Again, Paxton grunted.
The royal children clearly had too much time on their hands. And despite what his brother thought, he believed every person needed to be put in their place from time to time. Especially the rich ones.
“Here.” Paxton tossed the sharpening block to Tiern. “Hurry up and tend to your arrows so we can rest before dinner. Focus on the hunt, not the lasses.”
Perhaps he should take that advice himself.
From his spot on the ground, Tiern’s eyes widened. Paxton turned to see what he was gaping at. Lord Lief Alvi had approached them with a rolled map in hand. Paxton admired the man’s vest of fine rabbit fur.
“You’re locals, correct?” Lief asked.
“Aye.” Paxton stood and his brother followed. “From Cape Creek, a village fifteen miles northeast of here.”
Lief nodded, unrolling his map. “My men are adamant about hunting on our own for now, and since the total numbers of hunters are great enough I have agreed.” The lord sounded reluctant, but Paxton knew that part of what made a great leader was compromise. So they would keep to their original groups. Lief needn’t state the obvious—that his men wanted the glory of the kill and the prize of the foreign princess to themselves—things Lief could surely appreciate, even if the methods of his men weren’t the smartest.
Harrison and Samuel approached, nodding their greeting as they joined the conversation.
Together, the men plotted the best areas for each of the four groups to scout that evening. They decided to hunt in a slightly closer range, rather than spreading out as they had the night before. This would give them an opportunity to give chase to the beast, from group to group, possibly keeping it in their sights.
Once everything was decided, they called over the leaders of the Zorfinan and Kalorian groups and explained the plan. All were in agreement. With that, Paxton and Tiern retired to their small tent in the corner of the commons and slept deeply, garnering energy for what was to come.
Raised voices of their fellow hunters woke the brothers. They jumped from their cots, running out to see what was happening. The men were grouped, surrounded by guards, and as the brothers got nearer, Paxton noticed four new hunters standing in the middle, tall and proud in fitted black outerwear with black head scarves wound about their faces. Wicked bows made of animal’s antlers were slung across their backs.
“. . . not hunting with women,” Paxton heard Volgan grumble loudly. His eyes went back to the newcomers, to their high cheekbones and long lashes against dark skin.
In a flash, one of the women stepped forward and whipped out her bow, nocking her arrow and stretching it back just inches from Volgan’s nose. Her stance was strong. Paxton felt his eyes go as wide as Volgan’s, who had lifted his palms in surrender. That man hadn’t made any friends on this hunt. A hush ran through the hunters.
“Zandalee hunt,” the woman said in a thick accent.
“Whoa,” Tiern whispered, matching Paxton’s astonishment.
The Zandalee women were famous throughout Eurona but were spoken of as if mythical—a matriarchal tribe in southern Zorfina between the desert and the sea, bordering Kalor. A tribe where the women ruled. When Lochlan women were feisty, the men often joked that they were going Zandalee. But these women were nothing to joke about. They looked as if they could snap a man’s neck with their bare hands.
“Easy now,” said one of the guards. “Lower your weapon.”
The woman grunted out a word Paxton couldn’t understand. Then, slowly, she took her bow fromVolgan’s pale face, scowling at him.
“Everyone step back so we can figure this out.” The guards pushed their way in and faced the four women. The main guard hesitated, as if he didn’t quite know what to say. Then he lamely asked, “Eh, what can we do for you?”
“Zandalee hunt,” the woman repeated in a solid voice.
“Zandalee?” Asked the guard. “Are you saying you are a Zandalee? And you want to hunt?”
“Speak Zorfina.” She rolled the r harshly, making her sound even tougher.
The guard massaged the back of his neck and looked toward the male Zorfinan hunters. They shook their heads and stepped back as if they wanted nothing to do with the Zandalee women. The guard spoke to another guard over his shoulder. “Go to the castle and find someone who can interpret Zorfinan.”
Awkward minutes passed in which the male hunters stared down the female hunters, some whispering, as the women stared back with challenge in their eyes. Tiern gave Paxton an awestruck look as if enjoying the show.
Moments later, Paxton was surprised to see Princess Aerity return with an older officer at her side, flanked by guards. Her eyes went to the women with curiosity.