Her stomach turned, realizing there were definitely fewer hunters, and they didn’t seem to be celebratory. Some were milling about, taking off their weapons. Others were clustered in small groups, slumped as they spoke. She recognized three of the Zandalee in all black, facing the wall on their knees, as if praying. Had they lost one? Aerity’s stomach dropped in sadness.
She scanned the crowd, and found fewer dark-haired men. There was Harrison’s short hair—thank the seas! He seemed well, and her stomach began to right itself. She spotted Tiern Seabolt next. Her eyes circled all around him, but didn’t find his brother at his side.
Where was Paxton Seabolt? The brothers were always together. Air moved faster into her lungs, pressed out in short spurts. She shouldn’t care this much. He’d never even been civil to her. Still, concern ate at her.
She jumped from the window seat and snatched her robe from the hook, throwing it over her arms. Aerity yanked open the door and found her maid standing there with a tray. Caitrin jumped and let out a small squeal.
“I’ll be right back!” Aerity ran past her.
“But, miss! Your Highness, your shoes!”
It wasn’t proper to be seen outside her chambers in nightclothes, and it was even more uncivilized to be seen barefoot. Aerity didn’t care, driven by some frantic fear for a complete stranger. She ignored the open stares from servants as she passed, and she barely noticed the guards following as she burst from the castle doors and ran down the path to the west commons area. It wasn’t until she neared the vine-covered gates and men came into view that she began to worry about her state.
Based on the gawking of the guards at the gates, she must have looked a fright, tangled hair and all. She stopped and peeked through the end of the gate until she found Tiern again. He appeared stern as he cleaned his boots, but not heartbroken. Aerity hastily ran her finger through her hair and twisted it over her shoulder.
She then moved forward, speaking to the closest guard. “Excuse me. Can you please fetch that lad, Tiern Seabolt? I wish to ask him about the hunt.” He glanced at her bare feet and blinked before obeying. Aerity wiggled her toes against the cool stones, feeling foolish and nervous as guards watched her.
Tiern ventured out of the commons, and stopped in his tracks at the sight of her. She resisted the urge to smooth her hair back again.
“I apologize for my appearance. I was eager to hear how last night went . . . ?”
Tiern’s face darkened as he recalled it.
“Is your brother all right?” she blurted before he’d had a chance to speak.
His eyebrows rose. “Er, aye. He’s in the castle for his injuries, but he’ll heal.”
Aerity let out a breath, embarrassed. “What happened, then? Did you see the beast? Has it been killed?” Her blood pumped rapidly, only slowing when Tiern gave a regretful shake of his head.
“It still lives.”
The princess was torn between disappointment that the beast would live another day, and relief that the fate of her future marriage was not yet sealed.
“What happened out there?”
Tiern retold the night’s events, each detail making Aerity’s skin crawl.
Aerity considered calling Harrison over to discuss it all, but hot shame filled her at the thought of him seeing her like this. He’d only laugh and tease her, but he knew her well enough to know she had to have been out of sorts to leave her room in such a state. She thanked Tiern and rushed back into the castle before one of her parents or aunts caught sight of her.
Twenty minutes later she bustled down the infirmary hall wearing her favorite pale pink gown cinched extrafirm at her waist and dipping a bit lower at the top than her other dresses. She told herself she’d grabbed it from her wardrobe at random, but she knew it was a lie.
Aerity stopped a nurse her age. The girl’s eyes widened and she dipped into a curtsy. “Your Highness.”
“Hello, miss. Can you please tell me where the hunter Paxton Seabolt might be?”
“Certainly, Princess. Last door to your left.”
Aerity rushed to the closed door and paused, hesitating with a hand pressed to her nervous stomach. She only wanted to see him, to see for herself that his injuries weren’t too grave, and then she would leave. She knocked softly, but heard nothing. After a few seconds she slowly pushed the door open and peeked inside. A gas lamp dimly lit the room. Aerity held her breath as she beheld a sleeping Paxton on the cot, one arm curved over his head and the other draped across his middle. He lay shirtless, his brown trousers slung low. Muddied leather boots were splayed on the floor.
