Aerity dropped her eyes to his large hands, saying nothing.
“Did you speak to Tiern about what happened that night?” he asked gently. Aerity said nothing. “Do you know how I came to slay the beast when the one you loved possessed the weapon?”
Aerity looked up, her throat closing. “I don’t want to speak of it.”
He continued, carefully, as if he hadn’t heard. “The beast nearly killed Tiern—actually, I think he had taken his final breath. Paxton Seabolt chose to save his life. He gave me the knife. He is Lashed, Princess.”
Aerity stared into his eyes, a fiery passion rising up in her at the judgment in his voice. “I know who he is.” She pulled her hands away.
“You knew he was Lashed?” His voice sounded accusatory.
She felt her lips purse in anger. “I knew, aye.”
He wore a bewildered expression. “And you believed your people would tolerate it?”
“I believe my people need to gain a better understanding of the Lashed. Many changes need to be made in this kingdom.” She lifted her chin.
“A revolutionary, are you? All right then, Princess, perhaps you are not afraid of his magic. But does it not bother you that he gave you away so easily?”
Aerity felt as if she’d been kicked by the beast all over again. Gave you away . . . “No. He didn’t give me away, he saved his brother.” If Aerity had had to choose between Vixie’s life and marrying the man of her choice, she would choose her sister. She could not fault Paxton for his decision, no matter how it saddened her.
“Do you have brothers, Lord Alvi?”
“I do.”
“Would you not have saved any one of them in that situation?”
His eyebrows smoothed in confidence. “I was bound by my duty to kill the beast. Any one of my brothers would have understood that and wanted me to forsake his life to claim the slay. For the honor of our family.”
Aerity had heard tell of the honor-bound attitudes of the coldlands people. She’d always thought it a romantic ideal, to be so sacrificial for one’s family and land, that is, until now.
“I respect our differences, Lord Alvi, and I hope you can, as well. Here in Lochlanach we choose to honor individual lives over family glory.”
Lord Alvi gave a small nod. “So I’ve gathered.”
Aerity swallowed and stepped back.
“Very well,” Lord Alvi said quietly. “I shall leave you until the betrothal ceremony.” He watched her curiously a moment longer.
Aerity gave a curtsy as he left. She stood there, alone, and suddenly cold as stone at the thought of entering the High Hall. It would be filled with smiling faces—hunters and royals that had traveled down from the coldlands, all of her family and Lochlanach’s elite. Aerity pressed a hand over her mouth, afraid she might be sick. With her other hand she gathered the front of her dress and ran from the room toward the only person in the castle she could stomach seeing at that moment—the only person she felt would understand what she’d lost.
She ran, her slippered feet sliding on the smooth stone. She took the spiraled steps up two at a time, panting when she reached the top. The guard stepped aside. When she knocked on the wooden door, her knuckles were numb from holding her skirts so tightly.
Mrs. Rathbrook opened the door, her eyes wide. “Princess Aerity! What in Eurona is the matter? Shouldn’t you be at the ceremony now?”
“I—I don’t . . .” Aerity lowered her voice to a whisper. “Paxton Seabolt . . .” They both glanced at the guard, who stared straight ahead at the staircase.
Mrs. Rathbrook grasped her by the elbow and gently pulled her in, closing the door tightly behind her. “Come and sit.”
“I’m sorry,” Aerity said. Her heart was beating too hard, and her breaths were coming too fast. She sat and bent forward, wrapping her arms around her middle. “It’s just that . . . he’s Lashed, and he’s run away, and I don’t know what to do. I—”
“Try for deep breaths, dear,” Mrs. Rathbrook said. “You’re in a panic.”
Aerity tried, feeling her heart slow.
“Where would he go?” Aerity mused, tears burning her eyelids. “Why does it have to be like this? He shouldn’t have to hide! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“Sh, love.” The woman rubbed her back.
Aerity looked up into Mrs. Rathbrook’s pained eyes. She looked as upset as Aerity felt.
“What can be done?” the princess asked. She’d never felt so small. So powerless. The beast was nothing compared to the notions of hatred, fear, and prejudice against Lashed throughout the lands. “If we could only show people, and explain that Lashed are not dangerous . . .” Mrs. Rathbrook looked upon her pityingly.
And then Aerity remembered Rozaria Rocato, the essence of danger, and she shut her eyes.
A strange noise came from the quiet halls below. Shouting. Faint at first, then growing louder. Aerity stood. She and Mrs. Rathbrook grabbed each other’s arms, listening. Next came terrified screams and stomping feet.
“Great seas,” Mrs. Rathbrook whispered. “We must hide you, Princess.”