“Perhaps these are only travelers,” Paxton guessed. “Gypsies. We can go around them.”
Zandora shook her head. “I am bored. Let us approach. Perhaps we can find someone to fight.”
A breath of laughter huffed quietly out of Paxton’s nose as he shouldered his pack and bow. In truth, a fight with strangers didn’t sound like a bad idea to him either.
They approached the clearing and watched from behind the trees. Paxton counted seven people milling about, ranging from a young girl to two middle-aged men. They were doing everything from cooking and scrubbing laundry to playing cards of some sort. Two of the men had the smooth, shaved heads of Torestans and olive skin. Their garments were threadbare. Three horses were tied under a thatched stall of sorts. Definitely travelers from afar.
A structure stood nearby, two stories high with a watchtower of sorts on a third level. The rock and mud masonry appeared beaten, chunks missing and broken, as if the building had been through a war. Beyond the structure was a wide lake, so still the surface reflected the grayish sky. Near the people were three tents propped open.
“I’ll approach first,” Paxton offered. He touched his bow and felt for the arrows in his quiver before stepping out of the trees. The moment he entered the clearing all eyes snapped to him. All three men and two lads jumped to their feet. A sudden zap of something in the air buzzed warmly across Paxton’s skin.
They were Lashed, like him. He could feel their energy. He slowly raised the palms of his hands to show peace and began walking forward again. One of the men grabbed a wooden club and the other reached for a bow. Paxton turned his hands around to show his nails. His heart was pounding as he got close enough for the people to see the purple lines that ran through the middle and bottoms of his nails—lashed marks from when he’d started fires for warmth and to cook food, and to heal his brother. The people seemed to relax a fraction, but they didn’t move.
“My name is Paxton Seabolt, and I’m traveling through with my three companions to the drylands of Zorfina. We mean no harm.” He couldn’t help but look toward the hands of the men, thrilling to see purple lines on two of them as well.
“You sound Lochlan,” the older of the men said with distrust. His Euronan was choppy. Torestans were known for not speaking Euronan, just as most Lochlans did not speak Torestan.
“I am . . . formerly Lochlan,” Paxton said, “but no longer.”
“Because you are Lashed?” The shorter man ran a hand over his smooth head.
Paxton nodded, feeling that pit of loss stir deep within him.
The travelers had all come forward now, and their eyes grew wide as they looked past Paxton. The Zandalee had entered the clearing on their horses.
“They are friends of the Lashed,” Paxton explained. “Women of the Zandalee tribe.”
The travelers all gasped and stared, whispering. The warrior women were a sight in their fitted black leathers with black head scarves, their blue eyes bright against dark skin. As the Zandalee approached and dismounted, Paxton introduced them.
“This is their leader, Zandora; her middle sister, Zula; and the youngest sister, Zaleek. The younger two only speak Zorfinan.”
The huntresses eyed the people and their camp in full before nodding. Zandora seemed disappointed that nobody wanted to fight.
“We are three families,” the Torestan man said. “Two from Toresta and one from Eastern Lochlanach near our borders.” He pointed to a man with a mop of stringy brown hair and gaunt cheeks. “My name is Chun Aval. I worked as King Gavriil’s chef until I did magic to save my daughter from a severe burn in the kitchens. It was then, as we packed to flee, that my brother also admitted one of his sons is Lashed. We left in the night without a word and found this Lochlan on the path, facedown and near starvation. He had been beaten. We could not leave him when we saw his lash marks.”
The Lochlan man put his hands behind his back, as if on instinct, and stared down at the ground.
So, this man Chun had worked for the royalty—that explained he and his family’s language education.
Chun introduced them to everyone in their group: his wife, daughter, brother, and two nephews. Only Chun, his nephew, and the Lochlan man were Lashed. Paxton set down his pack and joined the men sitting on fallen logs while the Zandalee went to explore the lake.
“What brought you to Kalor?” Paxton asked.
