Hunter had never been particularly good at following orders to the letter. True, he was employed by the royal family and they paid him well to do as he was told ㅡ but they'd never given him anything he couldn't do, and they let him do it on his own terms.

Until he was asked to murder the heir to the throne. He thought it was a joke, albeit a bad one, until he was handed an ornate dagger and a wooden box ㅡ for putting the hair's heart in, as proof that the deed was done.

What he had been asked to do wasn't only treason, but it was wrong ㅡ very wrong, on so many levels. True Hunter wasn't particularly fond of royals as a whole, but the heir ㅡ he liked them. They were a good person.

So why was he being asked to kill them? Jealousy, he supposed, though he couldn't fathom why it would prompt the need for their own child's death. But he'd nodded, taken both the box and dagger, and sworn it would be done.

And then he hadn't. He couldn't ㅡ he'd led the heir out on one of their trips on horseback, argued with himself about how easy it would be while their back was turned. But they trusted him.

So he'd told them everything instead. Told them about the intention to end their life by their parent, then told them to run. He'd catch up later, make sure they made it as far from the castle as possible ㅡ but he had to find a way to make their death believable.

The boar had been easier to kill by far. And the heart was a meaty thing, bloody and large enough to fool, to give the impression he'd done as asked. He'd gotten his payment.

And then he left, kept to the cover of night to make his departure less suspicious. Once he made it back to the heir, they could leave. And hopefully be far, far away by the time his deception was discovered, if it ever was.

Which was what had led to now ㅡ sitting in the back of a tavern with the heir beside him, heavy cloak drawn around their shoulders and hood up. The less they were seen, the less chance of being recognized. But they were scared ㅡ and he didn't blame them at all.