The King.
He was trying to kill him, perhaps skin him.
Riven's emerald eyes widened. The man's hunting gear gleamed faintly in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. He sat tall and poised on his horse, bow raised, every movement precise, and aimed to kill him in one shot. The same hands that had once rested gently against Riven's hair, now gripping the weapon that sought to end him.
Riven wanted to stop. He wanted to call out, to beg him to see past the beast, to recognise him.But even through the ringing in his ears, he heard the King's voice, proud, cold, and final.
"I'll win this hunt and reclaim my honour."
Riven's body trembled. He did not have the time to think, he held the belief that the King did not know it was him. He held that belief close to his heart because even after everything that had happened, everything the King did to him, and everything Theresa told him, he knew. He knew that the King would not kill him.
