The Great Hunt (4 page)

Vixie frowned and crossed her arms. “It’s still not fair.”

Mrs. Rathbrook let out a sigh.

Since Rocato’s attempt to take over Kalor more than a century ago, magic use had been outlawed everywhere in Eurona, with the exception of a few trusted Lashed who worked for the royalty in all five kingdoms, for their personal healing. All Lashed were required to be registered as soon as their capabilities became known, usually around the age of
seven. Periodically the royal guard would do rounds, and any Lashed found with the markings were hung without question.

It saddened Aerity to think of the lost potential, those tortured for their talents, and she especially abhorred stories of people bullying children who’d just discovered their magical capabilities. Magic was inherited, but it was rare. There seemed to be no pattern, simply random chance.

Now, the Lashed were seen as worse than criminals or diseased. They were outcasts.

Mrs. Rathbrook spoke quietly. “Your father the king is only upholding the laws that have been passed down to him for the safety of the kingdom. He cannot afford to allow that kind of power to threaten us again. And it’s not his fault that his people act out of ignorance and fear. Perhaps someday our kind will be better understood.” Her voice carried an undercurrent of both sadness and hope.

Still, it pained Aerity to think that the innocent Lashed throughout the kingdom were being suspected of this recent madness.

“There’s no way a Lashed One created this monster,” Aerity said.

Mrs. Rathbrook shook her head. “I cannot think of how our power could be used in such a way, but there are many far more powerful than me.”

An icy sting ratcheted up Aerity’s spine. The Lashed could not wave their hands and create a monster from nothing. Their magic didn’t work that way. She refused to believe the
Lashed had anything to do with the great beast.

Mrs. Rathbrook appeared tired after so much talking.

“Can I get you anything?” Aerity asked her.

“No, no, dear. My maid takes good care of me. In a few moments I’ll walk the roof gardens with Officer Vest.”

“Is Mr. Vest your lover lad?” Vixie asked, blinking her wide eyes.

Aerity nearly choked on her own tongue. “High seas, Vixie! That’s none of your concern!” Aerity had always wondered herself if there was romance between them, but she’d never dare ask.

Vixie’s cheeks reddened and she muttered an apology. Aerity realized her sister had probably repeated something she’d heard, not even realizing how improper it was.

Aerity was still in a state of mortification when Mrs. Rathbrook began cackling with laughter.

“Don’t hold your tongue on my account,” the woman said. “Officer Vest is very dear to me. I trust him with my life each day.” She gave the girls a wink and made to stand. Aerity helped her, though the woman seemed quite capable.

“Thank you so very much for visiting. Please come again soon.” Mrs Rathbrook put a hand on Aerity’s arm, and the princess bent to kiss her cheek.

“It was my pleasure. I promise to return.”

Vixie was still blushing when she leaned forward to kiss the woman’s cheek, and then rushed from the chambers, nearly tripping on her skirts.

They’d barely made it to the bottom of the steps when Vixie whispered, “What’s wrong with lover lad?”

“Vixie . . .” Aerity shook her head and silently cursed their mother for not talking with the girls about important things. They learned far too much from the lips of maids. “When someone has a lover it means they have . . . a romantic relationship. Like married people.”

Aerity headed in the direction of the High Hall.

“You mean kissing and the like?” Vixie asked.

“Yes, Vix. And it’s impolite to ask people about such private matters. Understand?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone? Or is that too private for me to ask, even of my sister?”

Aerity sighed. She wanted to shush her sister, but Vixie didn’t have the blessing of a cousin her age or a friend to speak of such things with. Her best friend was her horse.

“I’ve kissed one lad.” On several occasions. She felt Vixie’s big eyes on her.

“Is he your lover, then?”

“No! Stop saying that word.”

“Who was the lad?”

“Breckon’s cousin, the lieutenant.” Her heart gave a squeeze.

“You mean Harrison Gillfin? But he’s twenty! Three years your senior!” Vixie pulled a sour face, as if he were an old man.

