Page 132 of The Hunted

The woman took in her gown. “Well, you’ll wear a lot less.”

That wouldn’t have bothered Arelle any other time. She hated the restrictive clothing, anyway, but she suspected the reason for the lack of clothing here was more for ease of access and less about style or personal choice.

Sheer robes waited on a chaise inside a room Kisa walked to as though it belonged to her. With a large bed dominating the middle of the space, and the personal touches including a set of paints setting near an easel beside a barred window, Arelle knew …

“This is your room?” she asked.

“One of the largest. You’re favored, you receive more. You cause issues, you are removed entirely, and your next home won’t be as kind or rich.”

She thought about someone else, then.

About Poe.

“Is there … my sister, Poe. She was captured and—”

Kisa’s gaze snapped to hers. “Let’s hope you fare better than she did.”

Did that mean her sister was no longer alive?

Or something else?

Kisa picked up one of the two robes and held it out for Arelle to take. She hesitated, and the other woman didn’t miss it. “It’s past hunting season—it’ll take a while for them to get the man here who will fit you for your permanent collar, and the one who will come to clip your toes.”

For the first time, Arelle glanced down. Sure enough, Kisa’s pinky toes were gone in her sandal-like shoes.

“Once you are considered safe,” Kisa continued, not at all bothered by Arelle’s staring, “the king may call on you to please him. But not before they’ve ensured you’ll neither hurt him nor run.”

Arelle swallowed hard. “I—”

“The pool is where most of us gather. It’s warm and the salt in the water keeps us comfortable and sane. Steam rolls through it constantly. Don’t cause a problem, and there won’t be a problem, Princess. That is how we survive here.”

She met the merwoman’s gaze.

“You don’t have to call me that,” she said quietly.

Kisa nodded. “Perhaps not, but understand, it would be wise for you to make the rest of them think they should. For your own good, I assure you.”

Well, then …

Arelle would keep it in mind.

All the while, her heart continued to break.

Where are you, Eryx?

THIRTY-ONE

Eryx

“WHAT BRINGS YOU to my doorstep in this weather, my lord?”

Eryx smirked at the man sitting across the table from him before tipping the goblet in his hand up for a good swig of the ale waiting inside. He had to give the guy credit—he said nothing about the fact that the prince was dripping wet, and undoubtedly ruining the very expensive rug beneath the table.

But frankly, if Eryx were being honest, he knew exactly why the man across from him wasn’t quite sure what to say or make of the prince’s presence. This had not been in any of the agreements the two of them made.

Corval had never expected to see him again.

That was the deal.