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“Don’t worry. I’ll keep them in line.”
Goemon’s gaze skimmed to him, a cruel sneer tugging back his lips. “I’m happy to step in when needed.”
A chill shot down my spine, but Lachlan shrugged. “I’ll let you know.” He took my hand with one final nod in the strange fae’s direction.
Lachlan strode back toward the forested lowlands, towing me along.
“Who was that?” I asked when the cabin was a speck in the distance. “He acted like he owns the bayou.”
He snorted, quickening his stride. “Goemon doesn’t own the bayou. He’d probably be offended at the suggestion. He guards it.”
“Does he work for you?” There was something off about their interaction.
His brows shot up with another low laugh. The sound slid under my skin and settled into my bones. “Goemon belongs to no court. He’s a member of the Wild Hunt.”
The term tripped a memory I couldn’t quite place. “The Wild Hunt?”
“Mercenaries who live outside the courts,” he explained, his boots squelching in the muddy marshland. “They uphold our most ancient laws, hunting down those marked for breaking them.”
I thought of the night I met Lachlan. “I thought you meted out your own justice.”
“Most of the time.” He glanced at me. The shadows hanging in his eyes told me he was remembering the same day. “But there are plenty of fae who ignore the authority of any court. Most live outside them, like Goemon, and avoid entering our cities. There are others who flee to avoid justice for their crimes, but they’re delaying the inevitable. Either we will brand them or magic will. Out here, the Wild Hunt is the law amongst the lawless. They don’t care about status or title or influence. They will collect any soul that’s been marked without mercy or consideration.”
His words chilled me. “By collect, you mean murder them?”
“Execute,” he corrected me. “Those marked for the Hunt are dead souls walking. The Hunt cannot be escaped. They are tireless in their pursuit of justice.”
“And if someone is innocent?”
“They aren’t.”
I paused, forcing him to stop. “How can you be sure?”
“Even if I brand a soul, magic must seal the mark.”
“Like a bargain?” I asked.
He nodded. “Magic has to deem the accusation to be true. It won’t condemn an innocent. It’s another way to balance our power.”
“But magic can mark someone on its own?” I shook my head. “Why would anyone ever break the law?”
“You’d be surprised how many think they won’t get caught. Maybe it’s a fault of our nature. But no, magic does not actually brand a soul entirely on its own. That duty lies with me or Roark, as well as the other heirs and their penumbras. There is only one instance in which magic will be called to mete out justice independently.” He held up his hand, flashing me the signet he wore. “It’s called upon when I cannot meet my responsibility.”
The coldness inside me spread until ice ran through my veins. “You mean, if you’re…”
“Dead,” he said in a clipped tone. “The assassination of an heir or their penumbra is considered a violation of the natural order.”
The ice inside me splintered. “If I had shot you that night…”
“Try not to think about it,” he advised, “but yes, you would have been marked.”
For a moment, I only stared. Then, I smacked him in the shoulder. “You might have warned me!”
Delighted laughter spilled from his lips. “What would have been the fun in that?” He edged dangerously close. “I took the bullets out, princess, but I left your choice up to you.”
Another part of the test, I realized.
“And even if it had been loaded, you wouldn’t have killed me.”