“No,” Aerity said. They all turned to her, as if surprised by her strong tone. “Please stay. We’ve always been as one. Whatever he has to say to me can be said in front of all of you.”
Truth be told, she was frightened and took comfort in being surrounded by family. She’d no clue what this meeting had to do with her, but they were all in this together. Everyone settled again, but not one of them appeared comfortable.
“They call me the liberal king,” her father continued in that same ominous, quiet tone. “The romantic.” He looked at his wife, who gave an encouraging nod. “Because I believe in marrying for love, not lands or money or family name, the way it was for centuries before me. I promised my daughters they could choose their future husbands, just so long as the lads met our general approval.”
Everyone around the table nodded. They all knew this, and had agreed. The king had even fought his parents for his sisters to be able to marry of their own choosing. But Princess Aerity could not nod along with them. A horrible sense of trepidation had taken root inside her.
Why was he bringing up marriage? He wouldn’t even allow young men to court her until she turned eighteen next year.
“But these are desperate times,” he whispered.
Heavy sea snakes slithered in the pit of Aerity’s stomach.
“What are you saying, Charles?” Lady Ashley asked.
Again, her father looked directly at Aerity. “I must ask something of you that I never wanted. I never expected. As your father, it pains me. As your king, it is necessary.”
Her eyes burned, but she could only nod at his sincerity. Next to her, cousin Wyneth’s fingers flexed against Aerity’s, her first signs of life.
“Aerity . . .” Her father paused. “I must ask you to sacrifice the promise of love for the sake of our kingdom.”
He stared at her hard. She tried to swallow, but she could only stare back, frozen.
“I will be issuing a king’s proclamation to all five kingdoms of Eurona to send their best hunters, but I must make their journeys worthwhile. I must ensure that the strongest will be willing to face this foe. A monetary prize is not enough, and as you all know, most of the kingdom’s excess funds are wrapped up in my son’s land and youngest daughter’s dowry. Therefore, I have only one thing left to offer the man who kills this beast. I offer the hand of my oldest daughter in marriage.”
No. Spirits of the seas, no.
Princess Aerity felt heavy, unable to move or take air into her lungs. On one side of her, Vixie made a high-pitched sound. On the other, Wyneth gasped. Her aunts and uncles gaped at him.
The queen leaned forward to garner Aerity’s attention, that same desperation in her eyes that the king had, her voice thick. “Please, darling, don’t think of it as sacrificing love. Who’s to say you won’t fall in love with him? I imagine he’ll be brave and . . .”
The queen had to stop and cover her mouth against the mounting emotions. Aerity felt as if she might be sick. All around the table were the shocked faces of her family, but none of their horror matched the turmoil within her. She knew she should say something, but words . . . there were no words. Her life, as she knew it, was over. Her future, and the freedom she’d imagined, was dead.
Vixie began swiping tears from her cheeks. “This isn’t fair for Aerity, Papa,” she said.
“Truly, Charles,” said Lady Ashley. “There must be another way.”
The king’s jaw set. “You don’t think I’ve thought this through? You think I came to this decision on a careless whim, Sister?”
“I think we could have discussed options as a family—”
His voice rose. “I’ve spent countless hours speaking with every able-minded adviser in the kingdom. I’ve nothing left to give! Our lands had two years of drought and two years of rotting rain. Trades are down. All land in Lochlanach is owned by commoners or claimed for our royal lines. Would you have me break off pieces of your lands as reward?” The king pushed back in his chair; the queen placed a steadying hand on his forearm.
“There’s no need to raise your voice at her,” Lord Preston said.
“I believe there bloody well is reason when I’m being accused of tossing my daughter away without a care!” He looked at Lady Ashley. “You of all people should want this beast killed.”
“Of course I want it killed!” she shouted back at him. “But this is unprecedented.”
“It cheapens the royal line,” Lord Preston added.
“How so?” the queen asked. “Because hunters are mostly villagers?” She raised her eyebrows in challenge.
