“Aye,” she agreed. “And who posted this? Obviously Kalorians, but is it perhaps a group of ill or injured people who need magical help?”
“Or part of Rozaria Rocato’s ranks?” Harrison added.
Aerity chewed her lip. It did seem a little worrisome. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paxton would have seen this notice and been curious too.
“Come on,” Harrison said, mounting again. “We’ll check it out when we get closer.”
Onward they rode for hours. Aerity munched a handful of dried berries and nuts to appease her ceaseless hunger pangs. She was ashamed at how vastly she’d underestimated the heaviness of her castle meals.
Just as her thoughts were headed dangerously along the lines of coconut cake, Harrison held up a hand and signaled her into the woods. Dusk was falling, casting dimness over the already shadowed forest.
“I think I smell smoke, and I saw fresh hoofprints on the trail,” Harrison whispered. “We’re not far from the lake now. This is right where we’d need to veer off to cut through to the Zorfina border.”
She could tell from his imploring tone that he wasn’t comfortable going forward, and he wanted to cut through now. But what if Paxton was here and they wasted all their precious time traveling to the Zandalee tribe?
“Just a wee bit closer?” Aerity pleaded with her eyes until his lips tightened and he blew out a breath.
“Fine. We’ll have a quick look, but we’ll have to tie the horses in the forest and go on foot to stay quiet. If we don’t see Paxton straightaway, we’ll continue to Zorfina—”
“Entrudios.” Intruders . . .
Aerity gasped, and Harrison spun his horse toward the voice. He reached back for an arrow, but one whizzed between the two of them, a warning shot.
Great seas! At least five men stepped out from deep within the forest, all pointing arrows at them. Harrison held up the palms of his hands and leaned slightly to the side as if to block Aerity.
The princess took in the sight of their dark bodies, shirtless, and hair that was shaved on the sides. Kalorian tribesmen. Aerity put her hands up as well, giving them a wary smile. She’d met tribesmen during the hunt and they’d been perfectly reasonable.
“Hello,” she said in Kalorian. “We are traveling through. We mean no harm to anyone.”
All eyes went to her with interest. The largest man moved forward. He sniffed the air and eyed the two of them. Aerity saw his hands, clutching his bow, and her stomach tightened at the sight of purple lines on his nails.
“You are not Lashed?” he asked with a grunt, speaking in Kalorian.
Aerity swallowed and responded in his native tongue, “No, sir, we are not. But we are Lashed supporters.”
His eyes narrowed with skepticism. “How do you know Kalorian? You appear Lochlan.” He spit on the ground.
Aerity’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought about how she would explain her language knowledge. Generally, only wealthy families learned foreign languages. Curses! She should have pretended not to understand. She fumbled for a quick idea.
“My family does trade mostly with Kalorians. Coffee beans and spices for wheat and soybeans. I befriended a Kalorian merchant’s daughter and we taught each other.”
Harrison watched their exchange carefully, most likely not understanding more than a few words here and there.
“Tell your man to throw down his weapons,” the tribesman ordered. “All of them.”
“He says to throw down your weapons.”
Seeming unsurprised, Harrison slowly slid his bow and quiver off and lowered them to the ground. Then he pulled the daggers from the sheaths at his waist and boot and tossed them out too. One of the men rushed over and snatched them up, turning them over with a grin.
Aerity kept a sizable dagger in her horse’s saddlebag, but she didn’t dare tell. The large man told them to dismount, so they complied. Two of the men took their places on the horses, though the horses were unsure about it all, whipping their heads side to side. Aerity wanted to stroke Jude and tell him it was okay. Then again, maybe with any luck he’d throw the man to the ground.
The large Kalorian and one other took ropes from their waists and grabbed Aerity and Harrison by the wrists.
“Please,” the princess said, starting to tremble. “We are harmless.”
Quick, blinding pain stung the side of her face. He hit her!
“No!” Harrison shouted. “Keep your hands off her!”
Aerity had never before been hit by another person, and she was shocked by her urge to cower at the simple act of brutality. Then she heard a scuffle and thump, followed by a prolonged grunt from Harrison. She lifted her head to see him bent over, clutching his abdomen.
