Read The Dark Huntsman: A Fantasy Romance of The Black Court (Tales of The Black Court Book 1) for Free Online Page B

careless.
    “Well, well, well. Look what the lions have dragged in. Haven’t seen you in, say… fifteen years. Or has it been longer than that? I didn’t notice.”
    “Bosco.” Logan’s chin dipped in brief recognition.
    Slim and tall, a true Tuatha De Danann, Bosco posed, leaning on a nearby pillar in a negligent fashion. He had tweaked a traditional jester’s garb into a tight, black and white motley of shorts and tank that showcased his black eyes, white punked hair, and other assets.
    “I didn’t think she’d ever let you out, after your betrayal.”
    Logan’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t betray anyone.”
    “Well, the queen certainly didn’t take well to you backing the prince instead of her. She should have expected it of a mixed breed like you. I’d say, since she threw you in the dungeon, she thinks you’re a backstabbing cur.”
    “You haven’t changed, Bosco, still sniffing around court for easy meat.” Logan refused to be taunted into losing it today. He had to keep his cool. “Bugger off.”
    Bosco gave his eyes an exaggerated roll. “One would think that growing up here, you would know better how to survive this cesspool.”
    “I’m still alive.” Logan’s tightly locked jaw ached. He stifled the almost smothering rise of memories of his miserable childhood, and how many times he’d been saved from Bosco’s crowd by luck. Luck, and the prince.
    “Hmmm. So, are you the prince’s man, or the queen’s? The dungeons can be a powerful persuader.” Bosco slid off the wall, circling around Logan, searching for weakness. “I know you aren’t a fan of the queen’s choice of bride for poor Kian, but surely, marriage to one of the troll-kin is better than imprisonment. Or at the very least, a different kind.”
    Was Kian still imprisoned? The prince hadn’t been in the queen’s dungeon and he sure as hell hadn’t contacted Logan since his release. Anxiety knotted his stomach. Concern for the prince was not something he could afford today. Nor was trading information with Bosco.
    His liege, the prince, would have to wait. He had the witch to protect first. Not for the first time he regretted his impulsive nature. He should have learned his lessons better in the dungeon.
    “Logan Ni Brennan to see her majesty.” The clear voice of the seneschal rang out over the crowd. Logan turned his back on Bosco, ignoring his hiss of displeasure. Bosco was the queen’s fool, not someone who would ever be his ally. It was time to face the bitch.
    The enormous doors opened and Logan stepped through into the glitz and glitter of the never-ending party that was the Court of the Black Queen.
    Court. What a crock. A gorgeous cover for a mass of social quicksand, shifting and sucking the unwary down to their doom.
    He passed lumbering giants and clusters of the tiny blood-sucking winged fae, teeth gleaming in sharply pretty faces. Whispers spread in front of him in a shallow spill of oil, ready for him to slip. On the outside, he strode with a confidence none could deny. Inside, he tread warily.
    Court hadn’t changed during his absence. Everyone in the sultry atmosphere competing for tiny bits of information that might push their tiny movements up the ladder. Or down. Long green expanses filled with bright flowers combined with the massive walls of thorns. Room after room spread out for the exotically dressed and politically charged crowd to gossip, play, or torture.
    He split one large festive group in two, silks and satins rustling as he pushed between a large Indian tiger conversing with an elegant Tuathan lady and a tuxedoed satyr. He ignored the laughter and snide comments dropped behind the crowd’s hands and paws. Odds were, the crowd thought he was still in disfavor.
    Odds were, they were right.
    He was at the approach to the queen faster than he’d ever made the walk before and it increased his already strung-tight nerves. Sometimes, the magic of the audience chamber shuffled you away and you