The Great Pursuit Page 7

  Aerity swallowed hard and nodded. Oh, seas. What had she gotten them into?

  “Good. Now follow me, Miss Callie, and have no fear.”

  Chapter

  7

  Dearest Mother and Father,

  I am in need of time to myself before my marriage takes place. I am leaving of my own accord and I swear to return. There is no need to alarm the kingdom. Perhaps it is best if no one knows of my absence outside the family. It is not my intention to cause you to panic or worry, though both are likely imminent. It is my sincere hope that you will someday forgive me. Please do not use your army to search for me. They are of more use searching for the enemy and keeping our people safe. I have a solid plan in place for myself.

  In respect and love,

  Your first daughter, Aerity

  Dearest Vixie,

  As far as adventures go, I can think of no one I’d rather have at my side than you. Please don’t think I’m on a grand journey without you. This time will clear my head and put a lid on the things of my past that I cannot afford to take with me into my marriage and future. I promise to regale you with anything of interest that may happen during my time away from you, but in all honesty I’m hoping for an uneventful quest to embrace the woman I need to be. I will return to you very soon.

  In the meantime, you are the princess of the castle. Enjoy.

  With all my heart,

  Your sister, Aerity

  Vixie must have read the letter a hundred times. Blast that Aerity! How could she leave like that? Without telling her? Without a good-bye? Uneventful adventure or not, Vixie could have helped. She would have been willing to act as her maid if that’s what it would have taken to get herself out of this confining castle and into the wild lands beyond.

  Ugh! Vixie crumpled the paper and threw it at her bed. It hit far too softly. Jealousy and hurt and absolute boredom fought against her better nature.

  She’d been left to deal with a mother driven mad by worry and a father who wanted to tear Eurona apart to find his oldest daughter. Vixie had squeezed her way into the family meeting that morning next to Wyneth. Her cousin could feign doe-eyed innocence all she wanted, but Vixie was no fool. Wyneth knew—Aerity would have told her everything. She’d stared hard at Wyneth during the meeting until Wyn gave her a sharp elbow in the ribs when no one was looking. Aye, so guilty, that one.

  The final verdict from her father was to wait until they heard back from Lieutenant Gillfin, who had been on night watch the prior evening. His men said he left to check on activity at the guest stables, and the royal guards at the gate told of a dark-haired maid who passed through late during the night. Harrison came to the gates, asked who had just left, and told the guards he had suspicions about the young woman and was going to follow her.

  “Lieutenant Gillfin has known Aerity all his life,” the king explained. “And his instincts are strong. I believe he saw her from afar on his night watch and suspected it was her. It is my hope that he will find her and talk sense into her, or return her by force.”

  It all seemed highly suspicious to Vixie, Harrison being a longtime friend of Aerity’s and all. But their father spoke of him as the utmost professional. If anyone can keep her safe, it’s Lieutenant Gillfin, blah, blah, blah. In the meantime no one outside of the family and royal guards shall know she is missing. I’ve never been more ashamed . . . worst possible timing, blah, blah, blah.

  Honestly, Vixie tired of his rant and began daydreaming, envisioning Aerity gallivanting about the lands, her hair blowing behind her, free as can be. The lucky cow.

  Wyneth had shot from the room the moment the meeting ended, leaving Vixie unable to question her.

  Well, fine. If Aerity could rebel, then Vixie could break a few rules as well. She would go to the stables and ride, despite her father’s warnings. The second beast had been killed and guards swarmed the royal lands. Other than Aerity’s “disappearance,” things were uneventful at that moment. They’d appeased the madwoman’s first demand, but Vixie knew more was to come. She had to take advantage of the peace and quiet now while she could. So Vixie changed into riding clothes, already cheered at the idea of seeing her horse, Ruspin.

  Four guards flanked her as she stepped from the castle into the chilly air. That was two more guards than usual. Her father probably put an extra watch on her in case she tried to follow her sister.

  He knew her well.