“Rumor of Prince Vito’s Lashed sympathies,” Chun said. “Our king and leaders in Toresta do not trust the prince, so I wondered. And it has been true. Twice on our journey we encountered Kalorian tribes who let us be when they saw our markings. Some even traded goods to have their tribesmen healed of various ailments. Each time they pointed south and told us, Lake Rainiard. So we have come. We have been here three days and seen no one.”
“But there were signs that others were here just before us,” the Lochlan man said quietly from the other end of the log.
“What is your name?” Paxton asked him.
“Konor. Konor Shoal.”
“What signs did they leave, Konor?”
“They’d buried their scraps and covered their fire, and the dirt looked fresh.”
Paxton was riveted. Was Prince Vito truly breaking the Eurona Pact by allowing magic and giving refuge to Lashed from other lands?
“We are not sure who to trust,” said Chun. “While we are glad for our safety, we fear the Rocato woman who has created these creatures in all the lands. If Prince Vito is in partnership with her—”
“What did you say?” Paxton’s heart was a hammer inside his ribs. “They’re in partnership?”
“It is rumored among the Torestan nobles,” Chun answered. “I heard a great many things while serving meals.”
This was not good news. “And what do you mean creatures in all the lands?”
“Haven’t you heard, man?” asked Chun. “There were notices on all the paths. . . .”
“We kept off the paths,” he explained.
Paxton’s head began to split. The beast was dead—all was supposed to be safe. He wouldn’t have left Lochlanach if he had thought otherwise. What was happening there?
The other Torestan man, Chun’s brother, pulled a worn, folded paper from his pocket and handed it warily to Paxton, who flipped it open and ran his eyes over the words in disbelief. They were written in all languages.
Granddaughter of Rocato . . . created the beasts with Lashed powers . . . burn Lashed lists . . . terrorize all the lands until the laws are changed . . .
“One group of travelers said they think this is where she comes to—what is the word?” Chun thought and snapped his fingers. “Ah, recruit. I do not know what to think of this woman. Some speak of her as evil, while other Lashed revere her as a savior. She is building an army of Lashed from those like us who want to fight for our freedom to do magic.”
“Extraordinary.” Paxton handed the paper back to the man, careful not to let his panic show. “Excuse me a moment. I need to inform my companions.” He moved swiftly toward the water, where the Zandalee had taken off their head scarves and looked ready to brazenly strip down. The women turned at his quick approach, their eyes widening when they caught sight of his pale face.
“There are more.” He sucked in a deep breath to steady himself. “More beasts, and they’re in all the lands now. Rozaria Rocato—she has an army of Lashed, and they’re threatening to kill innocents until the laws are changed. It seems that she and Prince Vito are possibly working together, which would mean she has more backing and power than anyone knew.”
Zandora cursed harshly in Zorfinan and translated for her sisters, whose nostrils flared with anger.
“If Zorfina is under attack, we must go there,” Zandora said. Paxton nodded. He understood. But he could not go with them now.
Aye, he wanted freedom for the Lashed, but not by Rozaria’s extreme means. He’d seen innocents killed firsthand. That was not the way. He had to be smart. Where would he have the most advantage over the enemy? I
f there was a chance that Rozaria Rocato would come here, he knew he needed to stay, though it took every ounce of his willpower not to return to Lochlanach that very second to check on his family and Aerity.
A scorch of envy and loss filled his chest. Aerity had Lief to look after her. And she was smart. Resourceful. Paxton needed to remain in Kalor and attempt to find the Rocato woman on her own turf.
Zandora reached out her arm and took Paxton’s shoulder. He did the same, blocking the two of them in. Her hair was long and wild outside its wrap, black as night. She had a smudge of mud along her jaw, and Paxton’s heart swelled. He realized he would miss her. He held tight a moment longer before releasing her. At Zandora’s side, Zula kissed her fingers and touched them to her shoulder, a gesture of love and respect. Paxton nodded.
