“I must admit, I’m surprised,” Volgan said loudly. “I thought it’d be the scrawny one who went home first. Unless he’s got his big brother carrying his belongings for him.” The men sent up raucous laughs.
Paxton gritted his teeth, stopped, dropped his belongings, and turned. He would make time to take care of one last thing before he left.
Volgan’s icy eyes went wide just before Paxton’s fist connected with his nose. There was a loud, wet crunch. The sting of his knuckles and the sudden sounds of shouts disappeared as the two men locked eyes, a battle rage building between them. Paxton braced as the brawny Ascomannian threw himself forward.
Paxton never stopped moving, throwing punches, releasing all the anger he’d held. He barely felt the pain of the blows, his blood so filled with fire. Both grunted and shouted, beating each other senseless. He felt himself yanked down by the tunic when Volgan stumbled to the ground. They rolled, and Paxton caught the flash of something glint from the corner of his eye.
“Knife!” Tiern shouted.
Paxton brought the crown of his head down against Volgan’s already-smashed nose. As the Ascomannian howled, Paxton reached for the man’s wrist, which held a curved blade. But before he could get a good grip, Volgan lurched to the side and pulled his arm in, slicing through Paxton’s palm. He yelled as a violent sting wrenched through him, and he clasped his hand closed around the injury.
Paxton hovered above the man, raising his fist, and before he could swing, his arms were grabbed and pulled from behind. He kicked out and caught Volgan’s hip with his boot as he was yanked backward. Volgan rolled away, wincing with pain. It took four guards to pull Paxton off and hold him. Once he calmed, they lifted him to his feet. Lord Lief Alvi stood beside them with his arms crossed over his wide, bare chest.
“Finally had it out? Good. Took you both long enough.” He gave Paxton a wink and turned, his men following as he walked away. Volgan sat up, glowering at Paxton through his purpled eyes, spitting blood onto the grass.
Paxton looked down the narrow path, thankful his parents weren’t in sight. Paxton pulled himself from the grip of the guards. As his breathing settled, he became aware of the bruises and cuts across his flesh.
“You’re bleeding,” Tiern said to Paxton as one of the guards led Volgan away, toward the castle.
“I’ll take you to the infirmary,” a guard told him.
Paxton’s hand was clenched around the cut, but blood seeped through. This was no small wound. He wished he had the power to heal himself, but the magic didn’t work that way.
“I’ll tend to it myself.” He reached down for his bag with his good hand, but Tiern batted his arm back, making Paxton hiss.
“Don’t be so damned stubborn!” Tiern lowered his voice and moved close. “You’re bleeding everywhere. Just do this one last thing to ease my mind, and I swear I won’t ask you to stay again. I can’t let you leave here like this. You’ll get a fever or something worse—”
“Fine.” At this one word, Tiern seemed to relax.
Paxton’s hand was throbbing. The lack of sleep and physical trials of the past day and a half were finally catching up with him. He felt as if he could sleep for days. Maybe he would once he found a safe destination for himself. Once this cut stopped stinging, he’d be ready to go. He looked at the nearest guard, and said, “May I be taken to Mrs. Rathbrook?”
The young guard lifted an eyebrow and leaned closer where no one could hear. “You sure you want the Rocato touch? The castle has a regular healer who can sew that up and give you herbs for the pain if you—”
“No.” Paxton’s chest flamed with anger as he bit out, “Mrs. Rathbrook healed me before, and as you can see I survived just fine. She’s no one to fear. She’s not Rocato.”
The guard gave a “suit yourself” shrug, and Paxton’s fists itched to punch again. He let himself be led to the one place in Eurona where he did not wish to be while his fingers were marked—the castle. The place where the one person in Lochlanach lived whom Paxton’s mind and heart could not handle—the princess.
Chapter
32
Princess Aerity heard the commotion through the closed window of her studies room. Her teacher frowned at the disruption. He was already grumpy after having to postpone their lesson to late afternoon. But it was hard to concentrate when the men were shouting outside. Her heartbeat quickened as she began scribbling the last lines of her Eurona trade composition. She pushed it hastily toward her teacher and stood.
“Here you are, Professor. I’m sorry again for the delay today.” She grabbed her shoulder bag and rushed from the room.
When Aerity reached the great doorway to the commons, a guard held out his arm. “I’m sorry, Princess, but tensions are high among the hunters at the moment. I can’t let you go out there.”
“What’s going on?” she asked, trying to peer past him.