The air in the Great Hall grew thick with the metallic tang of suspense, a heavy, suffocating pressure that seemed to push the oxygen right out of Robert's lungs.
Drelon, Thorn's primary lieutenant—a man whose human facade was marred only by the unnatural, vertical slits of his pupils—stepped forward. He spoke to Robert with a forceful wave of his hand.
"Drop the cargo, human," Drelon hissed.
Robert, his muscles screaming and his ribs throbbing, had no choice. He let the shivering, naked mermaid slide from his back. She hit the cold floor with a soft gasp, curling into a ball of pale limbs and teal hair, trying to vanish into the shadows of the pillars.
Before Robert could even draw a full breath, Drelon's hand shot out, gripping Robert's collar and dragging him toward a low, stone plinth near the center of the hall. With a brutal shove, Drelon forced Robert's right hand onto the cold surface, splaying his fingers wide.
