And what in the bloody deep seas was happening with Prince Vito and Aerity? His stomach rolled again, his hands clenching. Paxton had never killed a human being, but he would take pleasure in ending the prince’s life. How could Aerity consider baiting a serpent like him?
In truth, he begrudgingly admitted that she’d handled him brilliantly, playing on his weaknesses of vanity and seduction, but they needed to overpower the Kalorians and Lashed rebels quickly before Prince Vito had a chance to officially make Aerity his queen. Paxton would not allow that to happen, even if it was him against a thousand.
Rozaria came to Paxton’s side and watched the spectacle with a sparkle in her eyes. Then her mood seemed to darken.
“Your princess is up to something. I don’t trust her. Vito has always been a fool for a pretty face.”
Paxton crossed his arms. He wanted to remind her that Aerity was queen now, but held his tongue. “I can tell you it’s true that she harbored anger toward her father, and that her views on Lashed were far more open than his. I don’t think you need to worry about her. She would appease the Lochlan masses and keep them from revolt, and the prince could easily overrule her when needed.”
Rozaria observed him skeptically. “Are you a fool for her pretty face as well?”
“I don’t find her pretty,” Paxton said matter-of-factly.
Rozaria’s eyes softened, and she seemed appeased for the moment.
I find her absolutely gorgeous, he thought.
A crash sounded, followed by laughter, and Rozaria raised an arm in frustration. “You’re not to break general valuables, only Lochlan artifacts!” She marched into the crowd and began shouting in Kalorian.
Paxton’s eyes glazed as he thought. When they’d left the king’s office, a swarm of Kalorian soldiers and Rozaria’s Lashed Ones had been let into the castle. From what Rozaria translated for him, the land takeover had been tragically fast. It seemed that the Lochlan navy had bested the Kalorian fleet, sinking every single one of their vessels, but the remaining Lochlan ships sailed north rather than returning to the royal port that was now overrun by the enemy.
Rozaria was still shouting orders to people as she made her way back to Paxton’s side. “This hall is being cleared for our injured who need healing. They’re bringing them in now.”
“I’ll help,” Paxton told her.
He was glad of the distraction and the excuse to leave the castle. It was pitch-dark out, but fires had been lit around the castle, burning piles of Lochlan artifacts and trees that had caught fire during blasts. From afar Paxton could make out the naval quarters and army barracks, all burning brightly. Out in the port was a line of Kalorian cannons facing the sea, ready to strike any Lochlan ships that dared return. Battle-weary hotlands soldiers who’d escaped injury flooded into the gates of the west commons, where tents had already been erected. Shivering Kalorians passed him, carrying wounded men.
It didn’t feel real to Paxton. In the darkness and cold with foreign words spoken all around him, it felt like a nightmare of confusion and wrongness. Paxton saw a soldier struggling to pull an injured man, and he ran over to take the feet and help carry him into the warmth of the castle. Once they got him in High Hall, Paxton set to healing the man himself.
Many of the men were missing limbs and died before they could be healed. To Paxton’s disgust, those bodies were thrown from the windows into a heap. Aye, High Hall was becoming overcrowded, but he was appalled that anyone would treat their dead with such lack of respect.
Paxton’s injured man had been burned on his shoulder and arm. He cried out and tried to move away when Paxton went to remove his tunic.
“Sh, I’m going to heal you. You’ll feel better soon.”
The man struggled, in pain, not understanding a word Paxton said. He worked quickly, holding the man down with a knee and pressing his free hand to the man’s good shoulder while he worked with the other hand.
A blissful sensation of energy filled Paxton as fresh, new muscle and skin began to form over the man’s arm. His head thrashed back and forth, but Paxton continued until all of the blackened spots were pushed outward and wiped away, showing only golden skin. The man lay panting, his face sweating. He slowly opened his eyes and dared a look at his arm. Then a disbelieving smile came to his face. He babbled in Kalorian and Paxton nodded.
“All better.”
The hunger and exhaustion from earlier had disappeared under the influence of magic flowing through Paxton’s body now. If he could keep healing people, perhaps he could continue to go without sleep for a while longer. He had no idea how he could get the forces underground to safety, and he needed time to think. He couldn’t imagine that they’d been able to cram more than forty soldiers into the tunnel with all the staff. There was no possible way they could come above and fight the hundreds of Kalorians who still lived.
He needed to find a time when he could sneak to the basement past the cellars and pantry, where stores of wool, cotton, and feathers were kept to replenish bedding. It was said that the entrance was hidden beneath a rusted chest that had been bolted into the floor. He had to warn them and see about restocking their food and water. But they couldn’t stay below forever. He’d have to find a way to get them out.
Paxton ran outside to find another person to heal. On his way back inside with a man draped over his shoulder, he was passed by soldiers carrying armfuls of wine cases up from the cellars. They spoke animatedly, laughing.
They were planning to celebrate.
Paxton brought the man into High Hall and lowered him to the floor, concentrating on his shattered knee until every shard of bone had fused. When finished, Paxton wiped his brow. Fine skirts of deep blue swished next to him. Paxton raised his chin to look at Rozaria’s face. She’d changed and brushed her hair. When she held out a hand, he took it and stood. In her other hand was a bottle of wine.
