Wicked Hunt

Chapter Ten, Part II

Halle: Alone

She emerged into a dimly lit room with all the charm of a dank cave. A ratty bearskin rug adorned the grated floor that rolled into the stone walls unevenly. There were no paintings in the room, and the only light source was a crooked chandelier that hovered in the center of the space, only three of the eight candles lit. The walls were the colors of ash, the smell just as acrid. Halle's stomach churned as the scent brought back unwelcome memories of her wedding night. She raised her head up and looked down the length of the long wooden table to see her husband and brother chatting. Hector sat beside Adrian, a goblet swirling around in his hand. He was the only one who glanced her way as she shuffled closer. Favoring her with a sly wink, Hector cleared his throat.

Halle focused on Clive, her heart racing. She was expecting to feel fear when he met her gaze with his bored eyes. Instead, she only felt a dull numbness. Her heartbeat slowed, the nerves withdrawing like someone lowering their bow. Without his face paint and antlers, Clive was less menacing. He was no longer some dark beast of the night; now he was simply an old man.

"Sister." Adrian stood and moved around the table. She allowed him to swiftly kiss her cheek. He led her to a chair on the other side of Clive and deposited her there.

"We were just discussing the agreement of the marriage," Clive said. He had favored her with a single glance, then looked back to Hector and Adrian.

"Oh?" Halle asked as she smoothed her dress out. Politics had always been left to the men in Rodantha. She doubted it would be any different in Verlic.

"I was just telling your husband how the men will be sent out as soon as I return to Rodantha. The ten thousand should be more than enough to offer some sort of protection from these western lords you've been telling us about." Adrian inclined his head toward Clive. Halle's husband steepled his long fingers on the table.

"The western cities have hinted at rebellion in the past," he said. "You do us a great service in allowing your men to defend us." His eyes flicked to Halle, and the implication was clear. Clive was using her as a bargaining chip. Halle wasn't that surprised. In fact, she was a little disappointed. For all his declaration of being a stern and powerful king, Clive's antics were rather dull and lacked creativity.

Stop it, she chastised herself. You're still upset about last night. She was angry with herself for allowing this man to make her feel afraid. In the light of dawn, he was no more frightening than an old dog, worn ragged beyond its years. Sitting next to Clive allowed her to see the age spots dancing across the back of his neck, the slight stoop in his shoulders. Halle shifted in her chair. The movement sent the bottom leg scraping loudly across the floor. All eyes turned to her.

"This talk bores her," Clive said with a twitch of his lips. "Either that or its meaning escapes her."

"Your implications are quite clear," Halle said through gritted teeth before she could stop herself. "How fortunate that my brother, Dominic, is the king of Rodantha so he can offer you his army for protection." She felt pride when Clive turned to look at her directly, the first time since she'd entered the room. "Tell me, husband, do you not already have an army? What about the Commander and the King's Watch?"

"Those men," Clive bunched his fingers into tight balls, "dispense the king's justice. They only number around thirty. I would hardly call that an army, girl."

The look of pure disgust he shot her way was the exact same one he'd shown her last night. She recoiled from him, pressing her back into her chair and leaning her body as far away from Clive as possible. A cold sweat slid down her back when his blazing eyes did not leave her face. Her shoulders began to tremble uncontrollably, but Halle fought to keep the movement slight. She would not let Clive see her tremble.

"My sister forgets herself." Adrian glared at Halle around Clive's head. The king unclenched his fists and finally turned back to him.

"She will learn," was all Clive muttered under his breath. Halle was sure that Adrian didn't hear him because he continued speaking smoothly.

"This alliance will be good for both kingdoms. We both know that of the three Trinities, Eldencrest has always been the one to seek utter solitude."

"Indeed." Clive's mouth twitched, puckering like he had tasted something sour. A new excitement suddenly appeared in his eyes at the mention of Eldencrest, but he did not speak to put his eagerness into words. Raw hunger emanated from him.

"Perhaps in the spring, you could venture to Rodantha?" Hector suggested, disrupting the tense air that had somehow settled about them. Halle looked at the table in front of her, her stomach growling. The only thing she saw were withered fruits and cold broth. The bread looked stale and unappetizing. She pressed her lips together.

"For what purpose?" Clive asked stoically, and Hector flinched slightly. He exchanged a troubled glance with Adrian, who cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

"For the games of course."

"I've no use for games," Clive retorted haughtily.

"The arena games," Adrian tried again, flustered. Clive yawned, and Adrian sighed impatiently. Hot annoyance flared up within Halle's chest. Here was a wicked man, a man who hurt her and debased her. He was cold and unfeeling as ice. He did not care for her. She doubted he had ever cared about anything except power and control. Yet, her brother and Hector were trying so desperately to impress him. Throwing Rodantha's famed arena games out to him as if it were some feathery toy and he were a great cat. The enticements fell flat. Clive paid them no mind. He only understood brutality. He did not deserve the attention they smothered him with.

"I have heard of them," Clive offered flatly, and Adrian smiled.

"Great feats of strength and battle," Hector exclaimed, waving his hand for emphasis. His brown curls danced with enthusiasm. "Death matches as well," he added when Clive looked bored.

"You may choose a champion and see him to victory," Adrian said. Clive still looked unconvinced.

"Perhaps you haven't the stomach for it?" Halle couldn't help but ask. Her anger had bubbled and seeped over. The cruel glower Clive threw her way made her skin crawl.

"That's twice now," he told her with mock casualness. His voice was barely above a whisper. Her anger evaporated instantly, and she could have kicked herself. She raised her chin to continue the act of imperviousness. She held his narrowed gaze with her own rigid one.

Suddenly, Clive's chair flew back as he stood. It tipped clean over and fell on its back. He was upon her, before she had time to yelp, grasping her wrist so tightly his large hand felt as if it could easily have snapped it in two. She felt like a twig in a monster's claws. She tried to yank her hand away, but he tugged her closer. She flew to him like a rag doll. Her chair creaked and scraped across the dry floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adrian turn away, embarrassed pink streaking his cheeks. Hector stood up.

"I think that's quite enough," he said, elbowing Adrian, who got to his feet now too.

"Let her go, Clive," Adrian hissed. Her husband's grip loosened, and Halle snatched her hand back. A crooked smile broke out across Clive's harsh features. He bent and tipped his chair back upright.

"Women," he scoffed, and Adrian chuckled uneasily.

"I think I'll be leaving," Halle declared, cradling her throbbing wrist and scurrying from the table. With her back to him, hot tears dribbled from her eyes.

The door was slammed behind her before anyone could protest.