The Hunted

by Bethany-Kris

  “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.

  “He’s going to banish me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Like a shameful secret.”

  “Well—”

  “Even though he has spent his entire reign over this realm catching mermaids to breed with them, so he could have an army of heirs and spares.”

  None of his statements were questions.

  Just truth.

  “Eryx—”

  “Unless you’re going to tell me something I wish to hear, you’re to say nothing at all, Mattue.”

  The rage that coursed through him mixed heavily with his grief as he spun back around to face the mirror once again. Only this time, he recognized all too well the fractured reflection of the man staring back at him.

  The boy he’d once been.

  Forgotten.

  Paraded like a trophy when needed.

  Discarded otherwise.

  Only his mother had been a constant. Only she had shown him true affection and love when everyone else in his life treated him like the spare to the throne he’d always been. Until he was suddenly the heir, and everything had to change.

  And now what did he have?

  Nothing.

  Again.

  Just nothing.

  With a shout, Eryx put his clenched, shaking fists right through the glass of the mirror, shattering most of it as he watched the shards fall to his naked feet on the floor. A shift of his left foot caused one of the pieces to slice the side of his heel, but he didn’t even care.

  He was crying again.

  He hated that more than anything else.

  “I’m sorry,” Mattue said in a whisper behind him. “I know you cared for your mother a great deal, and that—”

  “I want her dead.”

  That quieted the man.

  But only for a moment.

  “Who?”

  Who?

  Such a simple question.

  He could describe the little mermaid in a single breath. How the lines of her face made up the shape of a heart. The fiery shade of her hair. Those wide, haunting violet eyes that matched the color of the skies after a storm had passed. Silken, olive skin.

  Everything.

  Instead, all he said was, “The mermaid. I want her dead.”

  “Will that make you feel better?”

  Eryx laughed.

  The sound was entirely bitter.

  And violent, too.

  Like the urges he felt inside his heart, and how dark his mind turned at the thought of having that mermaid in his hands in that moment. Oh, he’d choke the very life right out of her. Slowly, and all too happily. He couldn’t even be sure she was the one who killed his mother, but she’d dared to come back. She’d stared at him in his pain for just a second too long, and he wanted her to die for it, too.

  “I don’t know if it would make this better, but it would certainly make me happy.”

  Mattue made a noise under his breath. “Perhaps you’re just too angry right now. I don’t think you truly understand what you’re saying, Eryx. All for a … well, I won’t call your mother a slave, but nonetheless, why kill for her? Why do something that might threaten your place—your spot on the throne? You’re irrational.”

  Not at all.

  “I’d give anything to have that mermaid.”

  To kill her.

  “I don’t think you would,” his advisor replied.

  Eryx met the man’s gaze in what remained of the shattered mirror. “Name your price.”

  Because he knew …

  If there was ever anyone in this realm who could see something like this done—capturing that mermaid—it would be Mattue. His reach went farther than the king could possibly know, but Eryx did. And he didn’t mind making a deal for his soul with Mattue to get what he wanted, either.

  “You know what it would cost you,” the man replied quietly. “Your father expects you to take your banishment with dignity and come back to royal life ready to marry and behave. He’s not going to accept anything else from you, Eryx, and if you cause him more issues, but especially where it might concern the people—”

  Right.

  He would be dead.

  “My crown. That’s what it would mean.”

  “—but I wouldn’t mind taking it in your place.”

  Eryx didn’t drop the man’s stare. “You are next in the succession, seeing as how I’ve not produced an heir with a woman yet.”

  Mattue smiled.

  It seemed far too pleased.

  “It appears I am.” Mattue shrugged. “I could find someone to catch your little mermaid … if that’s the deal you want to make, Eryx.”

  Was it?

  He didn’t even need to ask the question of himself, really.

  “It is.”

  In the mirror, he met his own stare. Mattue faded away in the background of the jagged reflection.

  Let the hunt begin.

  SIX

  Eryx

  Three hundred, sixty-two days later …

  THE CLOP-CLOP of the horse’s hooves against the dirt road that led into the West Market’s eastern entrance through the village gave Eryx a good visual of what lie in wait for him. Through the bustling streets filled with villagers selling their goods, from shoddy tables covered like tents with ragged cloths to keep out the elements should a storm arrive without warning, he looked beyond it all to see what was farther out.

  Beyond the market.

  And the square.

  Even the village.

  There, he found the masts of ships reaching toward a rather clear sky. Both of which meant good things not only for him, but these vendors attempting to sell their items to make what money they could before the storm season arrived again. It felt like the last one had gone on for so long that they had barely any good weather at all before they’d been faced with the rapidly changing seasons all over again.

  Did that mean the seasons were shifting? Longer storms, and shorter periods of rest?

