Page 24 of The Hunted

He almost wanted to scoff.

That would hurt, though.

“To be fair, sire,” his advisor said, coming in a second too late to the conversation as far as Eryx was concerned, “you did allow Anthia a great deal of freedom in her place. She often came and went without question where others would have been stripped and beaten in the square for the same actions. It’s not exactly surprising that Eryx was fond of her when you never forbid the two of them—”

“Did I ask?” Misael uttered, jaw clenching. “You seem to be another one who constantly forgets your place, Mattue. You’re are not wearing a crown—you advise it.”

Eryx bet that hit a nerve.

His father was quite good at that.

Mattue was quick to quiet. “My apologies.”

He tipped his head down and said nothing else.

Misael turned his attention back on Eryx. “I have had just about enough of trying to justify my only living son’s affections for the slaves of this realm. It seems you’ve forgotten your place, Eryx, or you don’t appreciate what you’ve been given. I can’t have the rest of my people seeing it. Because then, they will think it’s appropriate for them to follow the same path.”

His affections?

He’d only ever cared for his mother.

Goddammit.

He didn’t even love his father the way he loved his mother.

Misael didn’t give him the chance to respond before his father said, “It’s time for you to learn exactly what I expect of you. Nothing else will be acceptable after this day, Eryx.”

“What does that—”

“Mattue—what we discussed, you may relay it to Eryx, as I no longer care to stand here and stare at his face. I’m sure you know why this is fitting for him, now more so than it was when we first discussed the option.”

The king left the room in the same way he’d arrived. Without a word, without permission, and without a single care in the world that he was leaving behind his son, who had clearly lost something that meant more to him than even this kingdom did.

Not that Misael cared.

He never had.

“Plans have changed,” Mattue said quietly, drawing in Eryx’s attention, “as your father decided while the physicians were in here with you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You won’t return to court with the rest of us. Instead, you’ll remain here in the west. Banished to the House of Miller until the king says otherwise. Word will travel about what happened—that you were with the slave when she was killed.”

“Stop calling her that.”

Mattue tipped his chin up, murmuring, “But that is what she is.”

“Was.”

“Eryx.”

He was sure he would snap the tips of his teeth from how hard he clenched his jaw together. It hurt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a single damn, either.

“Word will travel,” the man repeated, “and when that happens, stories will get told that may not match the details of what occurred. Your father wants to ensure that no matter what, the realm sees you’re being treated appropriately for your behavior and favor toward the—”

“Call her a slave one more time and I’ll cut your fucking tongue from your mouth, Mattue.”

Wisely, the man chose to say nothing.