Zaleek grasped the side of Paxton’s head and pulled him down to kiss the corner of his mouth. Zandora punched her youngest sister in the arm and shoved her away, but the girl only laughed and rushed off, pulling her head scarf around her hair as she went to her horse. Zandora gave Paxton one last roll of her eyes before putting on her own head scarf and swinging herself onto her horse’s back.
“I hope you get all you deserve in this life, dear Pax, which is far more than you think.”
And with those last words from the huntress leader, the women dug their heels into the horses and were gone.
Chapter
4
Princess Aerity stared out from her chamber window that evening at the darkened skies above the royal port. Princess Vixie and Lady Wyneth watched at her side. A massive bonfire had been built outside the west commons and was open to the public. All persons’ hands had been thoroughly checked for lash marks as they entered royal lands, and guards patrolled as far as the eye could see.
Tonight’s spectacle was twofold. People could see the body of the latest creature for themselves and know that their king was capable of keeping them safe. But at the same time the people were watching as their king burned the lists of those who were Lashed, an extreme act that struck fear in traditionalists. The king wanted his people to know that he was trying to appease this madwoman in order to keep his people safe, but Aerity was not expecting peace that night. Her entire being was on high alert.
“We should be down there,” Vixie said. Aerity and Wyneth both shook their heads.
“This is for the people,” Wyneth told her. “And to keep Rozaria from killing again. It is not safe.”
“Since when do you care about your safety, huntress?” A smile of admiration grazed Vixie’s teasing lips. “We heard about how you faced down that monster and made a perfect shot.”
“What I did today . . . I wish I hadn’t been a part of it. And I wish Lord Alvi would not have glamorized my role.” Her voice was so serious that the sisters shared a sad glance and went back to staring out the window in silence.
The princess felt as trapped as she had several months ago when the first beast was on the loose and the royals were ordered to remain in the castle. She’d come to loathe feeling helpless, especially after she’d helped kill the first creature. It didn’t matter that today’s monster had been so swiftly slain, because there were more. Until Rozaria and her like-minded followers were captured, there would always be more.
Hundreds of people gathered around the bonfire, the unnatural creature lifted high on a scaffold beside it. Aerity’s parents watched from the balcony below her window. A line of royal soldiers marched up the cobbled path. Harrison led the way, in uniform, carrying several parchment scrolls. The people moved to make way for them. Harrison and the other soldiers climbed the scaffold and stood before the creature’s body. Harrison appeared to be addressing the crowd, holding up the scrolls.
“He was so kind today,” Wyneth whispered. She leaned her forehead against the glass.
“He’s always such a gentleman, isn’t he?” Vixie asked.
“Always,” Aerity agreed.
They watched as Harrison threw the scrolls one by one into the roaring fire. And then the men set to lifting the beast. Before they had a chance to fully stand, the girls heard a muffled scream through the thick windows. All three pressed their faces closer. A small opening in the crowd revealed a woman laid out on the ground, completely still. Another woman leaned over her, screaming, shaking her head. All around her people began to push and run in different directions.
“Deep seas, what’s happening down there?” Aerity asked.
“Is she dead?” Vixie stared down.
Voices rose and the crowd became a frantic mob. As people fell, others trampled.
“No!” Wyneth covered her face.
Aerity watched in horror. The king and queen were ushered from the balcony back inside the castle as guards and soldiers flooded the grounds below. She couldn’t make sense of anything happening below, so she clambered from the window seat and grabbed her skirts, rushing from her chambers with her sister and cousin close behind.
They ran straight to the king’s office, where she knew her parents would be brought. Moments later they shuffled in with a feeling of high expectancy in the air.
“What in Eurona happened out there?” King Charles asked.
Royals, advisers, and guards all peered around at one another, wearing matching faces of confusion and disappointment. Nobody knew. The king began to pace behind his long desk.
“They will get things under control,” Queen Leighlane tried to assure him, but her lips pursed with worry. The king rubbed his face.
“This is what happens when we take away the people’s stability,” whispered Duke Gulfton, his eyes fervent.
