Francisco loved The Hunt. He loved the speed, the wind in his hair, the thunderous sound of hoofbeats, the screams of Climbers, the feel of his mount imposing its will on the terrain, and the shiny black fur of the hunting dogs sprinting alongside them, nearly as big as the horses themselves.He loved the fear of death when they clashed against the Climbers who didn’t run. The joy of vanquishing the brave…and the malicious pleasure of punishing the cowards for years.It was better than sex.Every monster in The Tower had instincts baked into them by the omnipresent miasma. The instinct to find and tear apart those who didn’t follow the flow of the miasma.but Fae were a little different. They could, for a time, muscle down that monstrous instinct. Express it in other ways. Unlike Climbers, the fae, as a species, were not animals. They were rational, thinking beings, capable of exercising logic.Many of them assigned a great deal of pride to that logic, and what better way than to prove their wit against Climbers? By and large, they were a dull lot, who knew they should simply keep their mouths shut, but like cattle lows when it is prodded, so too did Climbers forget their silly strategies when they were faced with superior beings.Kincaid understood that those instincts to tear and bite were natural, and not to be repressed, nor were they to be given into entirely. They were to be harnessed and unleashed when necessary.Francisco had been tormented by the soft, weak humans visiting the castle for years now, and had been nearing his limits.So when Lord Kincaid learned that a rare caravan had arrived on their Floor, he had given Francisco his long-awaited release, and a gift: The Lord’s Favor.It felt as though the wind peeled back his lips into a half snarl, half grin, exposing his fangs to these hapless Climbers.He could picture it now, the first thing they saw after their thunderous (...)