At this, Rozaria’s face lit up, and a delighted peal of laughter rang out as she clasped her hands under her chin. Her attention was all for Paxton.
Please let this work, he begged the seas.
He gave Rozaria an imploring look, as if to ask May I?
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and Paxton forced a conspiratorial grin to his face.
Rozaria held out an arm as if waving him forward. “If you feel so inclined.”
Relief rippled through him, and he met the prisoner’s wild eyes. He raised both hands and took the man’s face in his.
“Please, sir,” the Lochlan rasped.
“Sh . . . I think you’ve said enough in your day.”
Paxton’s heart thrummed wildly.
The man frantically looked deeper into Paxton’s eyes, and when he found no sympathy there, the prisoner’s look of panic morphed into hardened hatred. He rasped out one word as his eyes bulged: “Monster.”
Behind the man, Rozaria sucked in a breath. Paxton’sstomach turned over. He held the foolish man’s head harder, willing him to be silent, and began to concentrate. Rather than pushing his magic down to the man’s heart to stop it as Rozaria wanted, Paxton pushed it upward into the man’s mind. He’d never done anything like this—never tampered with a person’s consciousness. He pressed the magic harder than absolutely necessary and the man whimpered.
Sleep, Paxton thought. He felt his energy inexplicably searching, probing, surging, then a burst of heat flamed from his wrists down to his fingertips. The prisoner shuddered violently, then he became heavy until Paxton felt his magic bumping up against something, as if it were as far as it could go. The man slumped forward, and Paxton caught him. He looked up at Rozaria.
“Where do you dispose of bodies?”
Her eyes—the way she was gazing at him—he’d only seen that kind of passion in women he’d bedded. It pulsed through him, along with the buzzing of magic within his blood.
“Martone will take him,” she said in a husky voice.
Paxton shook his head. Then he bent and lugged the man’s limp body over his shoulder, feeling the desperate need to go before the prisoner awoke from his magical slumber. “He’s my kill. I want to finish it myself.”
“Spoken like a true hunter.” Rozaria pointed at Lake Rainiard where the moon reflected off its dark, glassy surface. “Take him into the woods for the animals on the other side of the lake.”
He began to walk away when he heard her say, “And when you return, see me in my tent.”
Oh, bloody seas.He cursed himself for using his wiles to distract her from the truth. Still, he forced himself to look at her and say, “Of course, Rozaria.”
As he turned to leave he caught the eye of Chun and was hit with the full force of the man’s gratitude. Paxton left the camp, glad he’d “proven” himself enough to have some time away from them all.
While a strong part of him wanted to take this chance to flee and never return, he knew he needed to see this thing through to the end. He would earn Rozaria’s complete trust, find out exactly where her army was located, along with its numbers and any other strategic information. He would find a way to return to his home and warn the monarch of everything he’d learned before they were blindsided by an attack. He couldn’t allow that to happen to Aerity or his family. Perhaps in this way he could prove to the king and his people that Lashed could be good and worthy.
Or perhaps, more realistically, the entire thing would blow up in his face. That was a chance he had to take. It was the least he could do to show Aerity he still cared.
Paxton stayed at the outskirts of the woods that lined the lake. Kalorian wildlife was not familiar to him, and he did not trust it. He checked behind him several times to be sure he wasn’t being followed. When he felt far enough away, about a quarter of the distance around the lake, he took the manseveral yards into the trees and laid him down on a bed of moss.
Paxton shook his shoulders, but the man slept soundly. He felt the pulse of lifeblood at his throat, which was slow and steady. Paxton patted the man’s cheek a couple of times, and then smacked him. The man’s eyes flew open, and Paxton pressed a hand to muffle his shouts. His eyes were like a trapped, panicked animal.
“Sh, you’re safe.” Still, the man flailed and yelled, muffled by Paxton’s hand. “Shut up and be still, before they find us out!” he hissed.
The man stopped moving, his eyes darting around in the dark.
“Listen carefully,” Paxton said. “Head north, following the seastar constellation, and you will come to the path back to Lochlanach. Stay off it, but near it, or you will be found again. You must go straight to King Charles and tell him Rozaria Rocato is gathering an army of Lashed, and she might be working with Prince Vito. You saw for yourself how she is taking Lashed refugees and forcing them to work for her. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
The man nodded fast. Slowly, Paxton let up his hand and the man sputtered, “They’re crazy! She’s evil! The Lashed are—”
“Be careful how you finish that sentence,” Paxton told him. He held his fingers very close to the man’s eyes. “Do you see this newest lashing here? It’s the one that saved your life.Remember that when you speak of all Lashed being evil.”
In the moonlight, the man’s eyes filled with the same hatred he’d shown at the camp. “You didn’t care about saving me. You only wanted to use me to send a message!”