She stared openly from the doorway at his body. It was the most skin she’d ever seen on a grown man. He had a small, brown trail of hair down his taut stomach. Aerity found herself holding her breath as the air around her closed in.
She wondered how it would feel to touch him, this lad she hardly knew who intrigued her so.
High seas, why did her skin feel so prickly and her blood so . . . heavy?
He was obviously well. She needed to close the door and leave before someone caught her staring. But then Paxton inhaled a ragged breath and sat up, as if waking from a dream. His eyes were alert and untrusting as they darted around the room, landing on the princess. Aerity gripped the door, caught.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I only wanted to see how you fared. You look . . . healthy.” She swallowed and backed up. “I’ll leave you to rest.”
“Wait.” He slung his legs over the side of the cot and gripped the edge. “Have you seen my brother?”
Aerity stopped and nodded. “He told me what happened last night. I can’t believe it can swim.”
Paxton dragged a hand through his dirty hair and grimaced. “Aye. That complicates things indeed.” He was speaking to her in a civil manner. Aerity hid her surprise.
The hunter looked down at his abdomen and then back up at the princess. He rubbed a hand down his stomach. “I’m not sure where my tunic’s gone . . . it was bloodied.”
Aerity waved off his comment with a shaking hand and said, “It’s all right.” As if she were used to being in the presence of half-naked, attractive men.
Do not look at his chest . . . or his stomach. . . .
“Only a few Kalorians remain to hunt,” Paxton said. “They were extraordinary last night. They attacked it and gave chase.”
He was being awfully chatty. Perhaps a near-death experience would do that to a person.
“Tiern said you did the very same thing, attacked it without fear.”
Paxton shook his head and paused as he looked down at his hands. “It wasn’t enough. I was like a rag doll against its power.”
Ah, so Paxton Seabolt had been humbled. His hair was a mess, and she wanted to brush it from his face.
“But it won’t be so next time,” he said, his voice lowering. “I know the beast’s weakness now, and I will kill it.”
Paxton’s eyes bored into hers. His words echoed in her mind.
He wanted to kill the beast. And if he did . . . he would become her husband.
Aerity felt a heady rush of bravery. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty hall and then let the door slide closed behind her. She swallowed hard and leaned against it. Oh, lands below, what had she done? She’d just closed herself in a room with him! Her mother would die if she found out. Gossip would fly.
“I didn’t want our conversation to upset anyone,” Aerity explained lamely.
Paxton crossed his arms, examining her, scrutinizing. “If you knew anything about us villager lads, you’d know better than to shut yourself in with one of us.” His eyebrow rose and fell provocatively.
Her mouth dropped open. This had been a bad idea. Very bad, indeed. Paxton might be a brave hunter, but she didn’t know this man at all. And he was right; the kind of flirting banter popular among commoners was seen as inappropriate among royalty, though he made no move to come near her.
“You’re a cheeky one,” A
erity managed to say, trying and failing to cover her embarrassment. Paxton’s mouth pulled to the side in a smirk that made her stomach flip.
“You’ve no idea, Princess.”
She’d only wanted to continue talking in private. Instead, she’d made things horribly awkward. At a loss, the princess blurted, “My cousin saw the beast. She . . . it killed her fiancé.” The words made her light-headed.
Paxton’s face dropped. “Lady Wyneth . . . aye. I’d heard the captain was engaged to the king’s niece, but I never put it together.” He stared past her shoulder, in thought. Then his eyes slid back to hers with newfound intensity. “It will die. Your cousin and all the others will be avenged.”
“Good.” Aerity cleared her throat against the dry croak that had invaded, made worse by Paxton Seabolt’s intrusive searching of her face.
“Why is it that you’ve come here, Aerity?” There was an edge to his voice. “You want me to kill the great beast?”
Her breath caught. Aerity. Not princess. No formal title. Only familiarity, which they hadn’t yet earned. Still it warmed her to her core.