“You know I have no prejudice against you or commoners, Leighlane,” Lord Preston scoffed.
“Charles, please,” Lady Faith spoke. “We know you’re under pressure. We know you wouldn’t make this decision without a care. It’s just that we’re all a bit . . . surprised. You do realize a proclamation like this could invite any vagabond, brutish, scoundrel to have a lucky shot at the beast and live out the rest of his life in the castle, don’t you? And with your daughter, no less.”
The queen sucked in a breath. “Don’t be crude.”
“It’s only the truth,” Lady Faith said. “We need to discuss the reality of this situation.”
“The reality is that we’re facing a beast that we struggle to beat,” the king snapped.
“I agree,” Lord James said. He sent his wife an apologetic look for opposing her. “I think this is a worthy sacrifice. Arranged marriages were the way for many years until our generation. Aerity will survive.”
As they argued, Aerity imagined the kind, handsome face of Harrison, but the comfort he brought her was suddenly beyond reach.
“Papa, please,” Vixie pleaded. “Use my dowry instead.”
Oh, sweet Vixie. Aerity’s heart cracked.
The queen shook her head. “Vix, you will need that, trust me.”
“I don’t want it!”
“You’re too young to understand the importance, love.”
“I’m old enough to know this is wrong!” Vixie was crying in earnest now.
Lord James shook his head. “This generation of royal children doesn’t understand the obligation we have to the people. These kids have lived indulgent lives with no responsibilities, playing and doing circus tricks all day.”
Queen Leighlane glared. “Exercise and agility is nothing to frown upon.”
Lady Faith waved a dismissive hand at her husband. “They learn of hardship through their studies. No need for them to actually experience it.” At this, Lord James rolled his eyes, and the arguing commenced.
Vixie’s wails became background noise to the entire family fighting, emotions rising along with their voices. Aerity’s queasy stomach continued to spin, making her dizzy. While the adults quarreled, Wyneth’s worried eyes met Aerity’s.
Am I selfish to want to refuse? Aerity silently asked. Wyneth tightened her grip on her cousin’s hand under the table, and Aerity knew that even though Wyneth would do anything to avenge Breckon’s death, she would not hold it against Aerity if she defied her father in this.
Lord James stood, his chair flying back, knocking over a water glass as he pointed at Lord Preston. Others rose to their feet as well. Their voices echoed in Aerity’s ears, the words mashing together without meaning, making her head pound.
Thirty men had been slaughtered this week. Thirty women were grieving for the men they loved, and one of those women was her cousin. Thirty mothers had to live with images of their sons’ strong bodies being ripped apart. Now her family was at odds.
Could this proclamation end their suffering?
She forced herself to sit straighter, grasping at fleeting strands of confidence.
“Father.” The single word was lost amid a myriad of loud voices. Frustration and desperation painted her loved ones’ faces. She yelled over them, “Father!”
The room silenced. All heads turned to her.
“I will do as I must.” Her words were strong, forceful, eve
n though she felt nothing of the sort. She looked at her father’s red face. “I do not fault you for making this difficult decision. Send out your proclamation. Let the hunt begin as soon as possible.”
His eyes lit in pride and gratitude. When his chin trembled, the chin of a man who never backed down and never showed weakness, Princess Aerity had to release herself from Wyneth’s grip.
The truth of everything began to soak into her, like rain, each drop speaking to her. . . .
A stranger.
A hunter.
Your husband.
Overwhelmed, she turned and gathered her skirts, forcing her chin to remain up as she walked steadily from High Hall.
Chapter
6
Aerity did not want to speak to a soul. She sat on the edge of her bed, numb. For the first time in her life she felt an understanding of what it truly meant to be royal—a kinship with generations before her. When a soft knock sounded at her bedchamber door, she called, “Leave me be.”
The door opened a crack and Aerity saw a tangle of red curls around a tearstained face. Vixie. All at once, her sister’s offer to use her dowry and her cries on Aerity’s behalf was like a river of sentiment through her.
