The Great Hunt (13 page)

“Good day to you,” Aerity said to the Seabolt brothers. She grabbed her brother and sister, looking around for Wyneth.

She found her cousin standing over by a table talking to none other than Lord Lief Alvi. They kept a respectable distance, Lief full of grinning confidence and Wyneth smiling shyly. Harrison stood with them, his arms crossed in silence as he watched the two of them converse. Wyneth’s eyes met Aerity’s and she said good-bye to the Ascomannian lord and Harrison before gathering her skirts and rushing to meet her cousins at the gates. Aerity sent a wave to Harrison, who only nodded. He seemed in a strange mood all of a sudden.

Donubhan and Vixie walked ahead of them, following two guards. Aerity sidled close to her cousin and they synchronized their steps.

“What were you and Lord Alvi chatting about?” Aerity whispered.

Wyneth kept her eyes on the stone walkway. “Nothing of importance. He was asking if I could do the trick as well. I had to explain that I’m not inclined toward physical talents.”

True. Wyneth’s primary talents were the arts, something Aerity wished she could do.

“And what about Harrison? He seemed off.”

Wyneth’s eyebrows scrunched. “Aye. He didn’t say much, but I had the distinct feeling he doesn’t care much for Lord Alvi.”

“I wonder why?”

“Protective of me, maybe. Bit of a flirt, that coldman.”

“Indeed. Lord Alvi seems . . . keen,” Aerity murmured. She wondered if the man knew Wyneth had just lost her beloved to the very beast he was hunting.

“He’s agreeable for an Ascomannian,” Wyneth said diplomatically.

Under other circumstances Aerity would have probed for more, even joked about the man’s “agreeable” muscled arms, but it was simply too soon to speak of other men to Wyneth, even in jest. And given that Lief was in the running for Aerity’s hand in marriage it seemed uncouth.

Aerity wondered if the days of comfortable, easy conversation would ever return.

“Do you think Uncle Charles is angry?” Wyneth asked.

“Who cares?” Vixie scoffed.

“I’m sure he wasn’t happy seeing Vixie and Donny out there,” Aerity answered. “Probably thinks they’re being a nuisance and bothering the men. Doesn’t want anyone making jesters of the kingdom.”

“I’m not a nuisance!” Vixie’s scoffing continued.

Aerity recalled the conversation they’d just had with the hunters, and her sister’s unfiltered questions. “You have to be careful what you say to these men, Vixie. It’s all very . . . touchy. And personal.” To her, as well.

Vixie rolled her eyes. “You know I’m not one to hold my tongue.”

“Aye, I know.” Aerity sighed.

“Well, all three of you were well received, I thought,” Wyneth said. “The men needed a break.”

“Agreed.” Aerity linked her arm with her cousin, then her sister. “You’ll join us so you can tell him that yourself?”

Wyneth sighed. “Oh, fine. I’m not afraid of Uncle Charles. Your mother, on the other hand . . .”

The girls giggled quietly as they entered the castle.

“Must you always have something snide to say in the princess’s company?” Tiern asked as he followed his brother to the sharpening post.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paxton removed his quiver and began taking out his arrows, examining the head of each.

Tiern stopped in front of him. “You needn’t be so gruff with her. It’s embarrassing.”

“Deep seas, Tiern,” Paxton muttered. “Men don’t embarrass.”

“
You
don’t embarrass, Pax. Sometimes I wonder if you feel anything at all.” Tiern dropped his quiver with a clatter and sat, draping his arms across his bent knees.

Paxton ran his thumb over the tip of an arrow. Just a fraction more pressure and it would cut through the tough pad of skin. Tiern knew nothing of what he felt, and he planned to keep it that way.

“All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t kill you to show a bit of kindness to Princess Aerity. She’s been nothing but pleasant to us.”

“It’s all an act.” Paxton slid the sharpened arrow back into the quiver.

“Must you always be so cynical? Can you not acknowledge genuine kindness and beauty when it’s right in front of you?”

Paxton grunted. He didn’t want to think about her. Aerity.

How she’d controlled her body so fluidly as she’d flipped and landed with complete grace, her hair fanning out like a sunset.

Or that she’d focused on the target and owned it—an action that spoke to Paxton in a language he could understand.

He’d never in all his days seen a lass do something like that. It made him wish he could dive into the deep, dark ocean afar to cool himself. He longed to rid his mind of these unwelcome thoughts.

Again, Paxton grunted.

The royal children clearly had too much time on their hands. And despite what his brother thought, he believed
every person needed to be put in their place from time to time. Especially the rich ones.