“Stop it!” she shouted in Kalorian. Her eyes watered as the large man tightened the ropes around her wrists and yanked her forward. “Don’t hurt him, please,” she whimpered.
“Tell your lover to shut his mouth and come with us. No more struggling.”
Her first foolish instinct was to correct him, to say he was not her lover, but she dared not. The side of her face throbbed.
“They said be quiet and come with them. Don’t struggle.”
Harrison’s eyes were wild, like he wanted to fight. Aerity shook her head. They were tugged forward, through the trees and back onto the path. Each step closer to their fate turned Aerity’s stomach. Ten minutes later, wrists burning from the ropes, the trees opened into a clearing. In the dusky, dim lighting, Aerity saw a tall, dilapidated building and a camp with several tents and a fire raging in the center.
Her eyes darted about as people shuffled over to see them. Bald men with a woman in a Torestan-style shift and a young girl stared. A thin man in a Lochlan farmer’s tunic watched. Aerity’s hopes plummeted at the unfamiliar faces, though they seemed harmless enough.
They stopped in front of the largest tent, where candlelight flickered within.
“Madam Rozaria,” the man holding her called out. Ice slithered down Aerity’s back and she froze, her breaths ragged with terror. Great seas. No. Then the man said proudly in Kalorian, “We have captured intruders.”
Aerity clenched her teeth, shaking. If it was the Rocato woman, would she recognize the princess? If so, she would surely kill them immediately. Or worse—kill Harrison and use Aerity as leverage to manipulate her father. Sick bile rose in her throat.
The tent flap opened, and a beautiful face peered out. Her. Aerity had a bow and arrow the last time she’d faced Rozaria; this time she was unarmed, her hands bound. Despair trickled into her like drops of toxin, making her dizzy. Deep oceans, help her. Rozaria pushed out through the tent flap, seeming somewhat annoyed. She stood, looking Aerity up and down, then at Harrison, with no signs of recognition. The princess held her breath, prepared to struggle and fight with all her might, come what may.
And then the flap opened again, and a man came out. His brown hair . . . those unruly waves . . . a sob nearly choked Aerity. When he stood fully, he glanced at her, then at Harrison, then back to Aerity. Their gazes locked, then abruptly his eyes seemed to erupt as he stared at her. Aye, Aerity wanted to cry out, it’s me.
He was in terrible need of a shave. He inspected her intensely but remained silent. Aerity watched as his eyes went to Harrison again, and Paxton gave a quick, minuscule shake of his head. Harrison dropped his eyes.
“You’re Unlashed,” Rozaria said in Euronan. “And Lochlan.” Aerity wondered how she would know they were Unlashed, other than having no marks. They could be Lashed who’d never worked magic, couldn’t they?
“We’re only traveling through,” Harrison rasped as if he were in pain. “We meant no harm to your camp.”
“Then how unlucky that you happened upon us,” Rozaria said in a cool, low voice, “because we cannot allow you to leave.” She turned and placed a hand intimately on Paxton’s arm. He acted as if it were natural and fine, but a sickening zing ratcheted up Aerity’s back as Rozaria gazed up at him. The look on her face was
one of ownership and comfort. Seduction, even.
What in all of Eurona is going on here?
“You, Martone, and Robertone will escort them to the tower for questioning. Trust no one, Paxton. Ever. Even an innocent-seeming woman. Assume the worst and find out what they know. Take Chun with you so he can see how it is done. Remember: pain and fear prompt truth.”
“Aye, Rozaria. I understand.” The way he looked at the Rocato woman so openly, without fear—something was between them. Oh, seas . . . are they . . . ? No. Her mind whirred and she couldn’t form coherent thoughts. Everything was wrong.
Aerity bent at the waist and dry heaved. Her empty stomach felt as if it were twisting in on itself. The world was spinning and turning and she started to topple until her captor yanked her upright and gave her a shake. She let out a weak wail.
“Callie,” Harrison called. “Be strong.”
He was rewarded by a backhand to the face from the brute holding him. Harrison shook his head like he was trying to clear away the pain. Aerity wanted to be sick again. She looked at Paxton, whose stare dropped to the ground between them, his eyes glazed in calculated thought.
