At some point he made a mistake. He screwed up and it all went downhill. Blood. A wild chase. Murder. Betrayal. An endless pursuit, exhausting, annoying, arousing no excitement like it had before. His prey had become smart, fast, had grown fangs and claws, she had been killing his riders. The losses were not significant, but it was no longer amusing.

It had seemed so simple at the beginning. He offended her but her pride was swallowed by admiration. She blushed at a minutest sign of courtesy on his part. This is what one pitiable flower can do, just what one irenical glance is capable of.

He could have, if he had only wished to, taken her in that pavilion. Or later when they dined together. He could have taken her and made her his ally - easily. But he had no interest in or patience for that.

So, what happened in the end? Quirky, sly Crevan had snatched the girl from under his very nose. That very Crevan, who had made her warm their king's bed, who would not think twice before cutting her to pieces in his laboratory. Suddenly that very elf became her mentor, protector, a friend even. What did he do to gain her trust? Put a spell on her? Or had he been sleeping with her? It could not be true. Crevan was above this, too proud and fastidious. So, what did Crevan have that Eredin did not?

The answer was obvious. Patience, reserve, reticence. Avallac'h always thought ahead, never gave away his plans. Unlike him, Sparrowhawk threw himself at his prey without a second thought, did not wait in ambush for hours and days, licking hungrily his cunning neb. Eredin did not tell lies, he was always honest. Cruel - yes. But honest.

Eredin would have never thought that Avallac'h could betray him. They had been friends for so many centuries and all had gone to waste. Crevan would never confess it, but the King of the Wild Hunt knew that Avallac'h had lost his mind when he had met Zireael. He despised himself, despised the girl, made himself believe that his interest in her was scientific and that of pure altruism. But it was obvious that in fact he had followed the green of Ciri's eyes like an ox goes to the slaughter. Perhaps Eredin was mistaken in thinking that Crevan would ever lead Ciri through the hell of his laboratory as those eyes could not be harmed. All the rest could be shred to pieces but not the eyes. Unfortunately, the eyes can only be as a part of the whole. Who knows, maybe Crevan would be the first to kill himself if anything happened to the girl. And Sparrowhawk would laugh at the news of his death. And weep.

For the moment they both had disappeared. For almost half a year Eredin had heard nothing of them. Crevan had finally found a covert deep enough. Eredin could not imagine what Avallac'h and Ciri could be doing together for so long, in what ways he had been using her. But one thing was clear. Something had to be changed. Strongarm methods were not always the best choice. Perhaps, he should try to act more gently, delicately, keep it simple.

He called for Caranthir. The latter did not keep him waiting - not because of Eredin being his king but as a tribute of their friendship.

- We set off for the Seidhe world tomorrow. See to that that everyone is ready and...

For a moment Eredin covered his eyes with his hand, as if hesitant about what he was going to say.

- Among dh'oine no one has ever seen our faces, right?

Caranthir frowned in an attempt to grasp what Eredin was hinting at.

- No. But what does it matter?

- It does, - he had already overcome a moment's indecision and his voice had regained his usual metal note. - We are going to pivot our strategy. No dh'oine can tell Aen Elle from Aen Seidhe, right?.. Tomorrow we are leaving our armour at home, you and I as well. You can take a sword if you wish, though. Have everyone wash themselves thoroughly, put on their best clothes, some fragrance perhaps... Kick Imlerith out of the party: he's bald and ugly. The same applies to all those with scars on their faces. Replace them with younger warriors, fresh and handsome and eloquent. In short, we must look as if we've come to make peace on earth, not war.

Caranthir looked startled as Eredin went on.

- When we hop, the first thing to do is form an alliance with Seidhe, as we are but few and might need support of our brethren. After that we'll split into groups and try to invade one of their cities, - he chuckled and grinned in a sly way. - Novigrad, for example. But no warfare this time.

- How are we going to achieve that?

- The plan is primitive. Do you remember how in good old times Seidhe won the trust of dh'oine? Oh, no, you sure don't - you were not yet born. I'll tell you how - they used sex. Dh'oine grew very fond of the beautiful elves and began sleeping with them and then protecting them from their own kind. Sex. The best way to form an alliance.

- But we live in a different time, - noted Caranthir.

- You're wrong. Nothing has changed. We still have hatred. We still have lust. You, for example, have you ever slept with dh'oine?

Caranthir blushed.

- Well...

- Of course, you have. Have you any idea how I know? Because everyone fucks with dh'oine. Well, except Crevan maybe. Not sure even about him, though. What I mean is we don't have to invent the wheel.

- Still, I don't quite understand how we're going to get the city.

- Look at your yourself in the mirror. What do you see there? I, for instance, would never believe you're a cold-blooded murderer, if I didn't know it already. Your face could be that of a savior of the world, - he smiled. - Sometimes looking at you, I still have doubts about your true nature. Dh'oine females would kill for the likes of you and me. See to that that everyone keep his mouth shut. We must convince dh'oine that there are kind elves who wish to save them from the Ice Age. Their females are sure to believe us. And when their males come for us, they're going to kill each other, trust me on this.

"Have never heard of such nonsesnse in my whole life," - thought Caranthir. "Looks like our king has lost his head."