“Oh, Vixie, come here, love.”
Her sister came straight to her bed and climbed up into her arms, clinging to her. Aerity swallowed hard, trying to hold it together.
“I’m so mad at him, Aer.” Vixie pulled back, her pretty lips pursed. “I refuse to call him papa anymore.”
This wounded Aerity more than anything so far. She didn’t want this kind of divide in the family. Aerity rubbed Vixie’s arm. She understood her sister’s refusal to call him papa. Tonight, she’d felt like a king’s subject, not a king’s daughter, but she had to get past that feeling.
“Hush now, Vix. I’m sure he’s doing what he thinks is best. . . .” The words felt vile on her tongue, though she remembered their discussion of honor and sacrifice. Those things had seemed simple in theory, when it hadn’t been her own freedom on the line.
“You cannot seriously be all right with this!” Vixie pulled her arm away.
Aerity was torn between what her heart felt and what her mind knew. All her life she’d been taught to put the kingdom first. This was the first time she’d have to see that duty in action. Never did she imagine it would be like this.
“I will have to make difficult decisions when I am queen—”
“You will never make decisions that hurt your children!”
Aerity’s breaths were shaky. She hoped to the seas she’d never be faced with something like this when she had to rule. Could she ever sacrifice one of her children’s happiness for the kingdom? If not, would that make her a weak ruler?
She swallowed hard.
“Thank you for what you said in there, Vixie. You don’t know what it means to me.”
“I know you’re trying to be strong, and all of that queenly nonsense, but I am angry enough for both of us. I refuse to speak to him.”
Aerity choked back a laugh and took her passionate sister in her arms again. “Please don’t hold on to your anger too long.”
Vixie sniffed and looked up. “You really will do it, won’t you? You’ll marry a complete stranger.”
Aerity’s stomach turned like a rough gale. She shut her eyes. “I don’t want to,” she admitted. “But, aye. I will. I want this beast dead. I have to hope for the best, Vix.”
When Aerity opened her eyes she found Vixie studying her.
“You will make a good queen someday,” the girl said softly.
This was the thing that finally brought Aerity’s emotions to the surface, causing her to fight for breath. She didn’t feel like a future queen, and definitely not a future wife. She felt like a girl who had just lost something important. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Aye. Anything for you.”
Chapter
7
Most males in Lochlanach focused on fishing, crabbing, and harvesting shellfish. Brothers Paxton and Tiern Seabolt were two of the few who focused on land animals. Hunting. The lands of Lochlanach were best for growing crops, not raising livestock, so meat such as poultry, pork, and beef were in low supply at any given time. Only the wealthiest merchants could afford to raise animals for personal consumption.
In winter months when meat was scarce, the village turned to the Seabolt brothers. They kept a lean-to in the nearby forest with freshly salted venison and sold it as cheaply as they could, barely making a profit, not wanting anyone to go hungry.
Even though they themselves were nearly always hungry.
It didn’t used to be that way. Before their father’s knees went out two years ago, he’d been a successful deep sea fisherman. They’d lived comfortably on an acre with a stream, eating fish as thick and meaty as beefsteaks. Now they were without a boat, crammed within one of the row houses of the village, lucky to salvage bits of leftover venison jerky.
Seventeen-year-old Tiern took their family’s fall in stride, as good-natured as ever. But Paxton, two years his senior, had turned even angrier and more withdrawn than usual. Tiern suspected there was more to Paxton’s issues, secrets that Tiern had been sheltered from and reasons his older brother seemed to carry the weight of the world. But Pax was a private person, even among the ones he loved.
The fall morning was crisp as Tiern and Paxton made their way through the wooded brush with stealth, bows at the ready. For tall boys wading through fallen leaves, they scarcely made a sound. Paxton could go hours without talking—hours of listening to sounds of the forest, staring through leaves and branches for signs of movement.
