The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(49)
“What?” Her eyes snapped up.
“I shouldn’t have spied, but I had a feeling his motives were not honorable when he asked you to walk with him. I saw him kiss you in the trees. You were right to run from him.”
Wyneth swallowed, her stomach churning with shame. “I have to go.”
She rushed past him, covering her mouth, trying to keep it all inside long enough to burst through her chamber doors and shut them tight behind her.
Wyneth paced a minute, and then sat in a cushioned chair, breathing hard. She opened her sketchbook and ran a slender fingertip across the animated bird on the crocodile’s shoulder. A dry sob choked her as she slammed the book shut and closed her eyes. Tears burned inside her eyelids, and an irrational bout of resentment bubbled up from deep inside her.
“Why, Breckon?” she whispered. “Why did you have to be so bloody brave?”
The sketchbook slid to the floor with a clatter as Wyneth bent, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Her shame was like a living, growing thing inside her.
If only Breckon had dived into the water with her. They might’ve escaped together. What had he been trying to prove by fighting that monster? Why did he have to go and get himself killed? If he were here, none of this would be happening with Lord Alvi, she knew that for a fact. If Breckon were here, her heart would have never wandered to one of Aerity’s suitors.
“Breckon, you stupid, stupid man. Why?” Wyneth railed in absolute anger, an emotion she hadn’t allowed herself to release until that moment. She let herself be overcome with rage at the unfairness of it all. She screamed, and when her maid opened the door, peeking in with worry, Wyneth threw a pillow at the door and shouted, “Leave me alone!” She then began to throw everything in sight, breaking a canvas against the wall. Looking down at the drab, gray gown, she grasped the neckline and yanked until it tore at the seams. She screamed at the top of her lungs, kicking her bedpost until her feet throbbed, punching her mattress until her hands stung.
“How much longer, Breck?” Wyneth sobbed, her face against the bed. “How much longer will it hurt like this?” She clenched the sheets.
Wyneth wept until her strength was gone, and then she feebly crawled into the abused bed and slept like the dead.
Chapter
23
Caitrin’s mouth was set in a straight line of worry as she brought Aerity’s freshly ironed dresses the next morning. Aerity sat up in bed, groggy, having tossed and turned restlessly all night. It had been strange knowing the men were in the castle—Paxton just a short walk from her chambers.
“What’s wrong?” Aerity asked. She clutched her stomach. “Did the beast attack?”
“No, your majesty.” Caitrin shook her head. “It’s the poor Zandalee women. When a maid went to their chambers this morning, she found them all ill with fevers.”
Aerity leaped from the bed, grabbed her beaded shawl, and threw it around her shoulders. “I’ve got to tell Mrs. Rathbrook!”
“She’s already been called,” Caitrin assured her.
“Good.” She relaxed a fraction. “I want to check on them.”
“Come, let me help you dress first, my lady,” Caitrin called, but Aerity left her, hurrying to the guest quarters on her bare feet.
She halted at the corner when she saw her mother standing there, conversing with a guard at the door. They both looked at her, from her nightgown down to her feet, and her mother’s mouth pinched with displeasure. Aerity took a deep breath and moved forward, suddenly very aware of her tangled hair and nightclothes.
“Is anyone else sick?” Aerity asked, coming to a stop before them.
“No, thank the seas,” the queen said. “The Lochlan hunters took the Zandalee through a town yesterday where they came in contact with commoners. We believe that is how they contracted the fever.”
Aerity ducked her head into the darkened room. Mrs. Rathbrook was working over Zandora, who lay still on the four-poster bed. She wiped her forehead gingerly, and applied ointment to her lips. The other two huntresses were curled up on cots, shivering. Aerity moved forward.
“You can’t go in there, Princess,” warned the guard.
Aerity felt a prickle of frustration. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the doorframe. Pain pulsed in her chest. An awful, heavy feeling had taken up residence there over the past several weeks from stress. She looked into the room again and Mrs. Rathbrook saw her. The woman bustled over.
“Don’t worry yourself, Princess. They’re not so far gone that they can’t be healed. Illnesses such as this are different from injuries, though. It takes more time to filter magic through the blood. They won’t be happy with me, but I’ve given them sleeping draughts. If they try to rise without enough rest, the disease can return even stronger. I suggest they do not hunt tonight.”
Aerity nodded, and the woman went back into the darkened room.
The queen gently pulled Aerity’s hair over her shoulder. “She’s right, dear girl. You shouldn’t worry yourself. Now go back to your room and make yourself presentable.”
Aerity did as she was told. Her feet were cold and numb by the time she reached her bedchamber again. Caitrin led her to the plush stool, setting to work on her hair. The princess stared out the window. The rain had finally stopped. Now a dense fog hung over the land and sea.