Aerity laughed.

“Are you going to marry him?” her sister asked.

This gave Aerity pause. She loved Harrison, but not in that way. They’d tried many a time to force something romantic, but their friendship overrode those notions. Their kisses had lacked passion and often ended in laughter. But during the summer gala when Aerity, Harrison, Breckon, and Wyneth had snuck down to the castle’s wine cellars and shared several bottles of mead, Aerity and Harrison had made a fuzzy-minded pact as they snuggled together between two crates, giving their cousins privacy.

“What if I never find a lad to marry, Harrison? What if I never fall in love, like my parents did? What will the people say if I rule alone?”

She’d been leaning back between Harrison’s legs, and he kissed her hair.

“You will rule well on your own or otherwise. But I will marry you in a heartbeat.”

She’d turned to peer up at his smooth-shaven face. A face she trusted. “You will find a wife long before that.”

He’d stared past her, eyes going blurry for a moment in thought, then took a long drink from his bottle. “I don’t think so, Aer. I will always be here for you.”

But it hadn’t been a confession of love. Of that she felt certain.

“I don’t know, Vixie,” Aerity finally answered. “I’m not sure I’ll ever marry.”

“Me either!” Vixie said.

Aerity pushed open the doors of the High Hall and let out a relieved breath at the sight of their little brother and cousins running about. She pushed heavy thoughts from her mind.

Already the lot of them were at one another’s throats with boredom, whining and shouting, and it had been only three days since they’d been confined to the castle. Princess Aerity had volunteered to entertain the children during the day while studies were suspended, distracting them and keeping them away from the adults, in exchange for having her acrobatic silks brought up from the practice room, which was too small for all of them to play in.

Her youngest cousins, Caileen and Merity, were playing with the silks, running through them, letting the light fabric flow over their heads. Six-year-old Merity grabbed hold of the bottom of the red silk, which hung from the tall ceiling. She tried to climb, but it slipped through her fingers.

“Here,” said Caileen, much wiser and able at eight years of age. “Let me show you.” The girl took hold of the silks as high as she could reach with both hands, and attempted to circle her leg around the bottom. She made a frustrated sound when the fabric wouldn’t catch against her foot, repeatedly sliding through.

Aerity giggled and the girls turned. Their faces brightened.

“Aer! Show us!” Caileen begged.

The princess obliged. “You’ve got to get it nice and tight
around your foot, like a band, to the point where it nearly stings.” She grabbed hold up high with both hands, wound her ankle about the fabric with a downward thrust to tighten, and then placed her other foot securely on top of the silks to leverage it, stepping up. Aerity swung lightly above the ground, her legs locked, muscles tight. She explained each step as she went, then hopped down to let the girls try. “One at a time, youngest first.” Caileen pouted as Merity cheered.

The other six children were loud behind them. Aerity clapped her hands. “Let’s line up and have a race!” Her voice echoed off the slick marble floors, tall stone walls, and massive windows. The room was large enough for grand balls, but it was a poor substitution for running through grasses, climbing trees, and swimming.

“No cheating, Donubhan,” Aerity warned.

Her ten-year-old brother grinned up at her, mischief in his eyes, too adorable with all that thick hair.

Vixie stood with the younger lads and lasses, hiking up her skirts to run, stuck at the age where she still wanted to play, yet also wanted to be treated as a grown woman when the mood struck.

Aerity lifted her arm and lowered it, shouting, “Go!”

Redheads of every shade dashed across the High Hall and Aerity couldn’t help but smile. Her two siblings and eight cousins were safe and exuberant, despite the chaos outside their doors.

All of the royal children were present except Wyneth, the
oldest. She was still in her chamber. Daggers stabbed at Aerity’s heart to imagine what Wyneth had been through. The horrors. She couldn’t fathom the deranged animal her cousin had seen.

Where had such an atrocity come from?

