Exile of the Clave

Exile of the Clave - Chapter 14

The darkness of the tunnels outside the Unseelie Court was broken by only a single, faint lamp of flickering blue light, like a gas flame turned down low. Rayce lay in a heap underneath its glow, still unconscious from the discipline he had taken under Iarlath's whip. He had been dumped there unceremoniously at the King's order, and Caelus found him soon after receiving a message to fetch back the Lord of the Hunt from his master's doorstep.

The Faerie crouched down and reached out to gently touch Rayce's shoulder. There was no response, so he squeezed lightly.

Rayce hissed with pain and vanished, reappearing behind Caelus and driving him down hard into the stone of the tunnel floor with one knee in the small of the Hunter's back. The stripes across his back burned like fire, and several must have broken open their scabs because he felt fresh heat stain the cloak that lay across his wounds. The blood of the Hunt allowed him to heal faster than others, but not that fast.

"My Lord!" Caelus croaked in fear. Rayce recovered immediately and felt a flash of guilt for his reaction as he released his hold on the other man.

The Hunter pushed himself up, seemingly unfazed by his treatment. He cleared his throat. "My Lord, the Hunt has grown restless in your absence. Many have slipped away."

Rayce closed his eyes, weary. It never ends. "Take me back to them," he said quietly.

Caelus nodded and rose, offering a hand to help Rayce up, but the Shadowhunter ignored it and stood slowly as more scabs let go. He grimaced at the crackling sensation down his back and sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"I'm sorry I cannot ease your pain, my Lord. My gift does not run toward healing," the Faerie apologized.

Rayce briefly lingered on what he knew of Caelus' gift from Gwyn's memories. The Unseelie King had sired many talented sons, it would seem; some, perhaps, too talented. However, if his gift could run toward herding stray Hunters back into the fold, that would be wonderfully useful at the present. Rayce had often heard Zeke use the expression 'about as easy as herding cats' before, but he was tempted to amend that to 'Hunters' instead. They seemed to constantly push their boundaries with him.

Inside his cloak, he could feel the outline of Gwyn's horn resting against his side. It didn't matter how far they went; he would be able to bring them back, but he wanted to know who was missing first.

Wordlessly, he followed Caelus back through the Unseelie domain toward where he had left the others. I should have ordered them to stay, he berated himself. I have to get better at controlling them. The memory of his own forced submission to the Unseelie King's will was still fresh in his mind, though, and he was filled with revulsion at the thought of dominating the Hunters like that. What would it take to make him bend them to his will? Even leaving Fiorinor stranded on a moor until he was recalled made Rayce uncomfortable.

Ahead, a light grew brighter and brighter until they turned a corner and found a small Faerie fire burning in a wider section of tunnel. Baelerithon's shadow stretched behind him as he stood patiently with his arms folded across his chest. Rayce felt his guard snap up warily as he saw his brother waiting alone.

Bael's glittering black and amber eyes locked on to Rayce and Caelus as they rounded the bend, appraising every movement in a moment and filing away the information in his calculating mind. As they approached, Bael raised a slim, blue hand in a dismissive gesture. "Leave us, Caelus."

Accustomed to obedience, the Faerie ducked his head and slipped past Bael to rejoin the others. Baelerithon had been born to command, and it was second nature to him now. Rayce worried at how quickly the Hunter had complied; that was how the others should have responded to his commands, not Bael's.