  As Vixie neared the royal stables she spotted men over at the guest stalls. At the sight of a lad with his brown hair pulled back neatly at the nape of his neck, she put a hand against her stomach . . . everything inside her stopped dead and then began to dance.

  “Tiern!” Vixie ran.

  Her guards shouted from behind her—“Princess!” “Your Highness!”—as they chased, but she ignored them.

  Tiern’s cocoa-brown eyes widened when he saw her, then became alarmed at the flock of guards running behind her. But she flung herself into his arms anyhow, laughing.

  His hands touched her back for one second before a guard yelled, “Hands to yourself, lad!”

  Tiern’s hands went straight up, and he chuckled. “All right, then. No touching.”

  “He’s one of the hunters,” Vixie reminded the guards, releasing him. “Don’t you remember?” She beamed up at Tiern, but his attention kept shifting to the men, two of whom had drawn their swords.

  Vixie stepped away from him and put her hands on her hips. “He’s perfectly harmless. You can put away your weapons.” Then she turned back to Tiern and waved a hand at the guards as if he should pay them no mind.

  Again he chuckled nervously, unable to ignore the men as easily as the princess, but after a moment he seemed to focus on Vixie and relax.

  “What brings you back to royal lands?” she asked.

  “I received a message from Lord Alvi and Lieutenant Gillfin about another beast, but I heard on my way here that it had been killed. Still, I thought I should come in case I’m needed again. I’ll most likely stay at an inn at the local village until things settle down and the Rocato woman is found.”

  “Nonsense.” Vixie couldn’t stop smiling. “I shall see about getting you a room in the guest quarters of the castle!”

  His eyebrows rose. “But—”

  “Come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him past the glaring guards, who followed closely. When one cleared his throat menacingly, Tiern dropped her hand and gave a bashful shrug.

  “This place is nearly deserted,” Tiern noted as they passed the market.

  “Aye,” Vixie said sadly. They slowed their pace and walked side by side. “The markets reopened today, but as you can see only half of the normal trade tables are occupied, and even less than half of the normal customers have shown. Everyone is afraid since a Lashed One killed a woman in front of the castle . . . and of course there was the second beast.”

  Tiern nodded. “Tell me of it.”

  Vixie told Tiern all that had happened in his absence until they stopped at the west steps of the castle. She desperately wanted to tell him about Aerity, but the guards were standing too close, and she wasn’t supposed to speak of it to anyone outside the family.

  The doors swung open and they looked up to see Lord Alvi. The breeze blew his hair back and he stuck out his chest to take in the fresh air. Vixie held back a giggle as his eyes lowered to her, then Tiern, and narrowed.

  “Ah, if it isn’t the Seabolt lad.” Lord Alvi came down the steps, and the guards backed slightly away, a show of their respect for the man.

  He and Tiern made a show of grasping hands and clutching each other’s forearms.

  “I haven’t seen you or your brother since that fateful day,” Lord Alvi said in a low tone.

  Tiern’s face became hard and serious. “Aye.”

  “Any word from him?” Lord Alvi asked.

  “Nay.” Tiern’s eyes faltered to Vixie and then looked out at the sea. She swore she saw pain in those depths, and it made her ache for him. Something had
happened with his brother, but nobody would tell her. Aerity loved the older lad Pax; of that she was certain. And he’d fled when he lost her hand to the Ascomannian lord. Vixie hated that it had to be that way. Tragic.

  Lord Alvi’s voice lowered. “How many are there like him in your family?”

  Tiern went rigid, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “No others.”

  “Like him?” Vixie asked. “What do you mean by that?”

  Lord Alvi looked surprised, as if he had forgotten she was there. “Nothing, Your Highness. I’m joking with the lad.” He grinned and patted Tiern hard enough on the back to push him forward a few inches. Tiern gave a tight smile.

  Had Lord Alvi been calling Paxton a coward? Saying it ran in the family? She refused to let him give Tiern a hard time. “Let’s go inside and see about getting you a room,” Vixie said. She moved forward, but Tiern’s voice stopped her.

