Curses. He had no time for this. Paxton stood and shoved the dagger back into its sheath at his chest, then tugged his tunic back down. She seemed taken aback and stood taller as well.
“You’re not the first to accuse me of notcaring,” he said. “I’ve never been good at showing feelings and all of that nonsense when it comes to women. But what Rozaria and I have is mutual. She understands me. I appreciate your concern for her, but it’s wrongly placed.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Get in line,” Paxton told her in a raised voice. She scowled. “I need to get back to patrolling. I know this castle better than your men, so I want to check everything out myself. You’rewelcome to join me and watch my every move if you feel you must.”
He turned and walked out of the room, keenly aware of just how far she was from him while his back was to her, and what distance he needed to keep in case she decided to leap and grab at him with her deadly little hands.
When he passed High Hall he was relieved to see her go inside and stay there. Aye, Paxton would not be able to sleep anytime soon. She didn’t trust him, and he sure as the depths didn’t trust her either.
Chapter
41
They were getting drunk, Aerity realized. She stared from her bedroom window, watching the revelry below as the sun rose, turning the horizon from dark blue to gray. Kalorian soldiers were everywhere. These weren’t the respectful tribesmen who had come to fight in the hunt. Those men valued life. These men were something altogether different. They were wild, without rules or boundaries. They threw one another to the ground, threw empty bottles, shot arrows straight up into the air.
And worst of all were the caged beasts in the middle of the west commons. They taunted them with spears and torches. Aerity couldn’t make out the creatures in detail, but she could hear their maddened howls and see their paws swiping at theperpetrators. She rushed away from the window and curled up at the headboard of her bed with the heels of her hands pressed firmly into her eyes. She rocked back and forth.
This could not be happening.
She thought of all the ways she could escape. The windows were definitely out. She’d lower herself right into the west commons with the madmen. She thought about opening the door and smashing her vase over the guard’s head. But what if there were more than one? And surely the halls were filled with them.
Aerity’s eyes scanned her room, looking for anything that might be used as a weapon. But what her gaze landed on was her bookshelf. She stared at it. At nine years of age she’d begged her parents to remove the dusty old books and allow her to fill the shelves with more interesting stories. They’d given her the bottom three shelves for her own tales but told her the top shelf of books was to remain—that she would appreciate them someday and not to bother with them yet.
Hope sprang to life as she ran to the bookshelf. She pulled at the books on the top shelf, flinging them to the floor one by one to reveal plain boards behind them . . . until she got three-quarters of the way through, and those books stuck. Her heart absolutely pounded now. Three of the books were fused together, just as the ones had been on the bookshelf in her father’s office. She grasped the top of them and pulled down with all her might until she heard a click. And then she pushed the bookshelf.
Oh, seas! It was moving!She glanced at her chamber door. All this time there’d been a hidden place in her room and she hadn’t known it! How many more were there throughout the castle? She held back an exhilarated laugh.
Unlike the hidden room in the office, this one smelled musty, and a small cloud of dust plumed out as the bookshelf swung outward. She glanced toward her door again and listened to be sure no one was coming. When she heard nothing, she stepped in, careful to keep the bookshelf from shutting.
What she found in the dim light was not a room at all. It was a passageway. Aerity examined the back of the bookcase and found a lever just where the set of books was. Unlike the vault in the office, this door could be opened from within. She looked down the narrow passage and saw an old torch on the wall. All she needed was to find something to light the torch and then she could leave. The passageway was pitch-dark otherwise.
Aerity went back into her room and tugged the bookshelf doorway closed before rushing to the hearth. She knew Caitrin kept a box with kindling, tinder, and flint around there somewhere. They weren’t on the mantel, only boring old urns and candelabras. She rushed to the side table and was about to open the drawer when voices sounded from the hall. Aerity sucked in a breath and spun around. She looked to the bookcase to be sure nothing was amiss and saw the books she’d flung to the floor.
Seas alive!She fell to her knees and snatched them intoher arms before leaping to her feet again and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf and rushing away from the bookcase, brushing dust from her skirts.
Go away, go away, go away, she silently begged to whoever was out there. But they didn’t. Footsteps got closer. Low, male voices. The door handle was moving. When it opened she felt her mouth open in a gasp.
Paxton. His expression was hard and guarded. She had to keep from running to him because he wasn’t alone. He had a large Kalorian man with him who Aerity recognized at once as the brute Martone. Her eyes went large, remembering their time together in that tower room, and she looked down. He was the first to speak, using his native tongue.
“I am told you speak Kalorian.” His voice was gruff.
Aerity nodded, afraid to respond, worried he might recognize her voice.
“Prince Vito will rest today, and marry you tonight.”
Aerity brought a hand to her throat, tasting bitterness.
“Very good,” she whispered.
“He says for you to write a declaration to send to the people telling them of your union. He will approve it before it is sent out.”
Aerity nodded, swallowing hard. Martone walked to her tall chest of drawers and opened the top drawer, lifting her undergarments in a meaty fist and peering beneath them.
“What are you doing?” she asked in Kalorian.
“Removing any weapons.” The brute pointed to her desk. “Write.”