The princess turned to the grand window and stared out at the castle lands. High Hall was the tallest point of the castle besides the towers, with windows adorning all four sides. Marksmen would be on the roofs above them at that moment with their bows strung tight, scouting. Below, the only people about were soldiers, both naval and royal, bustling on their missions. The edginess never left Aerity, even as she tried to hide it from the curious children.

From this western window she could see the commons area and the seas past it with the trade port. Merchant and fishing boats were always going in and out. From the north window was forest and the royal docks along Lanach Creek. From the east window she could see hundreds of acres of lush land, rolling and green. Beyond that, out of sight, was the fortified stone wall that went from Lochlanach Bay above to Oyster Bay below. The south window looked out over the royal markets, where people came from all over to buy, sell, and trade goods.

Looking out at the waterlands kingdom of Lochlanach, the princess was reminded how much they had to lose. The people who worked so hard. The peace her father and his father before him had worked to bring about after years of war.

Now a single creature threatened all of that, and it made Aerity wish she were a warrior princess who could kill the thing herself. But, alas, she had no talents other than acrobatics, swimming, and simple archery. Nothing useful.

The children screamed and laughed behind her, but she hardly heard them. She stared from the giant window at the crashing waves beyond. At sea were naval ships of all sizes. Water, water everywhere. Aerity couldn’t imagine it any other way.

There were the bays and all their wide creeks stretching out like fingers from a palm to touch everything in sight, feeding into rivers, streams, and lakes. Vast fields of vegetation and crops lined forests that backed up to streams and lakes, both saltwater and fresh. At sea were miles of uninhabited barrier islands and tropical islands farther out, which held coveted spices and vegetation used in valuable trades with other kingdoms—all of it in peril.

When her mother arrived in the High Hall with a maid bearing a tray of cinnamon sweetcakes, Princesses Aerity and Vixie rushed to her side. The children abandoned their race and bombarded the maid.

“Mother, may I visit the stables now?” Vixie begged. “The horses have never gone this long without me.”

“I know, dear,” said the queen. “But your father still doesn’t want you to leave the castle. The horses are being tended.”

While Vixie pouted, Aerity stepped up.

“Mother, may I see Wyneth?” Aerity asked. “Please.”

The queen pressed her lips together. Her eyes dropped.

“She is not well, love. She won’t speak.”

Aerity swallowed hard at the thought of joy-filled Wyneth gone silent.

“I won’t bother her. I swear.” It was killing her to be kept away.

Queen Leighlane thought about it and Aerity’s spirits soared when she finally nodded. “Perhaps seeing you would be best for her. But don’t be offended if she wants you to leave. Don’t press her. Understand?”

“Aye.”

“And be gentle with your aunt Ashley. She’s not herself either.”

Aerity nodded, sad to hear it.

Her mother’s maid stayed to watch over the children while Aerity rushed to her cousin’s chambers. Wyneth’s mother, the oldest of the king’s younger sisters, sat on a cushioned bench in the hall, a handkerchief held loosely in her hand as she stared at the wall.

It hurt to see this strong woman appear lost and broken. Lady Ashley’s usually pristine dress was slightly crumpled. More faded hairs than ever streaked her red locks. Princess Aerity knelt with her hands on her aunt’s knees and lowered her head in respect.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Aunt Ashley.”

Everyone knew she’d loved her future son-in-law. They’d all loved Breckon.

Lady Ashley softly patted Aerity’s shoulder but said nothing. The princess stood silently and went to Wyneth’s room. She knocked twice and pushed the heavy wooden door open. The curtains had been drawn, and no lamps were lit, blanketing the room in darkness. Aerity’s first instinct was to brighten the space, but she didn’t want to shock her cousin’s eyes.

Wyneth lay curled in the middle of the bed, a grievous sight. The princess rarely found reason to cry, but she feared she might now. She climbed onto the bed and curled herself around Wyneth, swallowing back the burn of moisture. Aerity pressed her cheek to the back of her cousin’s head and rested her palm against her arm.