“We don’t need your help! Men of the coldlands can read a map and hunt better than any in Eurona. You offend every man here by assuming otherwise.” He waved a hand over the crowd as if Paxton had purposely disrespected the lot of them. “If you waterlands men are so valuable, then why haven’t you killed the beast before now, eh? You had to call upon us to help, so leave off and let us work!”
Anger boiled within Paxton, his fists tingling for rough contact.
In Paxton’s stewing silence, Tiern spoke up. “There was a curfew instated.”
“There was a curfew. . . .” Volgan mocked him in a high voice, and the Ascomannian men laughed. Bright red spots bloomed on Tiern’s cheeks.
The soldier Harrison spoke up. “Some of us here have lost loved ones to this beast already. This is not about glory for us but the safety of our lands and people.”
“So you say,” Volgan muttered, scowling.
Harrison glowered back at him. “My own cousin battled the beast and lost his life. I am here to avenge him.”
“And bed the princess, no doubt.” Volgan’s mirth was cut short when Harrison swiftly moved forward with his blade and sliced off the tip of the coldlander’s beard. Volgan watched it flutter to the ground in shock.
Pointing the blade at the man’s face, Harrison muttered. “Do not disrespect the princess.”
Volgan’s face was murderous. His fellow hunters moved in closer.
“Enough.” Paxton leveled Volgan with a hard glare. As much as he enjoyed seeing the Ascomannian bested by the Lochlan lieutenant, they needed to move forward with the hunting plans. “Have it your way, Volgan.” The foreign hunters would learn soon enough what they’d be battling.
He shouldered his way out of the crowd with Tiern at his heels. When they were out of earshot, Paxton muttered, “There’s no reasoning with that load of idiots. And the rest are sure to follow him because he’s the loudest.”
Behind him, Paxton heard arguments breaking out overwhich areas the groups would take.
“Perhaps he’ll be eaten tonight,” Tiern said.
Paxton grinned mirthlessly at his brother’s dark humor. “Come on. Let’s find a tent and rest before dinner.”
In truth, Paxton didn’t care for resting or eating. What he really wanted to do was hunt.
Chapter
11
As Princess Aerity and Lady Wyneth took the cobbled path from the castle to the west commons gates, Aerity squeezed her cousin’s hand to quiet the shaking inside of her. Thankfully Wyneth held tight in return, not seeming to mind the princess’s sweating palm.
Aerity still felt a bit guilty after Vixie had begged and pleaded to come see the hunters, swearing she’d keep quiet despite her feelings over the situation. Aerity adamantly refused. She was too nervous to handle Vixie’s excitable, unpredictable personality at that moment. Ultimately their mother had to intervene, pulling the incensed Vixie away.
Aerity had taken off her jeweled circlet. It made her feel like a spectacle when she wore it outside of royal galas. Thegirls pushed their windblown hair back over their shoulders as a breeze came up from the sea, swirling the bottoms of their skirts. The late afternoon was gorgeous—warm and clear—as if Mother Nature were trying to make up for the abominable beast she’d created.
You’ll have to do better than that, Aerity thought.
Behind her, she heard the clank of swords and armor as royal guards flanked them. Perhaps Aerity was naive, but she doubted the guards were necessary. She couldn’t imagine any of the hunters trying to hurt her. And besides, the balcony overlooking the commons area was lined with armed guards.
Her stomach flipped end over end as they gauged the sight of the long tables filled with men taking their meal. They grouped together based on nationality. Aerity took in their differences—the furs and beards of the Ascomannians, the draping head coverings of the dark-skinned Zorfinans, the shaved heads and narrow eyes of the Torestans, and what appeared to be lion manes around the sleeves of the tanned Kalorians.
For a group who was about to face a fabled, vicious beast, they were lively and loud. Aerity pulled Wyneth to a stop, apprehension and nervousness halting her feet and threatening to make her turn away. When the first man spotted her, he nudged the hunter at his side, and eyes began to turn Aerity’s way. She found herself standing taller under hundreds of hushed gazes.
“Right, then.” She cleared her throat. “On we go.”
Wyneth gave her hand a last squeeze of reassurance and then released her, but she never left her side as they approached the first table.
Aerity wondered for a moment if she should keep her hands to herself. It would be the smart, safe, proper thing to do. But as she came eye to eye with the first young man at the end of the table she found herself reaching out her hand.
“Thank you for coming, brave sir.”
His eyes widened and he abruptly dropped the turkey leg, wiping his hand on his brown breeches. The man’s skin was shades darker than Aerity’s, his round eyes brown and his black curls slicked back. His hand shook as he reached out to embrace hers.