She stammered, “Of course I want the beast to be killed.”
Paxton walked slowly to the small table, examining the cup. He turned his head enough to gaze warmly at her through strands of his hair. “But do you want me to be the one to kill it? Is that why you’re here? To persuade me?” His words were spoken in a low voice, sending Aerity’s thoughts into a whirlpool of confusion.
“No. I mean . . . I . . .” She tried to sort out any hidden meaning in his words, but he was difficult to read.
If he killed the beast, she would get to touch him. Run her hands over him. He might not like Aerity for whatever reason, but from the heat in his gaze she knew he’d welcome her hands on him. He’d probably welcome any lass’s hands on him. That thought darkened Aerity’s musings. He half smiled.
“Or is it Harrison you want? Do you still think you have a say in who marries you?” he asked. “Even after your father’s proclamation?”
And with that, Aerity felt her wits returning as she returned his steely stare. Did he think she was some girl to be toyed with? How dare he make light of her situation?
“If you’re looking to have your ego stroked, Paxton Seabolt, you’ve asked the wrong lass. I would prefer my future husband to love me, if you must know. This arrangement does not please me, but the safety of the kingdom is more important than what I wish for. So don’t speak lightly of my circumstances.”
And why had he mentioned Harrison? Had that been a twinge of jealousy in his voice?
His eyes roamed her face as if searching for cracks in her words. He appeared unapologetic for any disrespect he might have meant. Aerity could not understand this bold man or how he perceived her.
As they stared, Aerity felt a sudden nudge at her back from the opening door. The princess jumped and saw Mrs. Rathbrook. Paxton stood straight. Aerity’s cheeks heated and she pressed a hand to her chest. This must have looked bad, but the woman smiled at them both with apparent delight.
“My apologies, Mrs. Rathbrook,” Aerity said. “I heard Mr. Seabolt was injured so I came to check on him, but he’s already in perfect condition, thanks to you. I was just leaving.”
Mrs. Rathbrook reached out and took Aerity’s clammy hand, squeezing it as if to calm her. In the woman’s other hand was a man’s tunic. Paxton looked back and forth between the woman and girl, seeming almost confused or surprised about something. The older woman tossed the shirt at his face and he caught it.
“It’s not proper to go around shirtless in front of a royal lass,” she gently admonished, “no matter how beautiful she might be.”
She winked at Aerity, who blushed all over again.
“Please don’t tell my father or mother,” Aerity began, but the woman only chuckled and shook her head.
“There is nothing to tell. Two people talking.”
Aerity, beyond thankful, embraced the woman and kissed her cheek.
She felt Paxton watching her with a keen awareness, but she refused to acknowledge him or say good-bye. She peered around the door and slipped into the empty infirmary hall, gulping breaths of cool air. Her hands shook and she curled her fingers into tight fists to fight the trembling.
She didn’t doubt that Paxton had felt her attraction. It’s surely what gave him the confidence to be as forward as he pleased. But she couldn’t allow another moment like that to happen between them. In his eyes lived something deep, dark, and untold. Something that frightened her.
But it didn’t scare her enough to make her want to stay away from him. Not nearly enough.
Chapter
19
Lady Wyneth stood at the gates of the west commons, peering through at the quiet hunters milling about. Most of them appeared to be finishing their morning meals and heading toward the tents for rest. No sign of her cousin anywhere.
Wyneth turned and strode along the cobblestones back to the castle. She wondered where Aerity could be. She’d caught wind of the night’s events from two castle maids, and wondered if the princess had heard about Paxton Seabolt’s injury.
As the lady rounded the corner she heard low male voices and nearly crashed into several men.
“Whoa there!” Harrison took her by the forearms to steady her, chuckling. The other men walked around them, except Lord Alvi, who stopped.
“So sorry, Har— um, Lieutenant. I was looking for Aerity.”
“Haven’t seen her. We’ve just returned from scouting for signs of the beast. No luck.”
