Page 37 of The Hunted

Even if it changed in a blink of an eye.

“Corval!”

Beside him, the mermaid hunter stiffened. “What?”

Like Eryx, he never took his gaze from the water.

“We knew this was a risk given the time of year, Corval. The storms—they come in bursts. We won’t have time to get back to the wharf safely if we continue with the hunt.”

Every word the captain spoke had Eryx’s heart beating impossibly louder.

Both redheads.

“Don’t call off the hunt,” Eryx warned Corval, “or you’ll see nothing for this effort.”

Corval’s jaw tensed, but a nod answered Eryx before the man called to the captain of the ship, “They’re lifting the nets. We’re too far into this to turn back now. Ride the storm out, Captain.”

“This is my ship!”

“And we’ll replace it if need be. Josef says it’s two women—imagine the price they’ll fetch.”

“Corval—”

“There she is!” came the call from the crow’s nest. “One in the net!”

Corval waved a hand high. “Close in, Captain.”

“Corval, the storm will send us into the fuckin’ water!”

“Close in,” the hunter repeated.

Eryx met the man’s stare, and Corval lifted one shoulder as if he were silently asking, you’re sure this is what you want?

He understood the dangers.

“West, he said?”

“Yes, he saw them west, Prince.”

Eryx reached for the spyglass dangling from the hunter’s grasp. “Let me have a look, then.”

The sails dropped. All it took was a simple shift of the ship’s direction, and they were sailing across churning waters as the first drops of rain spattered against Eryx’s cheeks. Not that he noticed. He was a bit busy scanning the surface of the sea with the hunter’s spyglass. All the way to the side of the ship where a blue net was being dragged handful by handful from the waters by a line of men.

They struggled. From the water or the possibility of something being inside the net, well … he couldn’t be sure.

Eryx followed the line of the net through the water and there it was.

It was nothing more than a brief flash maybe a few inches beneath the surface of the sea, but he saw it. The flip of a fin—black and green and blue scales that shimmered even when there wasn’t any light to help it reflect. But it wasn’t so much the color of the fin as it was the distinct markings.

Markings that, like her face, Eryx couldn’t forget. He dropped the spyglass to his side.

“It’s her.”

Corval’s gaze cut to him as the rain and wind came harder. All around them, it smelled like the sea. Salt and water. Cold and crisp. A high wave crashed into the side of the ship, sending a spray of water up over the rails and across the deck.

“She can’t go far,” Corval said, “because we’ve got the area covered.”

“Make sure of it.”