Page 121 of The Hunted

The greetings rang out from every person Misael passed. He returned none of them.

At the very end, Arelle stood in front of the entry table piled high with melting candles. Eryx’s steps caught up to his father’s only a second or two after the king came to a stop in front of the red-headed mermaid who held her head high.

“Were you not informed on how to greet a king?” his father asked.

Arelle’s gaze darted to Eryx over Misael’s shoulder. Eryx nodded once to her—a command as much as it was a silent plea.

She curtseyed for the king.

“My lord,” she murmured.

Eryx couldn’t miss the way his father’s lips pulled into a pleased smile. Before any of them even knew what had happened, Misael reached out and caught one of Arelle’s loose curls between two of his fingers. He wrapped the strands tight to his fingers, and his gaze drank her up and down as though he’d found something he very much wanted.

Misael then glanced over his shoulder at Eryx. “Seems you and I have more in common than I thought—hunted this one in particular, did you?”

Eryx pulled in a stinging breath but said nothing.

Besides, his father had already turned his attention back on Arelle. “Mattue was right—there are very interesting things happening here. Dinner will be soon, yes?”

“Within the hour, Father,” Eryx replied thickly.

“I would like for this slave to sit beside me.”

Of course, he would.

And Eryx decided right then that he hated hearing his father call Arelle a slave. Except that’s what she was now, wasn’t it?

After all, he’d hunted her. He’d done this.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Arelle

DINNER RAN much later than it usually did. King Misael positioned himself at the head of the table where he could see everyone, and the first thing everyone else saw was him. And unfortunately, Arelle, too. Sitting directly beside him, she had the perfect view of everyone else sitting at the table—most who had come with the royal caravan—and of Eryx at the far end.

He sat at the head of his tables.

Not tonight.

Arelle didn’t think that was the reason for rage swimming in Eryx’s gaze whenever his stare came his father’s way, however. Oh, he was quite good at hiding it. So good, in fact, that his expression stayed neutral and blank throughout the dinner. If one didn’t know what his icy irises looked like when he was angry, then they wouldn’t be aware of his current state.

She did know.

And she could feel it.

That bothered her more. Mostly because for the moment, she couldn’t do anything to help calm his rage. And also because a part of her just knew … this evening wouldn’t end well.

“Hmm, no,” the king said, leaning over to swat away the hand of a servant who was currently offering the second pick of what was apparently Misael’s favorite sweet to the slave across the table from Arelle. The man tipped his crown-topped head in Arelle’s direction, saying, “Her first, and then the other.”

The servant never missed a beat. “Yes, your highness.”

A shuddering sigh echoed from the other end of the table, but with the amount of noise between the people eating and the quiet discussions reaching across the room, no one really heard it.

Or they didn’t care.

Arelle did.

“Would you like one?” the servant asked, having come around to Arelle’s side of the table. It drew her gaze away from Eryx at the other end whose gaze still burned with the fire of a thousand suns. Not at her, she knew, but right then she was the only thing he was staring at. “They are—”