  “I’m not certain this is necessary, Princess. I don’t want to be a bother.” He stole a glance toward Lord Alvi, who had crossed his arms over his chest and watched the two of them with interest.

  “No bother at all,” she said. “Just follow me.”

  “Aye,” Lord Alvi said to him. “It will be good to have another hunter around.”

  She turned and walked toward the steps, unease wringing her gut. Something was going on here that she wasn’t privy to, and she intended to find out.

  Chapter

  8

  Paxton’s eyes shot open in the darkened tent where he slept with the other Lochlan man, Konor. He listened intently, trying to discern what had woken him. Konor’s light snores were all he could hear now. His skin felt sticky from the perpetual moisture in the warm air. He sat up and crouched at the tent’s opening, peering out.

  All he saw was darkness and trees, but his instincts were buzzing with alertness. As he turned to get his bow, something cold and metallic gripped his arm with force and yanked him. He yelled and swung out with his other arm, only to have it grabbed as well. He was held in a way that his hands could not touch anything.

  He tried to fight, kicking at air and twisting his torso, until his eyes adjusted and he saw people stepping out slowly from the trees, with bows raised at him. One of them, a slight hooded figure with swaying hips, moved forward until she was feet away from him. She lifted back the hood and shook out her dark hair. Paxton’s lungs squeezed at the sight of Rozaria Rocato. Her eyes squinted and then widened as she stared at Paxton. A smile spread across her face.

  “Tell me, hunter,” she said, and his hopes sank, “what brings you to Kalor?”

  Deep seas . . . she recognizes me from that brief encounter on that bloody island. Ideas fired through his mind until one stuck. He thought she was probably too smart to believe him, but it was worth a try.

  “Look at my hands and you will have your answer.”

  Her eyes skimmed over to his fingertips and back to his face. “You took part in murdering my favorite beast.”

  “I was there, aye. I intended to collect King Lochson’s prize and instate some changes from the inside. But then that fool from the coldlands got to the creature first.”

  She studied him. “You would have married the girl and kept your true identity hidden in shame?”

  “Not shame. Necessity. Until the king was dead and my Lashed blood was incorporated into the royal bloodlines.”

  Rozaria chuckled. She slowly raised her hand to Paxton’s face and he flinched, cursing himself at the fear of her warm hand on his jaw. Without looking away from him she gave an order to her men. “Search their tents. Take any weapons.”

  Curses . . . his bow and daggers!

  Rozaria cocked her head, that grin of mild amusement and power still on her lips. “You fear me.” Her finger ran from under his ear to down his jawline.

  By now, Konor and the Torestan campers were out of their tents, standing huddled together at sword point watching the spectacle.

  Rozaria’s hands drifted downward to the knot at the neck of Paxton’s tunic. She untied it, exposing his chest. Paxton’s arms flexed and the men held him tighter. They wore some sort of metal gloves with woven links that pinched his skin.

  “What is your name?” Her hands went around his throat and slid down to the tops of his shoulders, under the fabric of his tunic.

  He closed his eyes, controlling every urge to fight off her men. “Paxton Seabolt.”

  “Mm. Tell me, Paxton Seabolt . . .” Her hands trailed down to his chest and her palms flattened against his skin. “Where do your loyalties lie? Do not attempt to deceive me.”

  He tried to calm his heart as he opened his eyes, knowing this beautiful, malevolent face could be the last thing he would ever see.

  “My loyalties lie with myself.” Her palms pressed down and heated at his response. Suddenly, he could not take in air or exhale. Depths of the seas, she’s controlling my lungs! His chest and throat began to sting with the need to breathe, his heart beating too hard. And all the while she stared calmly up into his eyes. He could feel his face darkening as he dug his heels into the ground.

  Rozaria’s hands cooled and eased up. Air poured into Paxton’s lungs and he gasped, slumping forward in the men’s grasp. After a few cleansing breaths his energy returned and he stood taller, facing down the woman and straining against the arms that held him. He could not afford to show fear.