Rozaria gave instructions to Martone in Kalorian, saying not to kill them—that they could be used as a test for loyalty. Aerity had no idea what that meant, but she knew they were in unspeakable danger.
Aerity and Harrison were dragged to the old building, and one of the bald Torestan men joined them, looking unsure. The moment the door to the building opened, Aerity was smacked with the rancid smell of decay. She gagged and coughed. It was the exact concentrated smell of death she’d experienced on the Isle of Loch, a gruesome stench from her nightmares that told her Rozaria was creating more monsters here.
This couldn’t be happening. Why was Paxton allowing it? Aerity questioned everything she thought she knew in that moment. Paxton had carried so much anger when they’d met, but he’d still seemed to value human life. He couldn’t have turned, could he? Had he been romanced by Rozaria’s ideals of Lashed power?
No, Aerity refused to believe it.
In the entranceway, she saw an open room to the right. A young woman stood at a table with some sort of hairy creature wriggling under her hands. A scar marred one side of the girl’s pretty cheek. When she saw them, she quickly raised the hood of her cloak, hiding her face. The small creature took this opportunity to stand and leap down from the table in a flash. Aerity screamed as it ran toward them on four little legs, claws clacking against the ground. The brute Martone tried to grab it with one hand while holding Aerity’s arm with the other. It streaked past and up a dark stairwell.
The girl shouted, “Imbecile cub!” in Kalorian.
“I will retrieve it,” Paxton told her. “I’m on duty here tonight anyway. We’re dealing with these prisoners, and then I’ll take care of the creature.”
The girl didn’t respond, causing Aerity to wonder if she could understand Lochlan. She simply glowered at Paxton and then tugged her hood down farther, rushing past them and out of the building.
Martone pulled Aerity toward the dark staircase and she stumbled on the first few steps before finding her footing. They seemed to wind up and up forever until they came to a round room where Martone shut them in. Aerity expected the tiny monster to jump out at her at any moment, but she saw it nowhere. Harrison’s captor shoved him down onto the filthy floor covered in loose hay. A single window let in the last of the early evening light, swirling dust around old bed pads on the far side of the room.
The other Kalorian pointed at the floor by the empty wall. Aerity gladly moved away from them and sat, pulling in her knees. Harrison leaned against the wall ten paces away. Her eyes darted to Paxton, who was watching her intently. His lips were set in a way that made him seem furious. The Torestan stood behind him, watching with nervous, darting eyes. Martone kept his hands fisted as he paced back and forth. Aerity shrank away from the volatile man.
Paxton knelt before Harrison. “Tell us your name and why you are in Kalor.”
Harrison cleared his throat. “I am Broden Spanner of southern Lochlanach. It has been said I hail from Kalor roots, that my grandmother was a Kalorian vagabond.”
Martone marched over to Aerity and gave her hip a hard nudge with his foot. He pointed to Harrison and said in Kalorian, “What does he say? Translate!”
Paxton’s eyes went round with horror when Aerity began to speak in Kalorian for Martone. Paxton pinched the skin between his eyes and told Harrison, “Go on.”
“My parents have both died and I’m without family, so I wanted to venture to Kalor to try to find my kin.” He paused for Aerity to translate. “I offered to pay my friend to join me because she’s the only person I know who speaks Kalorian.”
“How convenient,” Paxton muttered.
While Martone and the other tribesman concentrated on Aerity’s translation, she could have sworn she saw an interaction between Harrison and Paxton: a movement of lips. Yet both of their faces remained fiercely determined.
Paxton reached out and gripped the side of Harrison’s neck, pulling him back. “I need you to tell me the truth now, Broden Spanner. . . . Who sent you to Kalor?”
Harrison’s chest arched up, and he let out a growl that escalated into a howl that made Aerity’s skin prickle. Paxton held on tight to Harrison’s neck as his legs kicked out beneath him.
Aerity could not believe her eyes. She screamed, “Stop it!” and pushed up on her knees, ready to knock sense into Paxton herself, but he stopped just as Martone grabbed Aerity by the shoulder and wrenched her back. Her head hit the wall with a thud and she scrambled away. She and Harrison were both breathing hard. Paxton was glaring at her. How could he? Her entire world shifted in that moment into something ugly. Her heart had never ached so.