“Here.” Paxton tossed the sharpening block to Tiern. “Hurry up and tend to your arrows so we can rest before dinner. Focus on the hunt, not the lasses.”

Perhaps he should take that advice himself.

From his spot on the ground, Tiern’s eyes widened. Paxton turned to see what he was gaping at. Lord Lief Alvi had approached them with a rolled map in hand. Paxton admired the man’s vest of fine rabbit fur.

“You’re locals, correct?” Lief asked.

“Aye.” Paxton stood and his brother followed. “From Cape Creek, a village fifteen miles northeast of here.”

Lief nodded, unrolling his map. “My men are adamant about hunting on our own for now, and since the total numbers of hunters are great enough I have agreed.” The lord sounded reluctant, but Paxton knew that part of what made a great leader was compromise. So they would keep to their original groups. Lief needn’t state the obvious—that his men wanted the glory of the kill and the prize of the foreign princess to themselves—things Lief could surely appreciate, even if the methods of his men weren’t the smartest.

Harrison and Samuel approached, nodding their greeting as they joined the conversation.

Together, the men plotted the best areas for each of the four groups to scout that evening. They decided to hunt in a slightly closer range, rather than spreading out as they had the
night before. This would give them an opportunity to give chase to the beast, from group to group, possibly keeping it in their sights.

Once everything was decided, they called over the leaders of the Zorfinan and Kalorian groups and explained the plan. All were in agreement. With that, Paxton and Tiern retired to their small tent in the corner of the commons and slept deeply, garnering energy for what was to come.

Raised voices of their fellow hunters woke the brothers. They jumped from their cots, running out to see what was happening. The men were grouped, surrounded by guards, and as the brothers got nearer, Paxton noticed four new hunters standing in the middle, tall and proud in fitted black outerwear with black head scarves wound about their faces. Wicked bows made of animal’s antlers were slung across their backs.

“. . . not hunting with women,” Paxton heard Volgan grumble loudly. His eyes went back to the newcomers, to their high cheekbones and long lashes against dark skin.

In a flash, one of the women stepped forward and whipped out her bow, nocking her arrow and stretching it back just inches from Volgan’s nose. Her stance was strong. Paxton felt his eyes go as wide as Volgan’s, who had lifted his palms in surrender. That man hadn’t made any friends on this hunt. A hush ran through the hunters.

“Zandalee hunt,” the woman said in a thick accent.

“Whoa,” Tiern whispered, matching Paxton’s astonishment.

The Zandalee women were famous throughout Eurona but were spoken of as if mythical—a matriarchal tribe in southern Zorfina between the desert and the sea, bordering Kalor. A tribe where the women ruled. When Lochlan women were feisty, the men often joked that they were going Zandalee. But these women were nothing to joke about. They looked as if they could snap a man’s neck with their bare hands.

“Easy now,” said one of the guards. “Lower your weapon.”

The woman grunted out a word Paxton couldn’t understand. Then, slowly, she took her bow fromVolgan’s pale face, scowling at him.

“Everyone step back so we can figure this out.” The guards pushed their way in and faced the four women. The main guard hesitated, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. Then he lamely asked, “Eh, what can we do for you?”

“Zandalee hunt,” the woman repeated in a solid voice.

“Zandalee?” Asked the guard. “Are you saying you are a Zandalee? And you want to hunt?”

“Speak Zorfina.” She rolled the
r
harshly, making her sound even tougher.

The guard massaged the back of his neck and looked toward the male Zorfinan hunters. They shook their heads and stepped back as if they wanted nothing to do with the Zandalee women. The guard spoke to another guard over his
shoulder. “Go to the castle and find someone who can interpret Zorfinan.”

Awkward minutes passed in which the male hunters stared down the female hunters, some whispering, as the women stared back with challenge in their eyes. Tiern gave Paxton an awestruck look as if enjoying the show.

Moments later, Paxton was surprised to see Princess Aerity return with an older officer at her side, flanked by guards. Her eyes went to the women with curiosity.

“Eh, Princess,” said the guard. “These women . . . I believe they wish to join the hunt, but . . .”

Aerity’s eyebrows went up as she moved forward. Guards pressed around her, forcing the male hunters to step away. Aerity spoke to the women in Zorfinan, accentuating the inflections, surprising Paxton with her level of fluency. She looked so petite standing there, conversing with an upward tilt of her head. A smile of admiration split her face and she turned back to the officer.

“These are women of the Zandalee, truly! They’ve sent their strongest hunters—isn’t this brilliant?” The man’s eyebrows shot up as he eyed the women in disbelief.

