The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(17)
Tiern’s heart sank.
An older fawn, still sporting its fading spots, came bounding out beside its mother.
“Bucking seas,” Tiern cursed. The brothers had a rule about not killing does while they were raising babes. Once the fawns were older, losing their spots, their mothers were fair game.
Tiern lowered his bow, disappointment washing through him. Seconds later Paxton’s fingers gripped him again. He followed his brother’s gaze, and was hit with elation at the sight before them.
A giant buck with an eight-point rack stood between the trees, gazing toward the doe. A deer of that size could feed half their village this week.
“Take it,” Paxton said, so low Tiern almost couldn’t hear.
Technically the buck was on Paxton’s side, but he must have felt bad about the doe, so he was giving his little brother the go. Tiern turned himself, achingly slow, and nocked his arrow to the bow once again, pulling it rigid.
Come on, big lad, he thought. Give me a good shot.
He didn’t have to wait long. The unsuspecting buck, focused solely on the doe, stepped out.
Tiern didn’t hesitate. He let his arrow fly and it found its mark beneath the ribs. He released a huge breath of relief as the beautiful animal faltered and fell. The doe and fawn dashed away.
Paxton leaped to his feet and ran to their prey. Tiern always let him take care of this part. His brother unsheathed a dagger from his waist and squatted at the animal’s side.
“There now,” Paxton soothed. He reached out slowly, with care, and pressed a hand to the buck’s head. The animal was still alive, breathing hard. “Go, be at peace. Your life will not be wasted.”
Those words, spoken at every kill, never ceased to bring a chill of awe to Tiern. He watched as his brother raised the dagger and ended the creature’s suffering. If only the lasses in town could see Paxton here in his element—see how capable their handsome brute was of gentleness, even as he killed. They’d likely be elbowing one another out of the way and racing to see who could lift their skirts for him the quickest.
Aside from their father, Tiern was the only person who knew this side of Paxton. He felt honored, as if witnessing something private and intimate.
When Paxton was ready, they got to work.
It was stew for dinner that night. Maryn Seabolt cooked a small portion of the fresh venison in a pot with potatoes, carrots, and the last of the thick-skinned tomatoes from their summer garden. She hummed a folk song as she bustled about. When everything was ready, she made heaping bowls for her two boys and brought their suppers to them in front of the fire. They ate like kings the night of a big kill.
If only it happened more often.
“Thank you, Mum,” Tiern said.
“No, thank you, laddie.” She kissed his forehead.
“Thanks,” Paxton said. Their mother rumpled his mess of hair before turning away, humming again.
The front door swung open with a rickety creak and their father lumbered in, his cane clanking against hard, dirt floors. His body looked as pained and burdensome as always, but his eyes shone. He sniffed the air.
“I heard you got a big one, aye?”
“Aye, Father,” Paxton said, his voice deep with pride. “Tiern took it.”
The corner of Tiern’s mouth quirked up and his cheeks shaded.
Their father rumbled a laugh and gave his youngest boy a punch on his lean shoulder before falling into his chair with an oof. Their mother was at his side the next moment with a steaming bowl.
“Grab a bowl and join us, Maryn,” he told her. “There’s news. Big news.”
Her hand flew to her heart. “Not another killing?”
“Nae, nae. But it does have to do with the great beast. Our king has issued a proclamation.”
Her eyebrows rose, and the boys traded looks of interest.
“We didn’t hear about any proclamation when we were in the market,” Tiern said.
“It was just issued. Hurry yourself,” Mr. Seabolt said, giving his wife a smack on the bottom.
She rushed off with an uncharacteristic giggle and Paxton shook his head at his grinning brother, turning his attention back to his stew.
“So the king finally believes there’s a beast and plans to do something about it?” Paxton asked. “Now that his own men have been killed and not just peasants?”
“It would seem so,” his father said with a frown.
Paxton grumbled.
Tiern and his father ignored Paxton’s gibe and tone. They were accustomed to his negativity toward the king, and toward everything in general. When the four of them were gathered around the fire, Mr. Seabolt set down his empty bowl and placed his large palms on his knees. All attention turned to him.
“The king’s proclamation states that the best hunters from all of Eurona are invited to Lochlanach for a massive hunt. Whoever kills the great beast will get the most valuable reward the king can offer . . .” He paused and the room was thick with expectancy. “The hand of Princess Aerity.”
Mrs. Seabolt gasped, nearly toppling her bowl.
“No shite?” Tiern breathed. His mother must have been in shock because she didn’t even swat him for his language.
“Aye,” their father said.
Tiern and Paxton stared at each other, their eyes distant as their minds swirled with possibility.