Page 126 of The Hunted

It was apparent by the lack of breath, and the tongues lolled out of their mouth. Their eyes were open, staring dead at the wall where they had died in a bed of hay.

“Are all of them dead?” he asked.

Mattue chuckled coolly. “Every single one. Seems they still enjoy their little bits of fruit. Don’t even question it, even if the first taste is a little bitter. We’ll blame that on the poison powder I sprinkled on them. Don’t worry, it was quick, my lord. I know you fancied the beasts.”

Eryx spun a fast circle, eyeing the stalls and realizing something else. They were missing horses—at least a dozen.

His father’s horses.

“Where—”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Mattue interjected. “What was it you told your father you wanted?”

Gods.

His chest ached.

“This estate,” Eryx murmured. “I wanted this estate, and the House of Miller, too.”

“Things that were mine. Much like the crown your father wears upon his head.”

“Those properties were appointed to you by the crown, but they didn’t belong to you.”

“Mmm, same difference, no?”

“Where are the royal horses?”

Mattue sighed, shifting on the stool a bit and crossing one ankle over his knee. “Gone from the estate right about now, I imagine. See, we came here with intention and a plan. We will leave here with the same, Prince.”

“What have you done?”

The man stood, letting his cloak fall around him and fixing the ring on his middle finger as he smiled at Eryx. “I did warn you.”

“You bastard.” Eryx lurched forward, the threat already falling from his lips. “I will kill—”

Before he could reach Mattue, the man swooped down, grabbed the stool, and then swung it high. The wood crashed against the metal holding the flickering candles. They spilled to the floor, catching dry hay and sending flames licking across the floor to Eryx’s boots.

He took three quick steps back.

On the other side of the fire, Mattue continued smiling. “I never did like the way they kept these stalls—always too much hay and dryness everywhere, with all these candles. Let it burn, Eryx, it’ll be an easy way to dispose of the horses.”

The heat climbed higher.

“Oh, and the king wanted a message passed along,” the advisor added.

Eryx didn’t reply.

Mattue didn’t seem to care when he said, “All slaves are the possession of the king, and as such, he can remove whichever one he pleases to keep in his personal collection. Your slave has been confiscated to the crown of Bloodhurst. She will not be returned.”

A shuddering exhale left his lips, and when he sucked in a breath, all he could taste was death and fire. “You’ve made a grievous error, Mattue. One I will make you pay for dearly.”

“She’s only a slave—you’ll find another. Your father always did.”

Except he was not his father.

Arelle was not his mother.

The flames licked higher, making shadows dance on the walls and ceiling. He didn’t have long before the embers sparked a bigger fire in one of the stalls.