“Eh, Princess,” said the guard. “These women . . . I believe they wish to join the hunt, but . . .”
Aerity’s eyebrows went up as she moved forward. Guards pressed around her, forcing the male hunters to step away. Aerity spoke to the women in Zorfinan, accentuating the inflections, surprising Paxton with her level of fluency. She looked so petite standing there, conversing with an upward tilt of her head. A smile of admiration split her face and she turned back to the officer.
“These are women of the Zandalee, truly! They’ve sent their strongest hunters—isn’t this brilliant?” The man’s eyebrows shot up as he eyed the women in disbelief.
After several minutes of conversing, the princess nodded and turned to the hunters. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “The Zandalee will join the hunt. If one of them kills the beast, the brother of their head huntress, Zandora”—she motioned toward the woman she spoke with—“will collect the . . . reward on her behalf.” Once again the princess cleared her throat. Hunters muttered to one another under their breath.
“Wait just a moment.” The officer frowned. “Your Highness, I think we should discuss this with your father—”
“There is nothing to discuss,” Aerity snapped. “They are brave enough to join the hunt, so they shall hunt. I have accepted their terms. It is done, and I will alert the king.” She lifted her skirts in her fists and shared a nod with the Zandalee huntress, then kept her eyes firmly ahead as she marched away. The guards quickly followed, leaving the hunters gaping in shock. Paxton grudgingly admired the princess’s open acceptance of the unorthodox agreement.
Zandora’s gaze scouted the males as they all slowly retreated into their respective tented areas, whispering their dismay and casting backward looks.
Paxton, Tiern, Samuel, and Harrison stood there glancing around at one another before moving forward to the women. The Lochlan men stood eye to eye with the Zandalee women, who were a strange mix of feminine features and rough edges. They wore a stretchy sort of black cloth belted around their narrow waists, with head coverings that hid their hair and necks. They appeared as warriors, in contrast to the male hunters from other tribes of Zorfina who wore browns and tans to blend with desert sands.
Harrison was the first to give a small bow of his head. “Welcome to Lochlanach.”
Paxton wasn’t sure if the woman understood, but she inclined her head as well, and the rest of them did the same, showing their respect.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Tiern said, and Paxton sensed a babble coming on. “We’ve grown up hearing about the Zandalee, but we didn’t know if you were real. High seas, you’re amazing! You’re—”
“Tiern,” Paxton cut in. “That’s enough.”
Tiern, unperturbed, turned his awestruck eyes back to the girl before him, who appeared to be the youngest. She reached up and grabbed his chin, giving it a pinch in her fingertips. Zandora chuckled.
“Khoshteep,” she purred in Zorfinan, and the women gave mischievous laughs.
Tiern let out a nervous laugh of his own as the women sized him up. Paxton coughed into his hand to hide his mirth.
“Join us for a meal?” Harrison asked, pointing to the tables, which were currently being laden with food. Other hunters were beginning to make their way over again.
As the Lochlan men turned to lead their group to the table, the younger Zandalee squeezed Tiern on the bottom, making him yelp, his eyes going round. The women kept walking, and Paxton could not hold back a chuckle at the scandalized look on his brother’s face. Thankfully none of the other hunters seemed to have noticed.
“By the tides,” Tiern hissed. “I feel like a piece of meat!” He didn’t sound particularly upset about it, though.
“Aye.” Samuel chuckled under his breath. “I think someone wanted a slice of Tiern for supper.”
Tiern couldn’t stop smiling, unlike the other hunters, who were all still frowning and stewing about this newest development.
The Zandalee didn’t back down from anyone. They met the stares head on, throwing off airs of confrontation. Paxton was enjoying the addition of the huntresses more and more, especially as they sat down to eat with their weathered hands, grubbing with the best of them. When one of the Zorfinan hunters stared at them from under his head wrap, a snarl of contempt on his face, Zandora held up two curved fingers, like snake fangs, and hissed at him. He pursed his lips and dropped his eyes. The women laughed.
Paxton wondered what the story there was. Zorfina, like most of Eurona, was patriarchal. Were the men from other tribes ashamed of this matriarchal tribe in their midst? Kingdom politics were a funny thing. To each his own.