No, our relationship wasn’t about lust or passion, but he was stable and loyal and would make a fine husband. That was better. That’s what a queen needed.

He dropped his stag in the line and then straightened with a grin, his bright blue eyes sparkling. Blood covered his tunic, and there was a splash on his cheek, but otherwise he was whole. Looking down the row, it was obvious his kill was the largest, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Despite everything, he was still my first choice.

The overseers tabulated the numbers, assessing Ellis’s stag. When they were done, they scurried to my father, all of them moving to the side to speak in soft whispers. Two hunters hadn’t made it back, and now it was time to decide the victor.

My mother and I exchanged a glance before I looked over at Ellis and gave him a tentative wave.

When my father finished conferring, he strode over with a beaming smile, his arms wide, ready to embrace his new son and welcome him to our family. “Ellis—”

“Not so fast,” came a low, rumbling voice through the trees.

Every head turned to the sound as a figure emerged. It was enormous, wearing a long black cloak that brushed nearly to the ground, covered in thick shaggy fur. Its boots struck the earth with the cadence of a dirge as it approached, walking straight to where I stood with my family. Covered with a hood, its head was bent low with the weight of its enormous burden.

With a grunt, the figure heaved the biggest stag I’d ever seen off its shoulders and dropped the carcass at my feet with a resounding thud.

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Chapter Two

I stared at the dead animal, trying to fit my thoughts together, but shock dissolved them like sugar spun thread.

“The Reaper,” my mother whispered, her hand gripping mine so tight my fingers went numb. Margaret screamed, ducking behind me as my father stepped forward, shielding us both with his arm.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked in his most commanding voice.

The figure then looked up. It wore a matte black mask in the shape of a leering skull, its row of menacing teeth flashing gold. It was the specter of death. A vision to make you believe in the possibility of all your worst fears.

We all knew the stories—nightmares charged with tales of the Reaper and what he did to those he dragged into the forest. The dead girls we’d found over the years. Their hearts ripped from their chests, their vacant eyes staring at the sky, their mouths open with the last screams they’d never utter.

“I’m competing for the hand of the princess,” the Reaper said, his voice like rusty chains dragged over stone. He spat the word ‘princess’ like it was an embittered curse he’d found amongst a heap of garbage. I took a step back from the force of it, where I bumped into Margaret, who squeaked as I trod on her foot.

This monster wanted to marry me?

“You can’t,” my father said, drawing himself up.

The grotesque mask swung to me and then back to my father. The only thing visible was a pair of dark, glittering eyes, sharp as knife points. He tipped his head like a wolf scenting prey, the movement so feral it was as though the forest had born him straight from its roots. “Is it not the right of every citizen in Aetherus to compete in the Hunt, Your Majesty?”

My father’s chin quivered, and his hands balled into fists. “Yes...” He stopped, searching for an answer that failed to materialize. “But you didn’t enter this morning. You must enter.”

“Actually,” one overseer remarked, raising a bony finger. “That is merely a courtesy. It isn’t part of the rules.”

My father’s nostrils flared, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He threw the overseer a murderous glare, and the man swallowed, perhaps realizing he’d just enjoyed his final moments on this plane.

The Reaper took a step closer, and a collective hush whipped around the clearing like autumn leaves kicked up on the wind. My father wasn’t a small man, but the Reaper towered over him. “Record my stag,” the Reaper said.

Huffing out deep, angry breaths, my father faced off with the Reaper, his cheeks red, and his eyes wild. The overseer, who had spoken up, took a tentative step forward, bowing to the king who, after a moment, gave a strained nod.

My father had no choice, I realized. These were the rules of the Hunt. Failure to comply would bring down the wrath of the Fae and their wanton brutality.

The overseer dashed forward, stretching out his measuring tape as his helpers heaved the stag onto the scale. This was pointless, though. Anyone with eyes could see the Reaper’s stag overshadowed the rest. I exchanged a look with Ellis. Held in a trance, he finally snapped and strode forward, his shoulders set with purpose.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me close, staring at the Reaper, whose grotesque mask seemed to grow more animalistic with each passing second. The demon’s eyes flicked back and forth between us, and if I hadn’t known any better, I’d swear they simmered with amusement.

I huddled closer to the man I was supposed to marry, suddenly wanting to be nowhere else but safe and cherished in his arms. This was where I belonged. Ellis pulled me tight, whispering reassurances in my ear.

Finished with their task, the overseers stood and faced the king.

“This...contestant’s stag is the largest by several orders, Your Majesty. Unless there are any other claimants—” he paused, sucking in an audible breath “—the Reaper is the winner of the princess’s hand.”

A cry rose around the clearing as my entire future dissolved into a puff of ashes at my feet.

“No!” Ellis said, wrapping his arms around me. “No, I will not allow this.”

My father studied us both, grim resignation in his expression.

“This monster cannot be the king!” Ellis cried, pointing at the Reaper. “You cannot mean to go through with this.”

“I have no desire to be a king,” the Reaper snarled through the mask, his voice darker than the pits of the underworld from which he came. “I’m taking her with me.”

At that, my knees turned to jelly. It was one thing to be in the castle surrounded by my friends and family, but to be alone with him out in the forest? I’d be dead before the sun rose.

“You will not!” my father said, the words fused with molten rage. “She belongs here.” He looked at his feet and then back up, rolling his shoulders before he grabbed an overseer by the collar of his robe. “Find a loophole in the rules. Something. Rowan is not going anywhere.”

The overseers were already perusing the documents, conferring in hushed voices. But the same overseer who’d spoken earlier shook his head. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. There is nothing preventing him from taking her. He has won, as per the rules of the Hunt.”

“There must be something,” my father hissed, towering over him. “Find something.”

Ellis held me tighter, as though he could leash the trembling in my limbs.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the overseer whispered, his voice quivering. “We can keep looking, but by the decree, the princess now belongs to the Reaper.”

My mother covered her mouth while it opened in a soundless scream. “Gerald, you must do something,” she sobbed. “Rowan cannot... she...” My mother trailed off as her eyes found the Reaper, who stood silently waiting for us all to come to terms with what I already understood. He knew his rights; I was his prize. No one could question that.

His gaze found me, those endless black eyes burning with the promise of my ruin, and I shivered. What did he plan to do with me?

My father groaned in frustration and ran a hand down his face. “There’s nothing I can do.” His words held the strain of a razor-fine edge.

He looked at me with a significance that traversed the space between us. All our hopes and dreams were gone. Everything we’d planned and wished for was over, dead and buried in the cold, hard ground. I had no choice. “I’m sorry, Rowan,” he said with so much heartache, it wove into my soul, where I feared it would live forever. “This is never what I wanted for you. I should have taken precautions, but I never thought—”