Page 118 of The Hunted

I have to stop writing—here, I get more time with him than at court. Here, he can smell the sea. As long as I ensure he always knows it’s there, he’ll never forget how to find it.

Dt. Orchard Season, Journal of Anthia, Stable Estate, yr 762

“Well?” Arelle asked.

“Did you open it up?” he asked, snapping it shut. He wasn’t ready to flip the next page; had she written in it again that year, or waited until the next? Did she ever hope someone may find it and that was why she left it there, or did she know his love for the estate might bring them back here someday where she could resume her place? He had too many questions to ask, and now the only thing available to answer them was this book in his hands. “Because it seems to be a journal, of sorts.”

“Oh.”

He cleared his throat. “My mother’s.”

Lifting his gaze, Eryx found Arelle had swung around and was staring at him.

“What?”

“Ah, yes, it seems like—”

“My lord. I have just gotten word your father, the king, is nearly here.”

He spun on his heels to find one of the servants had come to stand in the doorway. The man waited for the prince to reply.

The king was coming.

Unannounced.

They needed orders.

Eryx’s hand squeezed tighter to the book in his hand until his knuckles turned white from the pressure. “How long do we have?”

“The scout said he noticed the royal caravan at Rock’s Turn.”

Not long, then.

“He traveled in the storms?” Eryx demanded.

“Apparently, my lord.”

“Eryx?” Arelle asked softly.

There were many reasons his father could be coming. None of them good. He suspected there was only one reason, however.

The woman behind him.

To the servant, Eryx switched into royal mode because he had to. “Ready the house and everyone in it for a proper welcome.”

The man bowed. “Yes, my lord.”

He didn’t wait for more direction; he also didn’t need more.

Then, Eryx turned to Arelle. Her hand reached out, an unspoken request for the item he still held.

“I will put it under your pillow while you man the house—I swear I won’t open it.”

He gripped the book tighter; his mother was a topic he didn’t want to touch with Arelle. Not when it still felt raw, and avoiding it altogether was easier when he looked at her and knew Anthia’s last moments had been in this woman’s presence. He was well aware that no, she had not killed his mother, but the twisted thoughts in his mind made everything far more difficult and complex.

“I—”

“Eryx, I know we haven’t spoken again about your mother, but I am sorry. You were right about one thing—I did see your pain that night. I have apologized for what happened though it wasn’t me who landed the final blow and your mother asked for it nonetheless … but this is not the same. I am sorry you lost your mother. I am sorry you hurt.”