The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(13)

“Seas forgive me,” he whispered. Princess Aerity left her father to think, having no idea how her own words would come to affect her.











Chapter


5


The castle windows remained tightly locked, emptying the rooms and halls of their usual scented breeze, stifling the royal living spaces. That evening when Vixie and Donubhan feigned nightmares, Aerity let them cram into her bed. It left Aerity tired in the morning after being kicked and nudged and snored at all night, but she was glad to be able to comfort them. And their nearness was a comfort to her as well.

Something had to be done. The entire kingdom of Lochlanach was exhausted. Frazzled. On the verge of self-destruction. If the beast wasn’t caught and killed soon, fear would overtake the lands.

Fear was a dangerous, unpredictable weapon.

Princess Aerity wasn’t surprised when her father called a royal family meeting. She wondered what extreme measures he had decided upon, and hoped the people of the kingdom would come to understand and support him. One thing Aerity had learned from being the daughter of a king is that sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

They filed into the High Hall—even cousin Wyneth, who left her bed for the first time since Breckon’s death. Aerity was proud of her for coming. She forced herself not to pounce on her cousin with affection, instead holding Wyneth’s hand tightly as the older women doted on her, smoothing her curls and flooding her with greetings.

In order to show her hope for the kingdom, Aerity wore a pale shade of periwinkle blue, her first colorful garment in days, while Wyneth still donned gray.

The king and queen sat at the head of the long table in their tall oak chairs lined with crushed blue velvet. As a child, Aerity could remember running her fingers along the carved grooves of the chairs where generations of kings and queens had sat before them.

King Charles’s younger sisters flanked the king and queen on either side with their husbands—the Wavecrests on one side, the Baycreeks on the other. The king was the eldest child and only son. He’d always been close to his sisters and brothers-in-law, and welcomed their counsel.

Princess Aerity sat beside Wyneth, who still held her hand. Wyneth preserved her tough exterior, but Aerity felt the truth in the slight tremble of her cousin’s fingers.

On Aerity’s other side was a fidgety Vixie. Across from them were two of Wyneth’s three younger brothers, fourteen-year-old Bowen, and Brixton at twelve. Wyneth’s youngest brother, Wyatt, ran about the expansive space of the hall with Donubhan and their cousin Leo, while Caileen and Merity sat with sketchbooks and fine chalks.

The clearing of the king’s throat was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. His face had taken on an ashen pallor, the skin drooping under his hazel eyes. It was alarming for Princess Aerity to see her father in such a state. He set his elbows heavily on the table before him.

“Never in my reign have I experienced such desperation.”

Aerity’s heart sank like an anchor to hear the truth in those words.

“I’ve spoken countless hours with my advisers and officers,” he continued. “I’ve notified the other kingdoms of our predicament, and thankfully no other lands of Eurona suffer such a beast as ours. We’ve no idea where it came from, or if there is more than one, but it must be stopped. If it continues, or, seas forbid, multiplies . . .” A shiver seemed to ricochet through him. “My men are not hunters. They are soldiers and sailors and watermen. I cannot allow my people to continue being slaughtered and terrified. If I don’t act, the people will act on my behalf. They’ve already begun.”

Revolt? Aerity’s innards shook at the idea of an uprising. Chaos.

Lord James sat forward, stiffening. “What do you mean, they’ve already begun?”

The king’s lips pursed. “In the north village, where one of the murdered fishermen lived, the townspeople went door to door as a mob, looking for Lashed. They found a man with fresh markings . . .”

“Seas alive, no,” Lady Faith whispered. Aerity’s stomach turned.

“The Lashed man was ill, could hardly walk. He told them he’d healed a baby bird that fell from a tree, but they were beyond sympathy, beyond reason. They stoned him to death.”

The queen dragged in a sobbing breath and covered her mouth. Aerity tasted bile as her own emotions rose.

“He should not have used his magic, aye, but I cannot have people taking the law into their own hands,” the king said with a pained inflection. “I cannot allow senseless killings of innocents in my land.”

“Have you any ideas what we can do?” Lord Wavecrest asked.

“One.” Aerity’s father spoke the word in a near whisper. Then he looked straight at her, his eldest daughter.

Goose bumps rippled in a cold wave across the princess’s skin.

Aerity’s mother grabbed the king’s forearm in a hard grip and turned toward him, besieging him with a whisper. “Charles, perhaps we should tell her without an audience.”

Her father eyed her mother. His gaze held something Aerity had never seen before. Something utterly unsettling. Something hardened.

“You speak of me?” Aerity whispered.

“Aye,” her father whispered in return.

“Shall we leave?” Her uncle Preston began to stand.