by the looks of her, gave a happy, friendly wave along with a bright call of, “Good morning, Miss Hunter!” as she trotted over from between the tents, stopping in front of them with an exaggerated salute. “What’s on the docket for today?”

  She waited expectantly for Squirt to answer like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Frozen and completely baffled by the very notion, her eyes strayed back to Tobias, who rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, how about she teaches you all about collecting materials over breakfast, and then we’ll take a tour of the traps to put it into practice.”

  The shifter saluted again, a goofy grin on her face. “Rodger, Rodger! You got it, boss!” before spinning on her heel and dashing off, waving and generally making a ruckus around camp as she started gathering everyone up.

  Squirt stared after her in a daze, having had no say at all, when one of the nearby larger trees opened up like the trunk itself was a doorway, and the child trotted out with a bright smile, the pest following behind her with a stretch.

  Catching her eyes, he grinned, his hands laced behind his head, his gaze attentive and relaxed.

  She scowled at them both, though the child paid her no mind as she trotted right up to Squirt. “Good morning, Miss Hunter.”

  Squirt groaned. “Not you, too.”

  She missed how Tobias winked at the girl, who grinned in response. Tobias then cleared his throat and said, “Well, Miss Hunter is going to teach us all some things about feybeasts over breakfast. You excited?”

  The little girl genuinely clapped and squealed.

  Squirt’s expression flattened. How—shouldn’t she be traumatized by the idea of feybeasts?

  But nope, the child pranced off, skipping as she ran over to the pest and linked her arm into his elbow, saying something to him in an excited voice before tugging him over. He followed with an indulgent grin, allowing himself to be dragged by the eager child.

  Staring off at everyone as they gathered and he made a table to sit at, she watched as Tobias then started setting out some of the gathered materials while trading jokes with those present.

  What had her life come to?

  The pest made them all seats with tables like a gods damned outdoor lecture hall with an easy wave of his hand before he turned and gave her a confident smile, his fists on his hips, far too proud of himself for the small amount of effort he put in.

  Life was so damn unfair.