Tiern could do it as well, but he didn’t relish it the way Paxton seemed to. Inside, Tiern was bored and restless. He wished a bloody deer would show itself already so they could skin it, drain it, hang it, and have their feet up in front of the fire before the curfew. He hated the cold evenings. Why couldn’t it be summer year-round?
They found a ridge of decaying logs and nestled themselves side by side, one brother facing each direction. And they waited.
After a while with no sign of anything but songbirds flying south, Tiern glanced at Paxton from the corner of his eye. Pax was eyeing the forest in earnest.
Paxton’s brown hair was wild with waves, and almost long enough to tie back with a strip of leather. Tiern didn’t know how he could stand to have it in his face like that. His own hair was the same dark brown shade, but straight. He kept it pulled back neatly at the nape of his neck. More rugged. More muscular. More mysterious. That was Pax.
Tiern could make girls laugh, and flattered them with compliments. They felt comfortable in his presence. Ironically, they flocked to Paxton for just the opposite reason. His abrasiveness seemed to be a challenge that kept girls on edge. Paxton never took the time to notice anything, but a single moment of eye contact with a girl could make her cheeks flush. No words necessary. Tiern wanted to laugh at the backwardness, at how blushing lasses gravitated toward his older brother who couldn’t be arsed to give them a lick of his attention.
Tiern saw movement and tore his gaze from his brother. His eyes met the trees just in time. A brown blur moved twenty yards away. All of Tiern’s fidgeting and boredom dissolved. For one shade of a second he wondered if it might be the great beast, but he knew it never came out during daylight hours. No, the animal’s form materialized into a gentle beast, nothing to fear.
Never taking his eyes from the deer, he gently nudged Paxton before ever so slowly nocking his arrow to his bow and lifting it. Aiming. Waiting for the perfect shot.
He could feel his brother’s silent anticipation next to him.
They were different in so many ways, but in these moments they were the same—joined by the thrill of the hunt.
Tiern’s heart pumped hard and the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh through his ears became a soothing mantra. This feeling. This rush made the boredom of waiting worthwhile.
Just as the doe stepped into the clearing, m
aking for a perfect shot, Paxton’s fingers tightened on Tiern’s shoulder and his eyes flicked to the side.
Tiern’s heart sank.
An older fawn, still sporting its fading spots, came bounding out beside its mother.
“Bucking seas,” Tiern cursed. The brothers had a rule about not killing does while they were raising babes. Once the fawns were older, losing their spots, their mothers were fair game.
Tiern lowered his bow, disappointment washing through him. But seconds later Paxton’s fingers gripped him again. He followed his brother’s gaze, and was hit with elation at the sight before them.
A giant buck with an eight-point rack stood between the trees, gazing toward the doe. A deer that size could feed half their village this week.
“Take it,” Paxton said, so low Tiern almost couldn’t hear.
Technically the buck was on Paxton’s side, but he must have felt bad about the doe, so he was giving his little brother the go. Tiern turned himself, achingly slow, and nocked his arrow to the bow once again, pulling it rigid.
Come on, big lad, he thought. Give me a good shot.
He didn’t have to wait long. The unsuspecting buck, focused solely on the doe, stepped out.
Tiern didn’t hesitate. He let his arrow fly and it found its mark beneath the ribs. He released a huge breath of relief as the beautiful animal faltered and fell. The doe and fawn dashed away.
Paxton leaped to his feet and ran to their prey. Tiern always let him take care of this part. His brother unsheathed a dagger from his waist and squatted at the animal’s side.
“There now,” Paxton soothed. He reached out slowly, with care, and pressed a hand to the buck’s head. The animal was still alive, breathing hard. “Go, be at peace. Your life will not be wasted.”
Those words, spoken at every kill, never ceased to bring a chill of awe to Tiern. He watched as his brother raised the dagger and ended the creature’s suffering. If only the lasses in town could see Paxton here in his element—see how capable their handsome brute was of gentleness, even as he killed. They’d likely be elbowing one another out of the way and racing to see who could lift their skirts for him the quickest.