Page 130 of The Hunted

“Where?” Arelle asked.

Kisa, her one companion throughout the long travel, gave her a shrug from the side. “At the Atlas court.”

Oh.

How long had she been lost in her mind, listening for a man who had stopped calling for her throughout the night before?

“Open the gates!”

The shouted order accompanied the jerking of their carriage as the creak of iron echoed. Arelle pulled back the draping on the window in just enough time to see them pass a large gate with a cursive B prominent in the middle.

Bloodhurst.

The sky was still black with circling clouds and the occasional streak of lightning. The clouds moved too fast for her to think the storm would be ending soon, but the wind had died down, and the rain came lighter than the days before.

It was apparently enough, however, for the landwalkers to feel safe, as the court square leading to the looming castle moved through the yard freely and unconcerned. She could easily distinguish the wealthy from the poor because those with any status had someone to hold a covering over them to protect from the rain, and the others did not.

The square appeared to be a market of sorts, too, with vendors selling everything from fruit to jewelry. And yet, the chaotic court square seemed to come to a complete stop as a call rang out from the carriage drivers in their caravan.

“Royal caravan. Move out of the way! It’s the royal caravan!”

Arelle was almost fascinated by the way the people stopped everything they were doing to turn and watch the caravan of carriages move through the square. Women pulled children out of the way, and held tight to them as though they were scared they might dart forward. A few dared to check the windows of the passing carriages, but she wasn’t sure if any of them even noticed her staring back.

The sight of the little ones with their mothers or siblings had Arelle smiling—the one bright spot in everything else about this situation that was horrid. Yes, she had three sisters of her own growing up, but they were the exception to the rule in their colony. Her father only had as many children as he did because he was king. Most refused to mate—though many took close companions—and have children because of exactly what happened to Poe.

“I have never seen so many children,” Arelle said softly.

Mostly to herself.

Kisa still heard her.

“You know, I hear there are places in this world that mermaids can mate and produce freely without fear of capture,” Kisa said thoughtfully. “What a dream that would be for us all.”

Except nothing was free here.

Especially not them.

The remainder of the ride through the court square was quiet. People followed the caravan all the way to the entrance of the castle where they pulled the horses and carriages beneath the safety of a stone enclave.

It was only once their carriage had stopped and a guard appeared at the door the driver pulled open that Kisa and Arelle stood. She followed Kisa’s lead, figuring the merwoman knew much more about what to expect or do than she did. Surprisingly, the guard held keys to remove the shackles at her wrist and ankles. He discarded the metal before allowing her to exit the carriage.

No one helped her down.

She was fine with that.

Arelle was careful to watch her step, still rubbing the ache in her wrists from the bite of metal, and by the time she raised her head to survey what was around her, she realized everyone was staring at her. Everyone.

It was a strange feeling.

To be surveyed.

Appraised, even.

Some appeared unsure by her presence. Others looked quite pleased that she stood there, for whatever reason.

The galloping of hooves pulled their attention away from her for just long enough that Arelle felt like she might be able to breathe. The man on the horse passed the rear carriages and even theirs, before halting a few steps away from where the king currently stood with Mattue. The advisor she hadn’t trusted from the moment she laid eyes on the man.

“Well?” the king asked.