Wicked Hunt

Chapter Two, Part II

Halle: A Court Of Ice

"Now, get out," the king announced harshly. The three men stood with their arms behind their backs, swaying slightly at the coldness with which Clive spoke to them. He turned to the Commander pointedly, and he stepped toward them with narrowed eyes. Everything about him was sharp, unfailing. Halle tried to look away but found she could not.

"Leave us," Clive continued. Halle shivered, feeling the icy pinpricks of the king's gaze now settling on her. The bravery she felt from stealing into the room flickered, refusing to be blown out by his coolness. She doubted she'd talk back to him but still the heat remained. A beat. Then, she took a shaky breath and looked up to her husband to be. He was glowering at her or perhaps that was how he looked at everyone. She wondered if his hard face ever cracked into a smile. Did he mean for her to leave? Or was he speaking to the Commander?

The door was shut heavily. The men gone. Only she, Clive, and Maddox remained. Would the old medic be kind to her? Was everything so damned harsh in this place? She swallowed.

"I-" she began, but another voice cut through her words like a shard of ice. He was still in the room, slinking back to the king. She had not even heard his footsteps. She had thought he had exited with his men.

"A serving girl, Your Grace, has found her way into the throne room. She saw the ritual and knows who the new men are." The Commander stopped pacing in front of the king. He crossed his arms crudely, not even giving her anymore of his attention. Another threatening beat of silence.

Then, Maddox through back his head and chuckled jovially. His deep laugh seemed to echo mockingly around them, bouncing from the walls and reverberating off Clive's throne. Clive rolled his eyes, and the Commander blinked.

"Rafe," the king said heavily. He stood with reluctance. His enormous size, which had been effaced by the thick furred cloak settling around his shoulders, was now on full display. He flung it around dramatically. Halle was sure it was more for some show of power rather than fashion. His hawk-like face was cast in shadow, and he was revealed to her slowly. Piercing blue eyes glanced down to watch the steps as he descended his throne, and leathery wrinkles sat about the cerulean orbs. Everything about Clive was weathered, as if he'd stood on a cliff during a storm. He was hardened and stark, a lone bear sitting atop his prized throne inside a cave made of the bones of his enemies.

He waved his hand impatiently for Halle to step closer. Her throat instantly went dry. She hesitated but then thought better of it. Clive was not the sort of man you refused or kept waiting. With sweaty palms, she inched slightly closer. Impatiently, he snatched her hand, making her gasp as she was tugged to his side. He rotated her around, and she faced the Commander.

"Princess Halle Laurel only arrived last night," Clive announced.

"While I was away," Commander Walsh inclined his head to her. His lips were pursed tightly. He apparently did not like to make mistakes. "My apologies, Your Grace. I did not know." His head was lowered sharply. Whatever his other flaws were, he was not disrespectful to royalty.

Clive looked at Halle expectantly. Her throat was the driest it had ever been in her twenty-two years of life. She bit her lip. "All is well," she murmured, hating herself for how her voice trembled. A swift glance at the king showed Clive wearing an amused smirk.

"Commander Walsh is one of my most trusted subjects," he told Halle. "He commands the King's Watch, the roaming group of soldiers that patrol Verlic."

Halle nodded meekly. "My brother, Adrian spoke highly of the men on our journey here, Your Grace." That was a lie. Her brother had sought to pick apart the Watch, desiring a private conference with the Commander to ask him about the realm's security measures. He had been disappointed to learn the man was not there last night, out with the new recruits.

"Ah," Clive's smile widened, his eyes slanting toward the man before them, "you see that? Your men are still revered." He leaned closer to Halle and nodded in the Commander's direction. "He's always going on and on about how he needs to make sure his men are controlled and orderly. It's a bit of an obsession, isn't it Rafe?"

The Commander focused intently on the floor as if his life depended on studying the cracks. His jaw clenched. "Those who serve the realm should be disciplined." He looked up, catching Halle's eye and stealing her breath. "We serve to protect," he stepped closer to her, and a chill slid down her spine, "and I can promise you, Your Grace, you will be well protected here." Halle couldn't move under the intensity of his gaze. Where before, he had seemed like a shard of ice, now, when he stared into her eyes, he was a blazing fire. The heat radiating from him threatened to scorch her skin.

A charming sentiment." Clive waved Commander Walsh away, and he stepped back, allowing Halle's breath to return. "I can assure you; my men are not all this serious." He glanced back at the Commander. "Rafe is a rare breed." The king stopped smiling, his eyes focusing on Commander Walsh. "A rare breed indeed."

I can see that. Halle's eyes slid down his hard body, her cheeks flushing with the sudden warmth seeping into them. Get a grip! she chastised. There was something dark and dangerous about this Commander. From afar, it had been easy to keep her eyes off him to give into the fear, but up close... with him standing right in front of her... she was drawn to him for some reason.

Suddenly, a scratchy throat clearing cut through the room. Maddox inched forward, curiously. Halle had completely forgot the old man was in the room. No doubt he had been hanging back, watching the soon to be queen make an utter fool of herself.

"I believe, the princess's brother and her emissary wished to speak with Rafe," he said with a bow to Clive. "It is getting late, and the torches need to be lit, Your Grace."

"Very well," Clive remarked. He swung his cloak around and strode toward the door, abandoning Halle. As if remembering her, the king turned back around. "I shall send a maid to your room."

Halle lowered her eyes in agreement, and Clive left. Blessedly, the Commander followed him out into the hallway without a second glance.