Page 144 of The Hunted

And she hadn’t.

When she didn’t explain further, even at his raised brow, the man chuckled with a shake of his head and raised her leather collar with the embossed detailing to place it back at her throat. Before he could, however, a ruckus in the hallway drew Arelle’s attention to the doorway of the room in the harem where she’d been told to go to meet with the blacksmith for her fitting.

“What is that?” he asked.

“I don’t kn—”

She didn’t get to finish her statement before a servant of the court and two guards filed into the room while what looked like many more passed by the opened doorway. Each of their fast steps seemed to have a purpose. Their orders outside of the room rang out at the same time the ones inside the room told Arelle and the blacksmith, “There’s a revolt at the sea—they’re coming in from the water. We have limited time to move the king and court farther inland where he’ll be safer. The entire harem needs to be moved now.”

“Pack up! Only your robes and gowns. All else is not needed. Head for the entrance. Keep in line. Carriages will be waiting!”

Outside the room, the orders echoed.

What did they mean?

A revolt at the sea?

“Well, give me a moment to—”

“Now,” one of the guards barked.

The blacksmith made a dismissive grunt under his breath, then gave Arelle a smile as he pocketed her leather collar. “Seems you won’t be needing this, and I’ll be taking my leave until we meet up again.”

That was the last thing the blacksmith said to Arelle before she was pulled from the room by the guards.

Without her collar.

• • •

The carriage rocked hard to the left again, followed by severe cursing outside at the front before the crack of a whip sent the horses crying out.

Arelle dragged in a shaky breath, sad for the poor beasts being beaten for the errors of men. They should have known better. With roads made of dirt in the season of storms where rain poured until the ground was nothing but soft muck, travel became a dangerous event. It wasn’t the animal’s fault the two right wheels became buried into a pit of mud.

“Ay, you’re a fucking fool,” a man shouted, his air catching in the racing winds. “Stop rocking it; you’re making it go deeper!”

A hiss sliced through the carriage, followed by the click of a tongue. The surprising use of their own language had even Arelle turning her head away from the windows overlooking the guards struggling outside to free the buggy.

Listen to the wind.

She wasn’t sure which mermaid said it; it also didn’t matter when every mermaid in that carriage suddenly lifted their heads in tandem as wind swayed the carriage with its next blow. Not a single one of them spoke.

They didn’t need to when they could all hear it.

Not one call.

Or two.

Or even ten.

Their kind had many calls. For family. Their young. A mate. Royals. It was only one call that would cross any amount of land or sea—that of a mate. Because it was in their hearts. But so was the sea, and the wind that moved it. The other calls would travel, too, just in a different way.

Right then, it sounded like hundreds of calls were reaching them in the wind.

We’re coming.

Hold the land.

Fight.