Wyneth nodded. She hoped with all her heart that Harrison would kill the thing to avenge Breckon and marry her cousin. She’d always wanted him and Aerity together . . . though the princess seemed to have taken an interest in the daring skirt raiser, Paxton. She supposed she couldn’t fault her, though Harrison would be the safer bet.
Harrison watched her with fondness in his light brown eyes. “I’d better go wash up.”
“Good to see you, Lieutenant,” she said.
Harrison began to leave her, but Lord Alvi remained. When Harrison stopped, the Ascomannian lord waved him on with a smile. “I’ll be along momentarily.” Harrison’s face hardened, and he made no move to exit. He looked to Wyneth, who felt unease at the awkwardness.
Wanting to defuse the tension, she said, “It’s fine, Lieutenant. I shall see you this afternoon.” He hesitated, looking displeased before he finally strode away.
“Walk with me?” Lord Alvi held out his elbow, and Wyneth took it, letting him lead her off the path and into a nearby grassy area with a smattering of trees. “How are you this morning, Lady?”
His voice was as low as the deep blue sea. Wyneth swallowed hard. Something about this man was disarming. He made her incredibly nervous. His attention was flattering, but Wyneth did not take it to heart. They stopped behind a wide tree, and he turned to face her. His dominating presence was flustering.
“I’m well,” Wyneth said. Her eyes darted this way and that, attempting not to look into the cool arctic blue of his. “How goes the hunt?”
He peered out at the glistening ocean beyond. “The beast still eludes us in the day. They watched it enter the water, but we can’t find where it might’ve come back out.”
Wyneth’s clutched the gray fabric at her chest. “The beast took to the water?” Sudden fear gripped her like fingers of icicles, and she felt dizzy.
Lief moved closer, took both her elbows. “You look faint.”
“I’m all right,” she whispered. He slowly let her go.
She blinked, eyes burning. She hadn’t cried in two whole days. But hearing that the beast could swim—that it could have followed her into the creek that night . . .
Wyneth covered her mouth, breathing deeply through her nose as she closed her eyes. How easily she could have been killed. Just like Breckon.
Breckon.
Lady Wyneth was hardly aware as Lord Alvi led her farther into a shroud of evergreens, out of sigh
t. He took her face in his hands and swiped the tears as they fell. His face was a mixture of confusion and alarm.
High seas, she was crying in front of a hunter. A stranger. A foreign lord.
“I—I’m sorry.” Wyneth stepped back, out of his grasp, and his bare arms fell to his sides. She had no idea why she felt the sudden urge to tell him everything. Perhaps his kindness. Perhaps to kill his interest in her. What man would find interest in a woman with a shattered heart?
“The beast killed my betrothed.” Her voice was thick. She wiped the last bit of moisture from her eyes and stood taller. “I saw it attack. We were together on the docks. I fled, swimming across the creek. I—I left him.”
Lief’s handsome face slackened. “That was you? You were engaged to the captain?”
No more tears. Wyneth tightened her jaw and nodded.
Understanding crossed his face. “So you’ve seen the beast?”
A flash of teeth and claws and blood flashed through Wyneth’s mind’s eye and she rocked back on her heels.
“Of course . . .” He moved toward her, and she stepped back, causing him to tilt his head to the side. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through.”
She swallowed. “Why didn’t it come for me in the water? It could have killed us both.”
There were times, especially during the first couple weeks, when she wished she were dead too. She thought death might have been better than to feel the heartache anew each morn when she woke. Breckon had been her life and her future. He’d been there as her mind-set changed from that of a girl to a woman, and he’d loved her every minute, patiently.
“There are many things we don’t understand about the beast and its motives,” Lief said quietly. “But the fates kept you alive for a reason. You have a life to live still, Lady Wyneth.”
Wyneth allowed herself a look at him.
Breckon had been polished. Lean. His hair had been short, and he was polite to a fault. Lord Lief Alvi was a contrast to all of that. A rogue. Wild waves of blond hair rested on his shoulders. A vest of fur fitted against his massive chest, his shoulders and arms of muscle jutting out.