“You’re back. By the stars, Princess, something must be done around here! Your military must be brought together.” He made passionate gestures with his hands. “They need to decide a focus point and a plan of action—”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Aerity said.
Lief stopped and stared as if surprised, then dropped his hands. “Good. You’re a smart woman.”
“I need to be caught up on what’s happened and then we will form a plan.”
Harrison arrived, bringing five of the highest-ranking military officers. They informed Aerity of all that had happened, allowing her to stop and ask questions. When all was said, they took a few moments before Aerity addressed them. Her voice was strong, but inside she felt herself shaking from the weight of responsibility.
“The first thing we need to do is call in the troops from throughout the kingdom,” Aerity said. “The towns will have to police themselves for now. Send half the soldiers back here and the other half to the Kalorian border to strengthen our line of defense there.
“I am issuing a proclamation throughout Lochlanach: let them know that I am their acting monarch until my parents are returned. Beginning tomorrow, the royal lands will once again be open. We will have full military and royal guard in force. All hands will be checked—any suspicious persons will be detained. Let the people know I am seeking Lashed who wish to help others with their skills, and Unlashed who are in need of medical attention. The west commons will become a camp, a safe place for magic to be worked under supervision, but laws against magic throughout the kingdom are still intact.”
Lief crossed his arms. “What are the rules for the Lashed while they are here? Torestan camps are not allowing their Lashed to leave the premises.”
“I will not force them to stay,” Aerity said. “Some of them will have families to tend to. But no one may roam freely on royal lands, just in case Rozaria’s people try to infiltrate. Lashed must be escorted to and from the west commons and the royal gate by armed guards, and suspicious persons will be detained without question. We can take no chances, but I don’t want the Lashed feeling like criminals. The guards will be just as much for their protection.” Shocked faces stared back at her. “We can no longer afford inaction. Am I clear?”
Slowly, everyone in the room gave resolute nods.
“Prepare the tents and tables for use inside the west commons,” she said. “Gather our warmest blankets, spare clothing, and wood for fires. Hire lads from local towns to help, if needed. Send out the proclamation.” Harrison and the officers quickly left to begin.
Aerity leaned upon her father’s desk and exhaled, allowing herself to outwardly tremble now. Lord Alvi, Vixie, and Wyneth stood there quietly.
The old adviser had said nothing the entire time, which was uncharacteristic.
“Duke Gulfton,” Aerity said carefully. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
He lifted his drooping eyes to her and said in a scratchy voice, “Nay, child. But not a one of us is all right these days, I suppose.” And with those ominous words he pushed achingly to his feet and shuffled from the office.
Aerity looked at the other three and shook her head. “I’m not sure it’s smart to leave the towns without coverage. Especially once they hear the proclamation.”
“No course of action will be perfect,” Wyneth told her. “But I think you’re making the right decision in this. You’re showing Rozaria that you’re trying.”
She hoped her cousin was right.
“Aer,” Vixie said, “I think it’s time for that bath.”
Chapter
26
Chun had never had a keen sense of direction, and he was quite certain that he’d lost his way. In Toresta, the common direction was up the mountain or down the mountain—it wasn’t as difficult to discern as these flat stretches of Zorfina with its dry ground and patchy foliage. In a sickening moment, he wondered if the Lochlan men, Paxton and Harrison, had fooled him.
“I am hungry, Baba,” his daughter said in a weak voice, calling out from his wife’s lap on the next horse.
“I know, sweet one. We all are. I’m certain we’ll find a camp soon.” But that was a lie.
“I think I see something,” Chun’s brother said. They stopped and stared at the horizon. He was right. Three black-clad figures on horseback were headed straight for them at a quick pace, sending up plumes of dust in their wake.
Chun’s heart raced. They hadn’t encountered a single soul on their journey. What if these were outlaws? More evil Lashed? Or simply haters of foreigners? Chun held an arm out to his wife and waved her back.
“Get behind me.”
