57
Eoforwic, Deira. February 15, AD 643
The echo of the hounds’ eerie cries faded from Wulfram’s mind. He opened his eyes, clenching his jaw against the rage that filled him.
The thrice-bedamned Seelies had thwarted his plan. His lip curled in disgust, thinking of Nectan standing defiantly before the Huntsman, the others ringing the glade around him. Matthew would be dead, if not for their interference.
How on earth had they known? And why had they come to the other Traveller’s aid? He knew for a fact that Matthew had refused Nectan just as decisively as he had Raegenold.
But be that as it may, here he was. The Huntsman had failed; he had failed. And now the boy and his father were reunited.
Disaster.
His crow had seen the whole thing, but unfortunately it couldn’t transmit the conv
