Hunted(30)

But, he didn’t care. Or so he’d told himself. He was far above letting his father hurt him anymore.

“Your mother said you want to learn to run the family business, to run the mine.”

Patrick squared his shoulders to face his father. He’d expected his father’s doubt. “Yes, sir. My governess says I have a talent for mathematics, sums especially. I can do them in my head. I’d like to know more about our silver mine. I think I could help.”

His father laughed ruthlessly. The kind of laughter saved for something truly humorous. It was callous and cold with sarcasm. Patrick held in his emotions, as usual. His father’s laughter was the kind that could only hurt.

“You don’t deserve to work for my business.”

His business. Even with the Gaines family name on it.

Patrick remembered what happened next as clearly as if it happened that morning.

“Come here,” his father had said.

Patrick’s feet didn’t move.

“I said, come here, lad!” his father shouted, pale face reddening. His drink sloshed over the rim of his glass. His father cursed, shaking the liquid from his hand. Patrick shuffled forward, eyes staring down at the rug his mother had helped to weave.

His father grabbed him by his arm, pulling him closer Drunken, angry eyes shoved right into Patrick’s face.

“You don’t deserve a fecking thing, lad. You deserve only what I give you and what I tell you to have. Don’t you ever ask me for a thing if you want me to spare your life!” He raised his hand for a swing---

“GENERAL! GENERAL!”

The boisterous chant rattled Patrick’s eardrums making him wince—and shoved him back into reality.

Sweat dripped in beads down his back, sliding like worms. Patrick grimaced and palmed his cane in a tight grip before continuing on down the hall. Focused on the present once more, his father shoved back into the tiny memory compartment he kept him in, Patrick finally found the secluded men’s dressing room where Ryon was to be waiting before the ceremony.

It was located at the far eastern corner of the arena. It looked like Lysse had given him good information after all. He’d had doubts…you couldn’t trust a con artist, after all. And Lysse was one of the best. It looks like his threat had worked.

The guards outside the dressing room merely spotted Patrick’s fine clothes, and let him pass. Probably thinking he was with the king or here to claim Penelope for himself. Which he was, just under his own terms.

Patrick grinned slyly as made his way to the room. He had plans for Ryon and that included using his sword point. At most, he planned to injure the general before the official proceedings began upstairs. From there, he had other plans. If he couldn’t beat the general in fisticuffs, then he had to find a way to win. Hence, his business here.

Outside the door to the general’s room, all was calm. The guards waited at the end of the hall to keep any from entering. There was no other entrance or exit in the hall, save for Ryon’s room.

Patrick pressed his ear to the door. After a moment, he heard a rustling noise confirming someone in the room. Tightening his grip on his cane, Patrick turned the handle, stepped inside the room, and closed the door in one smooth move.

It took only a moment to tell something was wrong.

The lights were off, encasing the room in complete darkness. Patrick squinted into the black shadows. He heard a noise. Ryon must be in here.

“General?” He silently unsheathed his sword. The leather interior lining had been designed to give him silence as he withdrew his blade. He’d learned long ago that the element of surprise could save your life.

Patrick moved along the wall, keeping a bookcase to his back as he came upon it, barely. In here he could just make out the crying cheers of the audience waiting for the brawl upstairs.

The smell struck him first. It was pungent with a hint of rotten eggs. Frowning, his brow furrowed, Patrick struggled to decipher what that smell was.

A floorboard creaked. Patrick nearly jumped out of his skin. It was only feet away. Close. He thrust his blade in the direction of the noise, feeling suddenly…frightened.

That smell…the dark…what was going on here?

A crackling, animal snarl. Almost too soft to catch. It came from his left, not in front of him this time. He swung his blade left in a sweeping arc.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” If this was Ryon playing with him, Patrick didn’t know if he could stop himself from killing him at this point. His heart was pounding, every fearful beat accompanied by a bead of sweat down his back.

That crackling, like a…

Patrick stiffened as the scent, or, rather, scents, hit him. It wasn’t a just a pungent, sulpher odor he smelled. The odor was, in fact, two scents, he realized. With the scents categorized in his mind, Patrick felt a deadly awareness overcome him.