“Long trip. I wish you blessings on your hunt.”
His eyes crinkled in awe at hearing his native tongue come from a foreign princess’s mouth. Languages were her favorite subject of study. Ascomanii, Lochlanach, and most of Toresta spoke Euronan with individual dialects, but Zorfina and Kalor had their own languages. She released his hand and moved to the next man, making her way down the table.
And so it went. For an hour she went through the rows, meeting each man, fumbling through introductions when particularly strong accents arose, or a hunter spoke too quickly in excitement. She’d never been more thankful for her language tutoring.
Some of the men, like the first, were filled with quiet wonder, while other prideful men boasted of their accomplishments. Most were young, ranging from late teens to late twenties, though a few seemed older. Widowers, perhaps. Some were handsome, and some were not, but she found herself grateful for each one of them and their willingness to be there. She ignored the quake of unease in her gut each time she thought of marriage and all it would entail.
The sun was preparing to set as she neared the end of the last table. Only ten men remained, all Lochlans. As she scanned a row, her eyes stuck like sap to the man at the very end. His brown hair shielded a portion of his face, but what she could see was so pleasing that she felt herself warm. His dark brown eyes met hers and her breath stuttered. He didn’t smile. Nor did he nod or show any reaction. He merely watched her.
Aerity felt her hand going up and down as the man in front of her shook it. Tearing her gaze away from the handsome lad at the end, she gave the man from Toresta her attention. He bowed his smooth head, smiling up at her with his narrow, brown eyes. She smiled back and thanked him for coming down from the ridgelands.
She felt guilty, because all she wanted to do now was hurry through the next nine hunters so she could get to the last. But as she moved down the line and looked toward the end again, she found that the gorgeous man was no longer there.
Confusion and disappointment rose as she searched the area. She felt Wyneth sidle up close and whisper into her ear.
“Are you looking for the skirt raiser?”
Aerity tried not to snort at her cousin’s phrase for good-looking lads, and gave a shrug.
“He’s by the stone risers, gearing up. Must be in a hurry to hunt.”
Aerity wouldn’t look yet. The last few men were waiting.
As they moved down the line, she felt Wyneth’s hand tighten around her arm. Her cousin suddenly stepped forward, asking, “What are you doing here, Harrison?”
Aerity gasped in surprise. Breckon’s cousin, the lieutenant, raised his chin at Wyneth. He appeared as poised as ever with his brown sailor’s haircut. His eyes went from Wyneth to Aerity, and the princess fought the urge to run into his arms and beg him to steal her away from all this.
His face remained stoic. “I’m here to hunt, of course.”
Aerity’s stomach plummeted. The hunt. If anything happened to Harrison . . .
“What about the navy?” Wyneth sounded ready to panic.
“They’ve temporarily discharged me with honor to hunt.”
“But Harrison, you—”
“Don’t worry, my lady,” Harrison said gently. Aerity noticed that he looked upon Wyneth with an underlying pain in his eyes that seemed to match hers.
Aerity gently pulled Wyneth back a step, stopping her cousin from saying anything else in front of the other hunters and causing a scene. Wyneth’s eyes were already glazing over, and she dropped her head, seeming to retreat into her memories.
“Thank you so much for coming out, Lieutenant Gillfin,” the princess said, for the sake of those watching.
He looked as if he were holding back a smirk at her properness toward him.
“There was never any doubt when I received the proclamation, Your Highness,” he said, matching her in politeness.
Aerity swallowed her fears and spoke quietly so only he could hear. “Please be safe, Harrison. I don’t think your family could handle losing another.” She didn’t need to add that she could not handle losing him either.
“I know.” Harrison’s eyes were grave. “But I must hunt, Aer. I must try.”
Wyneth pressed her lips together and shook her head. As frightened as Aerity was for him, for all of them, she respected Harrison’s need to hunt. Aerity took Harrison’s hand and held on for a moment, conveying her understanding. His returned gaze was grateful.
“Let me introduce you to Samuel from Loch Neck.” Harrison gestured to the curly-haired man at his side, who appeared a few years older with small lines creasing his eyes.
“Hello, Samuel,” Aerity said. “Do you have many family members in Loch Neck?”
“Only my parents, Your Highness. My wife . . . she died in childbirth two years past.”
Aerity’s heart sank. “I’m so sorry to hear that. You are brave to join the hunt, and you’re in good company with Lieutenant Gillfin here.”