  Eryx couldn’t be sure, but if that were the case, he figured it didn’t mean anything good for their realm. As it was, the royal family and the people relied on the season after the storms to be able to properly live.

  He didn’t study the sky or the water. His education before becoming an adult had consisted of understanding royal protocol, reading, writing, and learning the languages of realms which Atlas did business or trades with. He hadn’t needed any further education, according to his father. He simply needed to be a prince.

  And look at me now. What good had all that focus on being the spare done for him? He was still the shunned one.

  Not that Eryx minded those minor details. At the very least, his father’s punishment, which had lasted the majority of the year, had actually come as a bit of a relief for him in a way. He hadn’t needed to concern himself with life at court, the politics of it all, or the theatrics involved with sitting on a throne that, as far as he was concerned, had always been a little too close to his father’s.

  Not to mention, his advisor had managed to do his job over the past year. Mattue made sure Eryx wouldn’t also have to focus on picking a wife, as the king demanded. To be frank, he assumed that was only because doing so would have meant bringing Eryx back to court, so his fath
er could parade women from one end of the realm to the other for the people and his son to appreciate.

  It defeated the purpose of hiding Eryx away.

  “Sir! All your needs are taken care of with what you’ll find on my table. Sickness, age, or—”

  A strong gust of wind came, blowing back the fur-trimmed hood of Eryx’s black, velvet cloak. He turned his head to see the man standing behind a particular booth set in front of a blacksmith’s shop. As soon as the villager’s gaze landed on Eryx atop the horse, he quickly realized who he had been attempting to sell his goods—medicine, likely made by using the blood of mermaids if he had to guess by what was on the table. Although, only a few people in the realm knew how to properly make such things and there were more fakes than there were real in the various markets.

  “Prince,” the man breathed, taking a step back from his table to bow at the middle.

  Eryx nodded at the man, but just as quickly turned his attention to the road ahead. With his cloak’s hood down around his shoulders, and a scarf tightly wrapped around his throat, his face was on more prominent display while he headed farther into the market. If anything, it helped to get him through the bustling streets filled with everything from a woman selling jewelry to another advertising the sale on her gowns by shouting out of a window.

  Chickens wandering the road scattered at the noise of his horse’s hooves beating against the soft ground. A mother was quick to pull her young son—who held onto a small, gray puppy—back from the road when Eryx passed them by as well.

  Like most other people in the market who noticed it was the only remaining prince in Atlas coming through, she lowered into a curtsey, bringing her son along with her. And the same way most of the people wouldn’t hold his stare for very long, the woman did the same while she murmured something Eryx couldn’t hear into her son’s ear.

  Probably the same whispers he’d been hearing for a while.

  The heir …

  Shunned and shamed …

  Yet, the punishment his father intended for him to suffer through had done very little to teach Eryx anything. Nor did it do very much to teach the people, considering they still bowed when he passed and continued to address him as the royal he was to the rest of the realm.

  It seemed to him that he was only a leper to everyone else when they thought he couldn’t hear because publicly, Eryx was still very much the prince he had always been. And since the majority of his days were spent alone where he could enjoy his own thoughts and privacy instead of worry about behaving appropriately for court … well, who had really won here?

  Besides, all this time alone had simply allowed Eryx to focus on the more important things in his current life.

  Like the mermaid.

  And hunting her.

  “And finally, he arrives,” came a familiar call.

  Arriving at the market square was always quite an event, for any number of reasons. The area with the square platform in the very center was the heart of the village and market. Its purpose was never designated to just one thing, but rather, many. Punishment, celebration, or otherwise. Today, it was where Mattue waited with a man who Eryx had only met a handful of times before.

  Dismounting from his horse, but only after the waiting men had greeted him appropriately with a bow and a respectful “Prince,” Eryx handed the reins off to a waiting boy who didn’t linger long enough for the prince to thank him. Not that he minded. Climbing the steps to the square’s platform, Eryx noted how much better he could see the ships waiting at the port just a stone’s throw away from their current position.

  Three ships, to be exact.

  “A nice sight, isn’t it?” the man next to Mattue asked. “I’ve always enjoy seeing them on the water, when the waves aren’t knocking them damn near sideways.”

  Eryx chuckled, shifting in his leather boots before clasping his gloved hands at his middle. “I have to wonder if that might have anything to do with the cost to replace a ship and less to do with the fact you actually care for the vessels.”

  “Bit of both, your highness. A bit of both.”

  “Corval, is it?”

  The man nodded. “That is my name, yes. We haven’t been able to have a proper conversation yet, but Mattue has handled giving me all your directions. No worries on that.”

