The Great Hunt (Eurona Duology, #1)(87)

He blearily turned his head to the scene beside him on the shore, blinking as it sank in. Lief stood over top of the beast, breathing hard. The hilt of the dagger stuck out of the beast’s hairy throat, where it had been deeply lodged. It was unmoving. Their foe was dead, killed by the Ascomannian lord.

Lief turned his head and froze when he saw Paxton watching. He shook his head. “You could have been a prince.” Aye. He could have been a prince with a dead brother.

Lief’s eyes went to Tiern, who pushed up onto his elbows, and the lord’s mouth fell open. He gawked back and forth between Paxton and Tiern, then his mouth clamped shut, and he chuckled without humor, shaking his head.

“Pax . . . ?” Tiern took in the situation, glancing down at the blood surrounding him, and at Lord Alvi standing over the beast. “What have you done? You . . . you shouldn’t have . . .”

“Quiet.” Pax got to his feet and brushed the sand from his body as best as he could. His heart raced. His stomach rolled. He looked over at Princess Aerity’s passed-out form on the shore. He’d made his choice. What’s done was done and now he had to live with it.











Chapter


39


“Princess. Princess Aerity . . . can you hear me?”

The deep masculine voice seemed to come to her from afar, like a soft dream of foreign lands she’d read about in books. She tried to move, and a shooting pain sang out from her ribs, urging a moan to rise from her throat. She’d only felt this sort of pain when the horse had broken her arm all those years ago.

“Sh, Princess,” said the deep voice again. But it wasn’t the voice she sought. “The beast is dead. Boats are coming. Be still for now.”

Dead? Boats? Aerity blinked her eyes, feeling the grit of sand and salt covering her body. She tried to sit up, but gasped against the pain and grabbed the spot under her breast. Definitely broken ribs.

Slowly, the horrific events came back to her—the beast’s dull, trusting eyes; the feel of tough flesh as she’d shoved the knife into its neck. Her stomach turned, remembering. And then she’d watched it react in pain, recalled its great hind leg rising, and felt the crack of her ribs, the wind at her back, the water filling her ears.

She blinked again at the dark gray sky, stars just beginning to sparkle to life. And then a shudder violently overtook Aerity’s body. She nearly retched as realization dawned. She’d left her little sister, weakened, in the building with that madwoman. Had help arrived? Was she safe? And, oh, seas . . . the beast . . . who had killed it?

Aerity turned her head and saw Tiern sitting at the edge of the shore, his knees pulled up. But it had been Lord Alvi’s voice she heard upon awakening. . . . The beast is dead . . . and here sat Tiern, alone and upset. Where was Paxton? Ignoring the pain, Aerity’s head whipped to the side. There was the beast, truly dead by the water, with Lief working over it. Paxton was nowhere. Aerity felt bewildered as bits of reality shook her. She was afraid to speak, to learn what had happened.

Tiern stared down at the water that splashed over his bare feet. She’d never seen him look forlorn like this, as if lost in dark thoughts.

Fear seized her. Her eyes adjusted as she peered around. A boat was being rowed rapidly around the bend toward them. Farther behind it, great flames rose from the distant Isle of Loch, thick smoke licking the sky.

“Vixie . . .” Carefully, Aerity rolled and pushed up on her elbow, one hand in the sand to anchor herself. Down the shore, Lord Alvi was still leaning over the beast’s stiff form, doing something that she couldn’t figure out. Her eyes darted around, panic pumping through her.

“Vixie,” she whispered. It hurt to talk. “They need to get Vixie.” But nobody could hear her.

As the boat neared, and an anchor was thrown out, Aerity heard a guard shout, “Has the great beast been slain? Is it finally done?”

Lord Alvi, stood, in all his glory, holding the beast’s massive head in his hand. His face was fearsome. Aerity’s breath caught as he shouted, “The beast will no longer ravish the lands of Lochlanach! I have killed it this very night!”

Cursed seas . . .

The boat full of men roared a unified cheer, in direct opposition to the feelings raging inside Aerity. Tiern’s head hung. Men jumped out, splashing, running ashore to congratulate Lord Alvi and thank him.

“Tiern!” the princess shouted, crying out in pain, but he couldn’t hear her over the men. Surely they wouldn’t be celebrating if something had happened to the younger princess. Aerity pushed to her knees and yelled again, “Where! Is! Vixie?” One soldier turned, blanching at the sight of her, then jogged over.

“Are you okay, Princess Aerity? I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you—”

“Never mind me. Where is my sister?”

He nodded. “Princess Vixie was rushed by boat to the castle docks.”

“Thank you,” Aerity breathed. Having seen that she was now awake, Tiern stood and came over, lowering himself to her side.

“It’s all right,” he told the soldier. “I’ve got her.”

“Another boat is coming,” the man told Aerity. “We’ll have you back to the castle and fixed up in no time.” She nodded, and the man left them.

Aerity pressed a hand against her ribs. “Tiern?”