After several minutes of conversing, the princess nodded and turned to the hunters. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “The Zandalee will join the hunt. If one of them kills the beast, the brother of their head huntress, Zandora”—she motioned toward the woman she spoke with—“will collect the . . . reward on her behalf.” Once again the princess cleared
her throat. Hunters muttered to one another under their breath.

“Wait just a moment.” The officer frowned. “Your Highness, I think we should discuss this with your father—”

“There is nothing to discuss,” Aerity snapped. “They are brave enough to join the hunt, so they shall hunt. I have accepted their terms. It is done, and I will alert the king.” She lifted her skirts in her fists and shared a nod with the Zandalee huntress, then kept her eyes firmly ahead as she marched away. The guards quickly followed, leaving the hunters gaping in shock. Paxton grudgingly admired the princess’s open acceptance of the unorthodox agreement.

Zandora’s gaze scouted the males as they all slowly retreated into their respective tented areas, whispering their dismay and casting backward looks.

Paxton, Tiern, Samuel, and Harrison stood there glancing around at one another before moving forward to the women. The Lochlan men stood eye to eye with the Zandalee women, who were a strange mix of feminine features and rough edges. They wore a stretchy sort of black cloth belted around their narrow waists, with head coverings that hid their hair and necks. They appeared as warriors, in contrast to the male hunters from other tribes of Zorfina who wore browns and tans to blend with desert sands.

Harrison was the first to give a small bow of his head. “Welcome to Lochlanach.”

Paxton wasn’t sure if the woman understood, but she
inclined her head as well, and the rest of them did the same, showing their respect.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Tiern said, and Paxton sensed a babble coming on. “We’ve grown up hearing about the Zandalee, but we didn’t know if you were real. High seas, you’re amazing! You’re—”

“Tiern,” Paxton cut in. “That’s enough.”

Tiern, unperturbed, turned his awestruck eyes back to the girl before him, who appeared to be the youngest. She reached up and grabbed his chin, giving it a pinch in her fingertips. Zandora chuckled.

“
Khoshteep
,” she purred in Zorfinan, and the women gave mischievous laughs.

Tiern let out a nervous laugh of his own as the women sized him up. Paxton coughed into his hand to hide his mirth.

“Join us for a meal?” Harrison asked, pointing to the tables, which were currently being laden with food. Other hunters were beginning to make their way over again.

As the Lochlan men turned to lead their group to the table, the younger Zandalee squeezed Tiern on the bottom, making him yelp, his eyes going round. The women kept walking, and Paxton could not hold back a chuckle at the scandalized look on his brother’s face. Thankfully none of the other hunters seemed to have noticed.

“By the tides,” Tiern hissed. “I feel like a piece of meat!” He didn’t sound particularly upset about it, though.

“Aye.” Samuel chuckled under his breath. “I think
someone wanted a slice of Tiern for supper.”

Tiern couldn’t stop smiling, unlike the other hunters, who were all still frowning and stewing about this newest development.

The Zandalee didn’t back down from anyone. They met the stares head on, throwing off airs of confrontation. Paxton was enjoying the addition of the huntresses more and more, especially as they sat down to eat with their weathered hands, grubbing with the best of them. When one of the Zorfinan hunters stared at them from under his head wrap, a snarl of contempt on his face, Zandora held up two curved fingers, like snake fangs, and hissed at him. He pursed his lips and dropped his eyes. The women laughed.

Paxton wondered what the story there was. Zorfina, like most of Eurona, was patriarchal. Were the men from other tribes ashamed of this matriarchal tribe in their midst? Kingdom politics were a funny thing. To each his own.

The Seabolt brothers grabbed turkey legs and slices of hearty bread before gearing up for the night’s hunt. The sun had already dipped low over the sea, casting shadows within the west commons, as lingering sunlight sparkled off the far waters of the ocean. The beat of the Kalorian drum rose up. Sounds of the hotlands ritual filled every space of the commons as the men and women prepared.

Anticipation filled the space between the hunters. As a whole, they kept their voices down, speaking only as needed. Quivers and bows were donned, long daggers sheathed, and
leather boots tied. In a moment of surprised unity, men and women of all the nationalities nodded in respect as their eyes met.

The hunters raised their gazes as people filled the balcony above. In front was the entire royal family, come to see them off. The woman standing next to Lady Wyneth dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. All around them were servants and guards. Nobody spoke, but an understanding stretched along the autumn winds.

Paxton spared his last look for Princess Aerity. Even from afar she seemed to be looking right at him. She brought her slender fingertips to her lips and left them there, as if her hand could keep her emotions from escaping.

Paxton heard Tiern sigh. The sap.

In silence, the hunters grouped together, the Zandalee joining the Lochlans without question as they set out. Paxton did not look up again.