“I work for no one,” Harrison panted. “I swear. I am a wheat farmer who wants to find my family.”
Martone turned his head to Aerity in expectation and she weakly translated.
Paxton now put both his hands on Harrison’s neck, as if he might strangle him, and looked him in the eye. “This is your one and only chance to come clean. If you tell us the truth, everything you know about those hunting Rozaria, and express your loyalty, we will consider not killing you. We can perhaps find a use for you.”
Aerity murmured a translation, her stomach clenching. Then she said to Paxton, “Please . . . please don’t.”
His jaw clenched, but he did not look at her. His forearms flexed and a gurgle came from Harrison. Harrison’s entire body shook, and he fell over to the side. Paxton pulled his hands away and shouted, “Tell me what you know or each time will get worse!”
Harrison gasped. “I . . . know . . . nothing.”
The man, Chun, who practically hid from the display, spoke Kalorian in a shaky voice, “I think he’s telling the truth.”
“This man is weak,” Martone said in Kalorian to his partner, hitching a thumb at Chun. The other tribesman nodded, sending a sneer to Chun, who stepped away.
Aerity’s vision was spotty in the shadowed dimness. She felt numb. Dead. Until Martone’s hard smack hit the same spot on her face he’d hit before. A throb of pain filled her entire head and neck. “Tell us what you know, gluta,” he snarled. Gluta . . . a foul word for Lochlans that meant colorless pig.
She brought her arms up to shield herself from further abuse as Paxton yelled, “Oy! I’ll handle her.” He crouched before her now and ordered her to tell what she knew.
Aerity slowly lowered her arms. Paxton was so close. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her eyes burned. She knew now that his allegiance had turned, but her heart was so foolish. Even now, after seeing him hurt her friend, she wanted so badly to take his hands and tell him he didn’t have to be this way. That she missed him terribly. That it wasn’t too late to turn from Rozaria’s clutches and come home.
She swallowed a dry lump and repeated the story she’d told the men in the woods, first in Lochlanian, then Kalorian. Martone grunted an
d looked down at Harrison’s still body. He pushed him with his foot.
“Is he dead?” The man laughed. “Rozaria said not to kill him, you fool.”
Aerity’s heart gave a great bang. “No!” She tried to push away from Paxton to get to Harrison, but Paxton held her by the arms. “Is he dead?” She thrashed and screamed until Paxton pressed his palm hard over her mouth, speaking roughly.
“He is alive. He’s only passed out. Tell Martone.”
Oh, thank the seas. If anything happened to Harrison she’d never be able to live with herself! Aerity drew a deep breath of relief.
He took his hand away and she obeyed, staring at Harrison and feeling better when she saw the light movement of his chest. Then she turned her face to Paxton and felt more anger than she’d ever felt in her life.
“How could you? How could you do that to him?” She struggled, trying to kick or hit or hurt him in any way she could. A scream tore from her throat as the helplessness of utter betrayal took over.
“I think they are innocent!” the Torestan man said, his voice filled with panic.
“You are too soft.” Martone sneered at him before turning to his partner. “We are getting nowhere with these prisoners and I grow bored.”
Oh no. “Watch out,” Aerity breathed, though to whom, she could not say.
Martone shoved Paxton aside and grabbed Aerity’s throat with his meaty hand, lifting her to her feet and then off the floor. Spots swam in her vision.
“Tell us what you know, girl!” His voice was monstrous.
She grabbed his wrists with her bound hands to hold herself up, kicking her feet. Her throat and jaw pulsated with pain. Oh, seas, she couldn’t breathe!
“She can’t tell us a damned thing if you’ve got her by the throat!” Paxton shouted. “Put her down!”
Aerity wanted to tell Paxton that Martone couldn’t understand him. She vaguely heard shouts. From the corner of her eye she saw a blur of fur come across the room. The tiny beast? She was pitched slightly to the side as Martone kicked the thing and it soared into the wall with a yelp. Then she felt herself losing consciousness—loud voices and stomping seemed so far away, then quiet and blackness as she was dropped to the ground. The last thing she felt was a firm hand on her cheek, and then nothingness.