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She accepted the fresh goblet of mead. Alia had been all too aware of Captain Talac of the King’s Guard shadowing and watching her every move since she’d made her pronouncement a few hours ago. The look on his face before she’d been swept away by a new partner… it had been priceless. She got the distinct impression that very little shocked or surprised Talac.

Then, to her amusement, the hunter had become the hunted. All too aware of his eyes on her from that moment on. His large frame hovering around the edge of the dance floor, as if he intended to block her way if she chose to run before he could confront her.

Hah, the Beast of Gloomenthrall ran from no one.

Several times Talac had impatiently attempted to muscle his way on to the dance floor, probably with the intent of claiming Alia’s hand for a dance and grilling her for answers. But each time the sheer size of the throng had ejected him back out.

He wasn’t a man who liked being thwarted. The scowl that had settled on his face said as much.

“Thank you.” This time Alia sipped the mead. Taking the opportunity to cast a sly glance in his direction. He was a big man, solid, muscular, enough so that he’d managed to lift and twirl Alia easily out there on the dance floor, and she was no slender twig. And yet, despite his size, he moved easily, always on the balls of his feet like most trained from the cradle master swordsmen did.

He was taller than she. The local children whispered Alia was part giant, she wondered what they would make of Talac’s size at easily six feet and six.

Several female kin had advised Alia in passing that the Captain wasn’t a handsome man. But she thought that was only because they were comparing him to the elegantly pretty Lord De’Luca. Admittedly, Talac’s features were decidedly more blunt. His nose straight and large, but it imminently suited his sharp angular face and square jaw. His hair reminding Alia of her first horse, a chestnut, though Talac’s hair shimmered with additional threads of reds and gold when the light hit it. She was guessing he cut it himself, as it fell in a choppy mess around his ears.

His eyes fascinated her the most. Grey. Dark and stormy one moment. Light and giving hints that dawn was coming the next. His gaze always direct. Talac didn’t appear to be a man who enjoyed games or subterfuge. Yet he had the canny ability to sink easily into the shadows, be still, quiet, patiently waiting for his prey to misstep and then he would pounce, exploiting their momentary weakness.

She’d seen… no, sensed him that night at the Keep when her Father had insisted she put on that silly display of loyalty and announce the upcoming hunt. Talac had been standing deep in the shadows, all but hidden. Yet every nerve ending in Alia’s body had fired. The same kind of feeling that gripped her when she was on the hunt, and sensed her target nearby. She’d been so very… aware of him. It had been rather disconcerting, not knowing whether his presence foretold danger or something more.

Forcing Talac to dance with her had been a test. One that had produced a plethora of intelligence, not all to her liking. Besides the confirmation of his grace and strength, she’d been surprised by the gentleness of his grip on her. And how her skin, even under layers of clothes, prickled where he touched her, as if it were both hot and cold at the same time.

Alia, despite herself, found Talac intriguing. He was not a man who craved admiration or the limelight. Look at what he’d done for Kinnith. She surmised in fact that he much preferred to keep to the shadows. And the only time he ventured out into the light was when the time was right for him to make his kill.

Ah, yes, lifting her gaze, finding those storm grey orbs of his fixed intently upon her. He thought her prey and that he’d cornered her… hah, he’d soon learn she was no easy target.

“You would have me believe you’re the Beast of Gloomenthrall?”

“Yes.”

“Do you transform?”

Alia almost choked on her mead, swallowing with difficulty. “That’s a very strange question.”

“I had heard rumours of fangs and claws.”

“And you make a habit of listening to rumours?”

“Sometimes truths hide amongst stories and rumours. And I note you didn’t exactly answer my question.”

It was so hard to tell whether he was being funny or serious. Then she noted the twinkle in his eyes. He was teasing her? Because he didn’t believe her? Or because he didn’t believe a woman could be the Beast of Gloomenthrall?

With lightning speed Alia held a sharp blade against his jugular. “What do you know, I have claws after all.” Enjoying watching Talac freeze, blinking slowly, calculating this new information that had come his way. Strangely, that twinkle in his eyes glittered a little brighter. Reaching up he slowly, carefully, pushed her hand away. Alia resisting for a split second, snapping her teeth in his direction. “And perhaps I have fangs as well.” Disappearing the knife back in its sheath.

“Madam Beast, it’s a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a skilled hunter.”

He was a unique man. Many would have found a reason to excuse themselves by now and warily make a retreat, not Talac. “I understand you make a living from hunting also, Captain Talac… though your quarry I believe is potential brides for our Prince, is that right?”

“Lord De’Luca is on the hunt, I merely accompany and keep him out of trouble.”

“Is there something wrong with him?”

“Brandth? Besides a love of expensive clothes and thinking he’s always right, I continue to hold the man in high esteem.”

“No, not him. The Prince. Is he simple? Feeble? Ugly? Why can’t he find a bride of his own? You’ve been searching for the right woman for decades… now that he is old, just choose slower candidates, he’s bound to catch one of them eventually.”

The bark of laughter that erupted from Talac was deep and merry. “This is the sixth year of our search, and the Prince isn’t all that old… or simple, feeble or ugly. He’s just busy trying to learn how to manage the Realm and doesn’t have time to search out a bride of his own.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’s much interested in choosing a bride, if you ask me.”