“I enjoy watching you work,” she said. “But now it is time to relax.” At the sound of those words, his insides did the exact opposite of relaxing. If she was referring to more time alone, he couldn’t stomach it. No more. Touching Rozaria was wrong on too many levels. She held out the bottle of wine, but he held up a hand.
“I cannot relax when there is still work to be done,” he said. “You enjoy it.”
“You do not know the meaning of relaxing, do you, hunter?”
Paxton huffed a laugh from his nose. “I suppose not.”
She ran a hand up his chest. “Well, I think we are all tired. I imagine they’ll drink every drop in the castle and then sleep half the day away tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Paxton said. What he really wanted just then was to find out what happened between the prince and Aerity and to see if she was okay. He had to carefully fish for information. “I take it the prince has found suitable accommodations within the castle?”
“Mm, he found the king’s chambers and he’s probably sleeping like a plump babe as we speak. He needs as much sleep as a youngling. As for the girl, she’s not to leave her chambers.”
His chest jumped at this mention of Aerity. “Under the watch of guards, I presume,” he said.
“Yes, though I think he will not waste any time before marrying her. Possibly even tomorrow.” Paxton stopped breathing for several long moments before forcing himself to respond.
“I suppose that makes sense for him.”
“Yes. She is key to getting the people to accept his rule. But she will always be under lock and key. That is his nature. To control. The girl may believe she’ll be queen in all ways, but she will be a puppet of Vito. A plaything. And he will eventually tire of her.” This seemed to delight her to no end.
Paxton cursed the prince to the darkest depths of the seas. “He is a smart man.”
He is a dead man.
Rozaria raised the bottle and took a drink.
“I’m going to patrol,” he told her. “I’ll try to find you when I’m done.”
“I’ll be in the south
Lord and Lady chambers.”
Paxton nodded and walked from High Hall, breathing deeply once he was away from her. When he was at the end of the hall he glanced back and saw Nicola walk out of High Hall alone. He went down the next hall, down the steps, and toward the library. He wanted to get a better idea of how many were in the castle, and which rooms they occupied. The library was completely empty, but he noticed the shelves had been ransacked and the books torn. He gritted his teeth at the shameful display.
Back in the hallway he headed toward the indoor archery range, but he could have sworn the wall tapestry swayed. He slowed and watched. It didn’t move again. Paxton stepped into the doorway of the range and found it surprisingly empty, as well. Nobody was using this wing.
From the corner of his eye he saw the tapestry move again. So slight, like a flimsy branch in a breeze, but definite movement. Paxton slid into the archery room and hid behind the door. He pulled a dagger from under his shirt. Seconds later, Nicola slowly and silently moved into the room. Paxton reached one arm around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and stuck the tip of the dagger to her throat.
“Why are you following me?” he asked.
Somehow she was able to maneuver her hand upward so that one fingertip touched his forearm. A singe of pain burned Paxton’s skin and he flung her away. She spun to face him, her hood falling back to reveal her angry face.
He took a stance in front of the door to block her, brandishing his blade. “Why, Nicola?”
“You do not care for her, Lochlan,” she spat. “She is deceived but I am not.”
Curses. He had no time for this. Paxton stood and shoved the dagger back into its sheath at his chest, then tugged his tunic back down. She seemed taken aback and stood taller as well.
“You’re not the first to accuse me of not caring,” he said. “I’ve never been good at showing feelings and all of that nonsense when it comes to women. But what Rozaria and I have is mutual. She understands me. I appreciate your concern for her, but it’s wrongly placed.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Get in line,” Paxton told her in a raised voice. She scowled. “I need to get back to patrolling. I know this castle better than your men, so I want to check everything out myself. You’re welcome to join me and watch my every move if you feel you must.”
He turned and walked out of the room, keenly aware of just how far she was from him while his back was to her, and what distance he needed to keep in case she decided to leap and grab at him with her deadly little hands.
When he passed High Hall he was relieved to see her go inside and stay there. Aye, Paxton would not be able to sleep anytime soon. She didn’t trust him, and he sure as the depths didn’t trust her either.
Chapter
41
They were getting drunk, Aerity realized. She stared from her bedroom window, watching the revelry below as the sun rose, turning the horizon from dark blue to gray. Kalorian soldiers were everywhere. These weren’t the respectful tribesmen who had come to fight in the hunt. Those men valued life. These men were something altogether different. They were wild, without rules or boundaries. They threw one another to the ground, threw empty bottles, shot arrows straight up into the air.
And worst of all were the caged beasts in the middle of the west commons. They taunted them with spears and torches. Aerity couldn’t make out the creatures in detail, but she could hear their maddened howls and see their paws swiping at the perpetrators. She rushed away from the window and curled up at the headboard of her bed with the heels of her hands pressed firmly into her eyes. She rocked back and forth.
This could not be happening.
She thought of all the ways she could escape. The windows were definitely out. She’d lower herself right into the west commons with the madmen. She thought about opening the door and smashing her vase over the guard’s head. But what if there were more than one? And surely the halls were filled with them.