His wife quickly obeyed, turning her horse, but when she faced the opposite direction she and his daughter let out screams. Chun turned to see three more figures draped in black on sleek horses, all with bows and arrows aimed at them and definitely within shooting range.
Chun shuddered and told his family, “Raise your hands in peace.” His wife, daughter, brother, and two nephews did as told. The figures slowly advanced as the other three rode up from the side.
“Torestan, jes?” one of the riders called to them. A woman.
Chun nodded and sputtered in universal Euronan, “Yes. We are peaceful.”
The people circled them, and Chun couldn’t help but take in their feminine figures, in such contrast to the male warriors in Toresta. Their hair and faces were covered in black cloth, showing only their striking, light eyes. These were them, the Zandalee. He remembered three of them from the day they’d ridden in with Paxton. He let out a ragged breath.
“I recognize you from the camp in Kalor,” the woman said. Chun nodded.
“We have been seeking you,” he said bravely.
Several of the women made hissing sounds that prickled the hairs on his neck.
“Why?” asked the same woman who’d spoken before.
“T-two men . . .” Chun swallowed. “Two Lochlan men, Lieutenant Harrison Gillfin and your traveling fellow, Paxton Seabolt, they sent me. The camp you saw—it is run by the one who creates the beasts and plans to attach Lochlanach. We came to warn you and seek refuge.”
The woman’s eyes enlarged. She turned to the other riders and spoke to them in Zorfinan, translating. Several murmured the names Harrison and Paxton. The woman looked at Chun. “How do I know you are not lying? That you are not on her side?”
He outwardly shook now. Their bows gleamed wickedly. “Paxton . . . he said he hunted with you, and that . . .” His cheeks warmed at this next part of the message; would they be angry? “And that if you give us refuge, Paxton will reward you by serving Tiern Seabolt to your sisters on a platter.”
The woman stared a moment and then threw her head back in laughter. She turned her head to translate and the women all laughed, slapping their legs and commenting to one another in Zorfinan. Chun exhaled once again.
“You are Lashed?” she asked.
“I am. And one of my nephews. The rest of my family is not.” Once again he swallowed, trying desperately to wet his dry mouth. “Please. Please do not hurt the children.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Did Paxton fail to tell you that we are not monsters?”
“No. No, I’m very sorry. I meant no offense. I speak foolishly when I’m afraid.”
The woman moved closer. “Why did you leave the Rocato woman’s camp?”
“Sh-she wanted us to kill people. To prove we’re loyal. I could not. And Paxton wanted you to know that he believes Prince Vito is working with her. He fears they may soon attack Lochlanach.”
Zandora hissed. “We must go.” She pointed to one of the horses. “That one has gone lame during our patrol. Caught his hoof on a root. He is skittish and we need him fixed before we can proceed.”
“I can heal him,” Chun said. He wasn’t afraid of horses, and he was glad for this moment to prove himself. He climbed down and made his way carefully to the mare. Its rider dismounted and held the reins tightly while Chun cal
med the animal and ran his hands deftly down its muscled legs. Within minutes, it was healed. The horse stomped its foot and whinnied. The Zandalee woman gave him a nod.
“You will come to our tribe’s land and tell me everything you know.”
“Thank you.” Chun shared smiles with his family before mounting his horse and following, filled with a zing of energy and gratitude.
Duke Gulfton’s family had owned the southernmost piece of Lochlanach waterlands for countless generations, bordering Kalor. He’d always been fair to the villagers who resided on his lands, collecting not a copper more in taxes than was necessary. He’d been loyal to King Charles and his father before him, just as Duke Gulfton’s father had been to the kings of old. He’d lived a prosperous life of respect. He never thought he’d see the day when his soul would slip into the slimy depths of the sea.
His joints creaked from traveling as he walked the sprawling overgrown lawn from his grand home to their sturdy docks. His land and everything about it was too quiet. Too empty. His home, like everywhere else in Lochlanach, had become a hopeless place with no security. A place that hardly felt like a home any longer.