  “Will you make an enemy of me, Rozaria? When I am here to join you?”

  Her eyes widened, seemingly thrilled by his anger.

  “My loyalties have never been with the royals of Lochlanach.” He allowed his old fury against the king to rise within him, though he couldn’t seem to reach the level of rage he’d once felt, even given his circumstances. He blamed Aerity for that. He’d have to fake it. His voice rose to a shout. “What have they ever done for me? Because of them my grandmother died an untimely death, never allowed to be the person she was created to be! I refuse to let that happen to me.”

  Her hands lowered. “Tell me why you have come here, Paxton Seabolt.”

  “Because only you can help me achieve my goal of freedom. I want to return home someday. But I can no longer live without magic. Not since I’ve tasted it for myself. I refuse to forgo my health and die young because of a fool’s old laws.”

  She grinned, a stunning upward curve of her reddened lips. “Lovely words, indeed. But I shall be keeping a close eye on you, hunter.”

  “I expected nothing less. But I will prove myself to you.”

  She searched Paxton’s face. Seeming satisfied, she nodded to her men and they released him. Paxton shook out his arms, a scowl on his face. It was imperative he earn her trust if he was to infiltrate her ranks, but he didn’t know what it would take to prove himself to the madwoman. One thing was for certain though—he’d do damn near anything to keep Aerity safe.

  Chapter

  9

  Aerity had been so determined not to be a spoiled, pampered ninny, but the cold was truly more than she’d bargained for. The first night she’d kept warm from sheer excitement, and it had only been several hours until daybreak when the sun would warm her again. The second night when the sun dropped and the chill hit, the excitement wore down, now as thin as her commoner clothing. Still, she refused to complain.

  They’d ridden thirteen hours, passing through the shallowest part of Eurona River, which still soaked their legs. Each time they’d passed travelers on the path, Aerity had been terrified, but nobody had taken much notice of them. They’d stopped to change out of their wet clothing and eat, but a chill had set over Aerity.

  Harrison, seas love him, took one look at her crouched over on the horse, hugging one arm across her middle, and stopped in his tracks. He leaned over and felt her cloak.

  “Is this the warmest thing you’ve got?”

  “Aye. A thicker cloak would have drawn attention.”

  He pulled a bound blanket from his horse’s pack and handed it to her. “Wrap this around yourself. And take these.” H
e tossed her a pair of fingerless gloves. Regular gloves were frowned upon due to fears of people hiding lash marks.

  “Won’t you need them?” He’d changed into commoner clothing the night before.

  “Nay.” He pulled a stocking cap over his head, covering his ears. “This’ll do the trick for me.” He gave a carefree grin that made Aerity’s heart ache with a moment of reminiscence. How many times had he given her that comfortable grin over the years?

  “Thank you, Harrison. Thank you for doing this. I know you have a lot to lose if you’re found out—”

  “Nay, dear Callie.” He squeezed her hand and let go, facing forward again. “I fear these days I have nothing at all to lose.” He trotted forward, leaving her to ponder his words of melancholy as she pulled the gloves on and tapped her horse’s side to catch up.

  They rode on in silence down the dark path until both of them and their horses were too tired to go farther. They traveled into the southeastern Lochlan woods off the path until Harrison found three trees with thin trunks close enough together to support a tent with rope and linen. He lay a blanket on the ground.

  “Fit for a maiden.”

  She collapsed onto it without hesitation, her whole body exhausted and sore. Harrison sat down beside her, staring up at the moon and stars.

  “Aren’t you tired?” Aerity’s words came out slightly slurred.

  He didn’t answer. Instead he looked down at her and chuckled. “You appear to be in a tangle.” Indeed, she’d lain down with the blanket still around her. She wiggled and broke into a fit of giggles to find she was quite stuck. Harrison grasped the edge of the blanket and yanked, sending Aerity rolling to the side in a rush of laughter.

  “Someone is punchy.” He laughed when she reached out and punched his arm.

  Aerity sat up beside him now, replacing the blanket over herself. “Is there another blanket?”