Aerity’s eyes scanned her room, looking for anything that might be used as a weapon. But what her gaze landed on was her bookshelf. She stared at it. At nine years of age she’d begged her parents to remove the dusty old books and allow her to fill the shelves with more interesting stories. They’d given her the bottom three shelves for her own tales but told her the top shelf of books was to remain—that she would appreciate them someday and not to bother with them yet.
Hope sprang to life as she ran to the bookshelf. She pulled at the books on the top shelf, flinging them to the floor one by one to reveal plain boards behind them . . . until she got three-quarters of the way through, and those books stuck. Her heart absolutely pounded now. Three of the books were fused together, just as the ones had been on the bookshelf in her father’s office. She grasped the top of them and pulled down with all her might until she heard a click. And then she pushed the bookshelf.
Oh, seas! It was moving! She glanced at her chamber door. All this time there’d been a hidden place in her room and she hadn’t known it! How many more were there throughout the castle? She held back an exhilarated laugh.
Unlike the hidden room in the office, this one smelled musty, and a small cloud of dust plumed out as the bookshelf swung outward. She glanced toward her door again and listened to be sure no one was coming. When she heard nothing, she stepped in, careful to keep the bookshelf from shutting.
What she found in the dim light was not a room at all. It was a passageway. Aerity examined the back of the bookcase and found a lever just where the set of books was. Unlike the vault in the office, this door could be opened from within. She looked down the narrow passage and saw an old torch on the wall. All she needed was to find something to light the torch and then she could leave. The passageway was pitch-dark otherwise.
Aerity went back into her room and tugged the bookshelf doorway closed before rushing to the hearth. She knew Caitrin kept a box with kindling, tinder, and flint around there somewhere. They weren’t on the mantel, only boring old urns and candelabras. She rushed to the side table and was about to open the drawer when voices sounded from the hall. Aerity sucked in a breath and spun around. She looked to the bookcase to be sure nothing was amiss and saw the books she’d flung to the floor.
Seas alive! She fell to her knees and snatched them into her arms before leaping to her feet again and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf and rushing away from the bookcase, brushing dust from her skirts.
Go away, go away, go away, she silently begged to whoever was out there. But they didn’t. Footsteps got closer. Low, male voices. The door handle was moving. When it opened she felt her mouth open in a gasp.
Paxton. His expression was hard and guarded. She had to keep from running to him because he wasn’t alone. He had a large Kalorian man with him who Aerity recognized at once as the brute Martone. Her eyes went large, remembering their time together in that tower room, and she looked down. He was the first to speak, using his native tongue.
“I am told you speak Kalorian.” His voice was gruff.
Aerity nodded, afraid to respond, worried he might recognize her voice.
“Prince Vito will rest today, and marry you tonight.”
Aerity brought a hand to her throat, tasting bitterness.
“Very good,” she whispered.
“He says for you to write a declaration to send to the people telling them of your union. He will approve it before it is sent out.”
Aerity nodded, swallowing hard. Martone walked to her tall chest of drawers and opened the top drawer, lifting her undergarments in a meaty fist and peering beneath them.
“What are you doing?” she asked in Kalorian.
“Removing any weapons.” The brute pointed to her desk. “Write.”
Aerity walked to the desk and sat, her hand shaking as she opened the top drawer and slid out a piece of parchment, quill, and ink. Once she wrote this, things would forever change in Lochlanach. The people would never trust her again if they thought she was willingly uniting with the e
nemy, handing them over to his rule.
“A seamstress is on her way,” Martone said as he tore another drawer open and rummaged through it.
Aerity’s eyes flitted to Paxton, who made a show of opening her wardrobe and pushing gowns aside while sneaking a look at her. She could see the calculating thoughts in his eyes as he tried to come up with a way out of this. She needed to be alone with him to tell him of the passageway.
Aerity turned her head enough to speak quietly over her shoulder.
“Sir, if you would be so kind, will you please relay a message to the prince on my behalf? It is important, so I need it to be conveyed by someone worthy of the prince’s trust.”
Martone stood taller. “What is the message?”
Her mind desperately cranked out a weak idea. “Please tell him I am also writing letters to the other three kingdoms. I need to know if there is anything he wishes me to include. They’ll need to be issued straightaway to keep the other kingdoms from interfering in our plans.”
Martone paused, then nodded. He looked at Paxton and pointed to Aerity, as if he was to keep an eye on her. Paxton nodded his head. Her hopes soared. Blessed seas!
Martone stomped his way out of the room and pulled the chamber door shut harder than was necessary. Before Aerity could even stand all the way, Paxton was in front of her, grasping her shoulders and hissing.
“You are not marrying him!”
“Sh!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bookshelf, whispering. “There’s a passage!”
“Wha—”
She reached for the books and pulled, releasing the old lever.
“Great seas,” Paxton whispered. Before she could get it open all the way he was pressing her inward and pulling the door closed. They were immersed in darkness and Aerity’s heart was thumping so loud he could probably hear it.