It took only five minutes of waiting, but it felt like the longest five minutes of Aerity’s life before Harrison burst through the door with a paper in his hand. Behind him was another soldier with a young, ragged boy. All three were breathing hard. The boy’s eyes were rimmed in red.
Harrison and the other soldier gave short bows to the king.
“What news?” he asked.
Harrison spoke. “A villager woman was killed, Your Majesty. No signs of a weapon mark, so we can only assume . . .”
“A Lashed One,” the king hissed. “Was he captured?”
Harrison’s face fell. “Not yet, Your Majesty. People began to shout about a Lashed attack and chaos ensued. But the men are searching. And this lad gave this paper to my soldier.” He motioned to the boy and the soldier behind him. “The child says a woman with brown hair and a blue cloak paid him a copper outside the gates to the royal lands to give this paper to a soldier during the burnings. We believe the boy knows nothing else. He claims he can’t read.” Aerity believed it. The boy sniffled and rubbed his eyes. Harrison handed the paper to King Charles. Aerity and the others watched.
He read it through once, and his face grew grave. “Great seas alive.” He motioned to the soldier and said, “Take the boy and find his parents. Question them. See if anyone else saw this woman or knows her whereabouts.”
The soldier saluted and left with the boy.
King Charles wiped his face again. “The letter says, ‘He who attempts to fool is a fool himself. For burning a fake list you shall lose a member of your kingdom. Do not underestimate my reach. Tomorrow morning your complete Lashed lists and the copies you have made will burn or more shall die.’” The king looked up with wide eyes, the room heavy with dread. “There is a traitor among us.”
Aerity stood with water lapping at her legs, the edges of the scene blurred in her mind. She was alone with the great beast. The creature stared eye to eye with her, giving a snuffle against her outreached hand. She was not afraid. She knew it would not harm her. In its own way the monster seemed to smile around its massive tusks, its eyes drifting closed as it took comfort from Aerity’s caress of its wiry jaw. Her stomach lurched, knowing what she must do. Slowly, like a cruel punisher, Aerity dug the sharp blade into the beast’s throat. Its eyes flew open, striking her with a brokenhearted look of disbelief. She twisted the knife and it howled.
Aerity shot upward, awaking in semi-darkness. She blinked to adjust her eyes. Only a dream, only a dream, she reminded herself. Still, she pressed a hand to her clenched abdomen, breathing away the feelings of sadness and guilt that the dream always brought. Her emotions were a snarled mess.
Only the slightest hint of moonlight entered the arched windows as she felt for her slippers with her toes, pushing her feet into them. She peered out over the silent, dark grounds, thinking it all seemed spooky despite its innocuousness.
She needed fresh air but didn’t dare swing open her windows. No flying beasts had been discovered, but they’d been ordered to keep the castle windows closed just in case. Nothing seemed impossible at this point.
Aerity grabbed her robe from the bedpost hook and shrugged her arms into it. She would take a walk to clear her mind of her dream of the monster’s eyes. She passed a guard at the entrance of her chambers, who straightened at the sight of her.
“I’m fine,” she said before he could speak. “I need a walk. I’ll return shortly.”
He gave a nod, but sent a wary look up and down the silent halls, as if danger were lurking around every corner.
Surprise flitted inside her when she became aware where her feet were taking her. Lord Alvi’s quarters. She’d never visited him before. Never had reason. Aerity hadn’t thought of him as a confidant, but she found herself wondering if his kingdom had ever dealt with treason. If he was to be her husband, she would need to learn to turn to him. There were some aspects of the coldlander she respected, such as his leadership and political outlook.
Her feet stopped halfway down Lief’s hall as she realized the ridiculousness of waking him in the middle of the night, though he likely wouldn’t mind. He was open to her in many ways. It’d been she who kept a wall between them. She stood there deliberating when she heard his door click open. Oh. Well, then, that settled it. Perhaps he couldn’t sleep either. She took a step forward as a hushed, breathy, feminine bout of laughter issued from his doorway.