Normally the duke would ask his grandson to ready the boat for him, but he hadn’t seen the boy in nearly two months. His eyes watered at the thought. Duke Gulfton’s aching legs took much longer to walk the long dock of his property than they used to. When he got to the end, he struggled to lower his boat, using all his might to crank the tight wheel until his vessel was in the water.
He climbed aboard, grasping the rail to keep from falling, and cursing all the while. Once aboard he set the sail, taking breaks to breathe. One last time, he told himself. Finally, the sails were set and he was headed south to the part of the shore where Lochlanach met Kalor. He steered the vessel until he came to the place with the statue on the shore that signaled the border. And then he turned another crank to lower the anchor.
Duke Gulfton stared toward the milky statue that he knew to be a giant sea gull carved from stone, but his old eyes could no longer make out the details. In the time of King Charles’s father, it had been given to King Kalieno of Kalor as a sign of peace.
So much for that offering. Duke Gulfton laughed drily until it became a cough that racked his entire thin frame and made him ache all over.
Moments later a much grander vessel of dark wood showed itself around the corner of land, heading directly toward him. The duke stared, his heart full of hatred. The boat slowed as it neared, and sidled up next to his, allowing dark-skinned shirtless men to tie the vessels together. Then a man stepped aboard and strode toward the duke. His hair was smooth and straight to his elbows. He wore a bright green tunic buttoned up the side, and came to stand before Duke Gulfton with his hands comfortably clasped behind his back.
“My men saw your signal of smoke from your chimney. What news have you, old sir?”
Duke Gulfton wanted nothing more than to bash this man’s head with his cane. Instead he gritted his teeth and practically snarled.
“The princess has returned. She is at the castle now. She is opening the royal lands tomorrow and allowing Lashed to work their magic on anyone in need. They’re pulling all the troops from towns and focusing them on royal lands and the Kalorian border. That is all I know.”
The royal Kalorian lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“Aye, indeed,” the duke said gruffly. “You said once she returned that would be my last message. I’ve done my part. Now release my grandson back to me.” He held his staff tightly and gave it a single bang on the wooden deck at his feet. He’d watched as these fiends killed his son and daughter-in-law two months ago in his own home. And then they’d taken his grandson.
“You have done well, good sir. The boy shall certainly be released. Just as soon as you perform one final task.”
Duke Gulfton was stifled by the words. He wanted to crumple. “You said this was my last task!”
“Ah, but things have changed,” the Kalorian said calmly.
The duke lifted his cane, pointed it at the man’s chest, and said through gritted teeth, “I will do nothing more until I see my grandson again!”
The Kalorian shed his calmness as his eyes brimmed with annoyance. He called something in Kalorian over his shoulder. On the dark vessel, a Kalorian tribesman brought out a twelve-year-old lad, hands bound and mouth gagged. The boy’s eyes bulged when he saw Duke Gulfton and he bent, crying and reaching for him.
Duke Gulfton lifted a hand across the expanse. His grandson! For the past month he’d begun to wonder if it was all a ruse. If they’d really killed the lad and he’d been a traitor for nothing. Seeing him now filled Duke Gulfton with a sweet waterfall of relief. The boy was all he had.
“All right,” he said weakly. “Let me have him, please. I’ll do whatever you want.”
The Kalorian man chuckled and flicked his wrist toward the tribesman. He said something and the man disappeared belowdecks with the boy again. Duke Gulfton cried out.
“You shall have him soon enough. Now listen closely.”
Chapter
27
With each day that passed without the king and queen being found, Wyneth felt her cousin’s anxiety rising. The tension and stress within the castle was stifling.
“Where are you going?” Lord Alvi called from behind Wyneth as she donned her warm cloak again. She nearly told him she was only going for a walk, but considering the current circumstances there was no room for deception between any of them.
She spoke quietly. “Aerity and Harrison took one of Rozaria’s baby beasts when they escaped—”
“They did what?” His eyes rounded.
