The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(38)

“Whoa, dear one, careful now.” The woman wore a light hooded covering that hid most of her face, and she talked funny.

Stephon scrambled to his feet and was set to keep running when a voice rang out from the rickety steps of the nearby house. Seas, no, the last thing Stephon wanted was to attract the attention of Farmer Reefpoole.

“Watch out, ladies, don’t let that boy touch you!”

The two women and Stephon both turned their faces up to the man on the steps, boots covered in dirt and face red from the sun. A boy from Stephon’s school was at the man’s side, scowling down at him. “His mama’s Lashed, and he’s trouble.”

The women’s heads snapped to Stephon, and he felt pierced by the icy blue eyes of the one who’d spoken. Her hood had fallen back a little to reveal shining black hair and the prettiest face Stephon had ever seen. But those eyes . . . they seemed to dissect him.

“Is that right?” the woman crooned in that strange accent. “Are you dangerous, boy?”

It took him a moment to register her words, then he shook his head. Half a second later he felt a sting as something sharp bashed into his arm. The woman gasped and looked up at the steps. The farmer’s son threw another rock, this time hitting Stephon in the chest. He grabbed his rib in pain.

“Get away from those ladies!” the boy yelled. His father smirked.

Stephon stumbled as he spun and then ran, not looking back.

After watching Stephon disappear into the fields, the woman stared up at the man, a small smile gracing her lips. “Thank you for . . . saving us.”

The man tipped his chin down. “Our pleasure. You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

The women moved closer, to the bottom of the steps. One still kept her face hidden under her cloak’s hood.

“We are traveling through from the lands of Kalor, looking to trade spices.”

“Ah.” The farmer nodded in appreciation. Trading was his livelihood. “Never been to Kalor. Heard they haven’t fared well since the wars of Eurona.”

The woman eyed the farmer’s shanty house. “It seems most lands have not fared well, sadly. Rocato left quite a lot of damage in his path.”

The man growled at the name Rocato, crossing his arms. “That he did.”

“We have many tales where I’m from.” The woman slowly made her way up the steps, pulling her hood back to reveal her full beauty. The man and his son stared, relaxing their stances as she neared, as if enchanted by her voice. “They say if Rocato had had a better plan, and had not been so impulsive, he would have succeeded in taking over the kingdom.”

“Well,” the man breathed, mesmerized by her eyes. “That’s a frightening tale.”

She continued. “And they say Rocato had a son who few knew of, that he has descendants who have been carefully planning how to succeed in all the ways he failed. For the Lashed to have power and respect once again.” She smiled in amusement. “Can you believe such tales?”

“More like nightmares!” The boy sneered.

The woman bent and patted his cheek, smiling. “Indeed.” She stood. “Thank you again for saving me from that horrible boy. I don’t know how helpless people like me could survive without capable people like you.”

Neither the man nor boy objected when the beautiful foreign woman reached out to grasp their hands in apparent thanks. Yet three short beats later, both fell to the porch in a pile, limbs limp with death. The woman stared down at her fingers, her heart accelerating in thrill as she watched a new line rise beneath her nails to join the many others with scarcely a space between them.

“We will burn this disgusting hovel.” She glanced down the steps at her companion, who hadn’t moved during any of this. “Make certain no one’s coming.”

“Yes, Rozaria,” the girl said. She pulled back her hood, revealing a jagged scar across the side of her olive-skinned face. The two women looked up and down the empty path before bending and taking hold of the wood beams of the porch with their hands.



That afternoon, young Stephon watched as flames rose to touch the sky from the other end of the vast soybean fields. An acrid breeze blew past. His mother lay a bony hand on his shoulder.

“That looks like Mr. Reefpoole’s house.”

Stephon nodded, but he didn’t understand. He’d been there twenty minutes before, and there’d been no sign of fire.

“He’s not a nice man, but I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone,” his mother murmured. Again, Stephon only nodded.

“Good day, Lashed One.”

Stephon jumped and his mother let out a startled noise at the sound of the foreign woman’s voice. She must have come through the forest, rather than the fields, staying hidden. The other traveling woman remained a short distance away, her face shrouded behind a draping hood.

Sudden trepidation filled Stephon. His mother shoved him behind her, voice shaking. “We don’t want any trouble. I’m clean. Look.” She held up a trembling hand to show her unmarked nails.

“What a pity.” The foreign woman moved closer, running her ice blue eyes over Stephon’s mother. Even though the woman seemed nice enough, something about her felt strange to Stephon. He picked up a stick and held it up, ready to use it.

The woman cocked her head at him and gave a low laugh.