Page 119 of The Hunted

That made him pause.

His grip loosened after a second. “Sometimes, you make it hard for me to keep hating you.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked.

Eryx swallowed hard. “Take the journal; put it where you promised.”

“Of course. Is the king—will it not end well when he arrives? For us?”

How did she just know?

He wanted to lie.

To reassure her.

Those words stuck to his throat like tar, refusing to leave his lips. Instead, he was left with only the truth and he knew it wouldn’t help.

“I don’t know,” he murmured.

“They whisper, you know? The servants. They say your father has a penchant for pretty slaves, and he can take any single one that he wants whenever he wants.”

His next breath ached. “It is the law, yes.”

“Including me?”

“You’re not his, Arelle.”

“But—”

“You’re not his.”

But would that make a difference?

That was the real question.

• • •

Eryx’s gaze swept the entrance hall of the stable estate’s main house. Every single servant had come to stand on either side of the corridor to wait for the impending arrival of the king. They kept their gazes straight ahead, never once looking Eryx’s way as his boots hit the floor with soft smacks while he did his final check.

They had very little time to be perfect.

It didn’t matter.

Everything would have to be perfect.

The king expected nothing less.

The clanging of the bell outside had Eryx stiffening as his gaze went to the guards standing ready at the doors. He gave one last glance over his shoulder, his stare zoning in on the woman who stood at the very far end of the line of servants. He’d wanted Arelle to attempt to blend in. He’d even had her change her dress to something less … attractive.

It didn’t make a difference.

She still stood out.

Beautifully.

Perfectly.

Fuck.