“Sh.” She smiled reassuringly at the nearest guard, who watched them. “It’s like an overgrown pup, Lief. They saved it. Nothing to worry about.”
“Yet,” he murmured, but he seemed to have softened at hearing her use his name. “And you’re going to see it?”
“Aye.” Aerity and the others were busy and the creature was all by itself. She felt bad for it. Someone needed to tend it.
“Not by yourself. I’m going with you.”
She lifted her eyes skyward and said, “Fine. Come see for yourself.”
They walked through the biting winds down to the kennels. As they got closer, Wyneth gasped. The beast had climbed up the high wooden door and was sitting atop it, watching them.
“Skies!” Lord Alvi reached back for his bow, but Wyneth smacked his arm down. He lowered his arm and stared at the creature. The cub let out a pathetic rawr that made Wyneth giggle in delight. And then it leaped deftly down from its perch, rattling the door.
“My lady . . .” Lord Alvi was not at all comfortable when she squatted and patted her knee.
“Come, Furball,” she said.
“Furball? That’s its name?”
The beast climbed her, putting his paws on her thighs, and then her shoulders, and licking at her ears. She felt its claws dig against her upper back. Wyneth laughed in earnest, trying to angle away from its huge tongue.
“I cannot believe my eyes,” Lord Alvi mumbled. He walked to the kennel and opened the door. Then he let out a curse.
Wyneth looked and her stomach plummeted. The inside of the pen was shredded with claw marks.
“Oh, dear,” she whispered. Wyneth pulled Furball down and peered at his paws. One of them was bleeding where the claw met his skin, from scratching at the wood so hard. She ran a finger down the smooth claw to its sharp tip. Furball brought the paw up and licked the wound. They could not keep the little beast in the hounds’ kennels anymore.
Crackling leaves and footsteps sounded from over the hill. Lord Alvi and Wyneth raised their eyes to see Harrison joining them. He stopped, looking back and forth between them, then came forward. Lord Alvi stomped his way to Harrison, close enough to bump chests.
“What were you thinking bringing this beast here?”
Harrison, as calm as ever, met the coldlander’s eyes. “I was thinking it was one less
creature she could use against us.”
“Then you should have put it down! Not kept it!”
“I realize this,” Harrison said. “I’ve spoken to Aerity of my concerns.”
“No!” Wyneth stood. The cub wrapped its arms around her shoulder and its legs around her waist. She held it like an overgrown toddler. “It is not a danger.”
“Look at that and tell me the thing is not a danger!” Lord Alvi pointed to the destroyed kennel.
Harrison hissed and ran a hand over his hair. “I wondered if that might happen. I was just coming to check.”
“And the cursed thing can climb,” Lord Alvi added. “It will be far larger than any of us men when it’s full-grown, and then it will be a greater challenge to kill.”
Wyneth thought of the creature she’d seen killed in the forest, the empathy she’d felt for it. She couldn’t help but believe the beasts were capable of something better if they were not raised to kill. The thought of anyone hurting this innocent cub sent a protective instinct shooting through her.
“You’re not putting it down,” Wyneth said, holding Furball tighter. “He stays with me. If the Rocato woman can train an army of creatures to be loyal to her, I can train one to be loyal to me.”
Lord Alvi clenched his jaw and Harrison dropped his gaze, his hands hanging loosely at his hips. Wyneth walked away from the men, earning herself another warm, wet lick in the ear.
Chapter
28
Aerity wanted to lie in the hot water forever and forget her worries. She’d moaned like an ailing woman when she climbed in the tub. The water was a cloudy shade of brown from the dye washing out, but she didn’t care about soaking in dirty water. It felt glorious.
She’d wanted to be left alone to wash and to think. Was she doing the right thing? Would towns further revolt upon hearing her proclamation? And what if nobody came? Most of all, what would it take for the Kalorians to return her parents? A nagging voice at the back of her mind kept whispering one loathsome thought: they’re already dead. Aerity squeezed her eyes shut and submerged herself under the water, where all was muted.