  Eryx nodded once, turning his attention back to the man. Young, he thought, to be a hunter, given his hair was a stark white blond against the shine of the sun in the sky, and his face held no lines that spoke of age. It seemed the man preferred simple trousers, knee-high leather boots, and linen shirts that weren’t tied at the throat but rather, showed off the man’s dusting of chest hair.

  It all spoke of the style and preference of a young man, and not one with any age or standing who had to care about his appearance. Then again, perhaps it was just easier for the man to dress the way he did, given his job.

  Who was Eryx to judge?

  It wasn’t just the ship captains who made the hunts of the merpeople work, but rather, actual hunters who went out with the ships. Men who planned the hunts with a specific skill set and knowledge of not only the water and land, but of the people beneath the surface of the sea.

  A gust of wind blew through the square, sending dry dust spiraling from the ground. Mattue shook his head at the sight.

  “The winds are starting.”

  Corval grunted his agreement, stepping toward the edge of the platform before glancing over his shoulder. “A sure and good sign the storms will be returning for a spread—only the Gods know how long it’ll last this time around.”

  Then, just as fast, the man jumped down from the platform. A waiting boy with a scruffy hat pulled down over his eyes waited there with a sheathed dagger in one hand, which Corval took with a thanks and a pat on the child’s head.

  “Thanks for holding onto it for me.” He looked over his shoulder, his stare landing firmly on Eryx before the man smiled slyly. “Seven caught in this hunt—care to see if your little mermaid is one of them, Prince?”

  Eryx smirked. “Absolutely.”

  “Lead the way, Corval,” Mattue added.

  The walk to the wharf was rather short and quiet. Neither of which Eryx minded because it allowed him to sink deeper into his thoughts. A place he quite liked to be, considering there wasn’t a soul around him who could possibly understand the things that constantly ran on repeat in his mind.

  Mostly focused on the mermaid …

  If only he could catch her.

  Eryx’s joy at having been told seven merpeople were caught in the latest hunt was quickly ripped away at the sight of the nets hanging from the side of two of three ships at the end of the wharf. Even from a good forty steps away, he could plainly see that three nets held five figures that were far too large and muscular to be female.

  It seemed the males had been left in their nets, and if Eryx had to guess, it probably had something to do with their outbursts and rather active behavior. Not to mention, aggressiveness.

  “Well, I would have been a lot less excited, had you said five of the seven were males,” Eryx grumbled.

  Corval cleared his throat but didn’t bother to glance back at Eryx or Mattue where they continued their trek behind the man. “Yes, well, the females—”

  “I will look at the women.”

  “Of course.”

  “The females always tend to be frightened and quick to comply when needed,” Mattue noted. “And the males … well, it takes a ship full of men to control even one of them.”

  “That depends on several factors, Mattue.”

  “Right.”

  “Like what?” Eryx questioned.

  “Another day,” Corval replied, “and we can discuss those details. For now …”

  He came to a stop next to the one ship without nets hanging off the side with captured mermaids. Instead, Eryx had a plain view of the cages resting on the upper deck that had been moved to the side where they would be rolled down a loading plank.

&n
bsp; It took him all of a glance at the two females inside the cages to know … she had not yet been caught. Yes, one was a redhead, although it wasn’t nearly as bright of a shade as his mermaid. Both had the signature violet eyes that he saw in his dreams—and nightmares—every single time he closed his eyes.

  However, they were not her.

  She’d been burned into his memory. Her image ingrained in the backs of his eyelids, where he was sure it would remain until the day he died. He’d had an entire year to think about the mermaid every single minute of his waking hours, and unfortunately, she seemed to like visiting him in his dreams, too.

  Eryx had a terrible habit of obsessing over the mermaid and what he would like to do to her once he finally captured her. His previous thoughts of a violent end for her life to answer for his mother’s death had morphed into the kinds of visions that could only be described as darkly primal. He had the basest urge to find the merwoman and allow the rage that constantly festered loose as he broke her in every possible way.

  Yes, an obsession was the right word.

  Most certainly.

  Today would not be the day he fulfilled those urges, it seemed.

  “Neither are her,” he murmured.

  He was careful when he spoke not to expose his anger or any other emotion currently pinging around in his heart like a ball that couldn’t be contained. It wouldn’t do him any good for people to see how much a merwoman affected him, especially when he didn’t even have his hands around her fucking throat.

  And that is enough of that.

  “My apologies,” Corval said from his left.

  Eryx shrugged. “Mattue did say it might take a while to find her. I’m learning more about my own patience—and lack of it—during this process.”

  “We have a handful of hunts left in this season if all goes well. The plans are already in the works. Care to have a look?”

  Well, Eryx supposed if he couldn’t have the mermaid now … the next best thing would be engaging in the hunter’s plans to find her.

  “I would care to have a look, yes.”

  Once again, Corval led the way.