Read Online The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) by Jennifer Blackstream - Free Book Online

pathetic number. Robin Hood had many victims, but finding them and getting them to come forward… None of the fey wanted to admit they’d been robbed, either out of pride or out of fear of what Robin’s kin might do to them. And the beneficiaries were understandably hesitant to reveal that they’d received what they likely knew was stolen gold.
    Mac gripped the edges of the table, the pads of his thumbs pressing into the cutlery-scarred surface. The buzzing in his ears grew louder, harder to shut out. The map blurred as his mind tried to follow a handful of tangents at once, always with the hum of the iron threatening to scatter his wits to the four corners.
    Where are you, Robin Hood?
    The door swung open, silent on well-oiled hinges, only the shift in the air giving it away. A brief clicking sound disturbed the silence of the room, then stopped. The weight of someone’s gaze fell on his back and he threw a glance over his shoulder.
    A wolf stood just inside the doorway, firelight playing in its amber eyes, making them glow. It was larger than most, would likely rest its paws on his shoulders if it stood up. Silver grey fur covered its body, long enough to hang in a fringe past its well-fed, but still muscled belly. The faintest dusting of black fur around its ears and eyes and its ebony nose were the only things keeping the beast from appearing as if carved from pure silver, like some smithy’s creation come to life. Its nose glistened in the firelight as it tilted its head at Mac. “So we will be moving soon. To finer surroundings, Sienna tells me.”
    The voice was masculine, smooth, and as clear as any human’s. It was the same voice the wolf had spoken with as a man, back when he’d been human. Before his seven years had started and his voice and form had been trapped in the body of a wolf.
    Mac turned his focus back to his map. “Yes. Guy is dead. I will submit a formal claim on his property tomorrow.”
    He slid his gaze over the curling black lines and spatters of dots that tattooed the map. The cartographer had promised it was one of the oldest to be had, that the hills, valleys, and rivers depicted on its face were the most accurate to be found—especially if one was interested in the hidden boughs and caves of the forest. Robin’s hiding place would be there somewhere. It had to be.
    “And the woman’s land?”
    His finger hovered over a spot where two pins lay close together. “Yes, the woman’s too. Now if you don’t mind, I am quite busy.”
    The wolf trotted over to the table, large head tilting up, as it tried to see what he was working on. Its nose touched the edge of the parchment and Mac paused, a new thought making itself heard over the buzz of the metal.
    “The woman—Marian. Do you know her?”
    Ca—no, the wolf. Mac had to think of him as the wolf. It, not him. Thinking of the wolf by his human name, thinking of him as a he, could lead to a slip of the tongue. The wrong word in front of the wrong person could lead to disaster for all of them. The wolf rose onto its hind legs and settled its front paws on the table.
    “Not beyond following her as you asked. She hunts more than is common, and certainly shows more skill for it than you'd usually find among women of her status. None of that nonsense with beaters or hounds. But beyond confirming that she does have a temper and she does—did—hate Guy, I never saw much cause to inspect her more carefully.”
    “You’ve gotten close though. Smelled her?”
    The fur around the wolf’s eye rose slightly, the lupine arching of an eyebrow. “Yes, I’ve smelled her. This body has a disgustingly overdeveloped sense of smell. I’ve smelled every object and person on the entire island —”
    “And does she smell human?”
    Another furry eyebrow arched, this time paired with a huff of breath through its nose at being interrupted. “She smells of rosemary. A lot of rosemary. So much rosemary, that to be anywhere near her has me sneezing