Paxton took the man’s torn tunic in his hands and pulled him up a few inches, only to slam him back into the ground. He pulled his face close. “A message that will save you, your family, and the people of Lochlanach.Mypeople. Pull your cursed head out of your arse, man!”
Paxton shoved off and stood, glaring down at him. “Seas be with you. You’re going to need it.”
“You’re leaving me out here?”
Irritation scratched at Paxton. He squinted at the floor of the forest before he found two edible things, plucked them, and squatted at the man’s side. “Look. These types of mushrooms, and these berries from that type of bush are edible. And I assume you can fish?” He pulled a rusted hook and string from his tunic pocket and handed it to the man. “If you come into sight of our camp, Iwillkill you this time. Keep to the forest until you are past us, and then align yourself with the path.”
Paxton stood.
“It could take me weeks to get back!” the man cried.
Paxton spared the man one final look of warning, and then walked away.
Chapter
12
Paxton had no faith that the man would do as he’d been instructed. He wished he could get his hands on his bow for protection in case the not-so-dead prisoner was caught again. Being defenseless behind enemy lines did not suit him. What suited him even less was worrying exactly what was in store for him in Rozaria’s tent. She was beautiful, no doubt, but her wicked intentions and fanatical madness erased every ounce of that beauty for Paxton. He wasn’t certain how far he could stretch his charade, especially when it came to the attentions of Rozaria, even though he ached every day for the touch of a woman.
One in particular.
He thought of her soft lips and long silken hair as hetrudged back to the camp. For a moment he even imagined he could smell the coconut and berry-scented oils that graced her lightly freckled skin. He recalled the fierce look of defiance and understanding in her eyes when she’d seen his lash marks, knowing it was his reason for keeping her at bay. He recalled how her fierceness changed to soft passion as she went up on her toes to kiss him.
Seas, he would have kissed her longer if he’d known it would be his one and only chance. He would have memorized the curve of her waist and hips, the arc of her back as she leaned into him.
Smells of smoke rising from the campfire dislodged him from the memory and plunged him back into the harsh reality that faced him. All eyes were on Pax as he approached, some with wonder and awe, some with respect. Their misled opinions gave him no satisfaction, though he was glad not to be under a cloud of suspicion any longer.
Paxton made his way to Rozaria’s tent, where Martone stood outside with his arms crossed. The two were the same height, but Martone’s shoulders were broader, his neck thicker. His hair was shaved on the sides, and the strip of black down the middle was knotted at the back of his skull. The man’s eyes narrowed into a smug scowl.
Paxton widened his stance and crossed his own arms. He welcomed a scuffle with the brute; perhaps it would postpone this cursed meeting.
Rozaria called out a question from inside—he recognizedthe word “who” in Kalorian. Then the flap opened and her dark eyes peered out, glinting in the firelight. She smiled at Pax and gave Martone an order. The man reluctantly took one step aside.
Paxton passed him and hunched through the doorway. A candle burned on a small wooden table in the middle. On both sides were thick pallets with ornate coverings of bright colors and designs. On one sat Rozaria’s guest, the mysterious young woman. Before she could pull her hood up all the way, Paxton caught sight of a jagged scar down her otherwise pretty face. The girl said something softly to Rozaria and then left them.
“Please . . .” Rozaria motioned to where the girl had been sitting. “Join me.”
Paxton sat sideways, one leg out straight and the other bent. Rozaria sat on the other side, a satisfied look of contentment on her face as she poured two cups of red wine and placed one in front of him. She raised hers and drank. Paxton took his with a fleeting thought of poison, but drank anyway. It was sweet at first, then tart. He waited to become dizzy or ill, then felt ridiculous when nothing happened. All the while Rozaria watched him, her long fingers running over the rim of her wooden cup.
“Tell me about King Charles Lochson.” Her voice carried a husky warmth that might have been alluring had she been anyone else.
Perhaps this meeting was strictly for her to obtain information. If so, he could handle that. Paxton weighed how muchto say. “He’s . . . disconnected from his kingdom. For too long he’s had nothing to focus on except the joys and entertainment of his own family and the other royals. Worries of the towns and Lashed are dealt with by local authorities—I doubt most issues are even brought to his attention, as they’re considered unimportant.” He believed what he was saying, but still suffered a twinge of regrettable disloyalty to his kingdom. He took a heady gulp of wine, and Rozaria was quick to refill his cup.
She then sipped her own wine, tapping her cup thoughtfully. “As I suspected. Now tell me about you, hunter.”
Paxton cleared his throat and took another drink as well. “I’m from a village on the main bay, north of the royal lands. My father worked in sea fare as a fisherman and oysterman. My mother helped with sales. My brother and I hunted. Fairly average family on the surface.” He knew he was being clinical and vague. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was trying not to give much information about his family or their whereabouts. When Rozaria gave a sly grin, he knew he wasn’t fooling her.
“I still frighten you,” she said.
Paxton hesitated, then opted for honesty. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a woman with your level of power. Few people have had the ability to intimidate me, but you, Rozaria . . . you do.”
Her low laughter filled the tent, and her smile was bright in the flickering light.
“Have you left behind a sad maiden in your village?”
“Nay.” His heart gave a pound. “I swore off love or marriage.”
“Smart man, considering the suffering thrust upon families in your land who cannot use their magic for its intended purposes.”
