He remained so still beside her, allowing her to keep his hand in her own.
Truth and understanding continued to pour over Aerity in a heavy wash. Stories cartwheeled through her mind—Lashed being persecuted and abused, rounded up and killed out of fear. She had studied the history of the Lashed in great detail. The thought of anyone seeing his hands in this state, of anyone trying to kill him, filled her with a fierce protectiveness. She held his hand tighter.
He could have chosen not to reveal this to her. Aerity felt certain that Paxton did not share his true identity lightly. In fact, he’d probably done it to scare her away, and at great risk to himself. Well, it hadn’t worked, because she wasn’t scared of him. If he’d intended to put a greater gap between them, he’d only succeeded in making her feel closer. Her heart filled with empathy.
Words would not do at this moment.
Aerity turned and their eyes caught. He stared at her as if wading through thorns, searching, waiting for what harsh word or sharp accusation might come from her lips.
The princess rose to her toes again, circling his neck with her wet hands, and pressing her mouth against his. He jolted in surprise before reacting. This time, he did not remain still.
Paxton’s free hand rounded her waist and pulled her body firmly against his. His mouth took over, his lips moving against hers in a heated rush of ownership that caused her entire body to react.
He growled against her lips. “Will you never cease to surprise me?”
Aerity was overwhelmed and could only cling to him, her eyes stinging with emotion as she soaked in all he’d held back, all he’d tried to keep hidden. She hadn’t been a fool after all—he’d felt this thing between them as much as she had.
Distant footsteps and voices sounded down the stone hall, and Paxton stepped away, rubbing his stubbled jaw with his uninjured hand. Aerity felt cold as she dropped her arms to her sides, except her mouth, which still burned. Paxton moved closer to the bucket, over which his injured hand hovered, the cloth now stained red.
“You should go,” he said.
“Please don’t leave tonight,” Aerity whispered. “Talk to Mrs. Rathbrook.”
She could only hope the woman would have some sort of idea or advice for Paxton.
His expression was one of disappointed strain. “I can make no promises to you, Aerity.”
She swallowed and nodded. This was about life and death for him. It was wrong that he should have to live this way, that he should have to give up his freedom. Aerity needed to speak to her father. Something had to be done in the kingdom. It was one thing to read about Lashed. To see this pain, to feel it up close, was wholly different. She felt ashamed at her past inaction. She could no longer be silent.
A quiet knock sounded on the door as it opened. Mrs. Rathbrook’s gaze passed between Aerity and Paxton before she let out a knowing sigh.
“Go,” Paxton whispered to Aerity.
The princess gave a nod and shared a meaningful look with Mrs. Rathbrook before she exited the room, leaving her to heal, and hopefully mentor, the magical man who had so ensnared her heart.
Chapter
33
Lady Wyneth held her skirts tightly in her hands as she walked over the cobblestones.. This morning she had started to choose a pale yellow dress, a favorite of hers. But even touching the fabric made her feel traitorous to her love’s memory. She chose gray again, though she knew Breckon would want her to be happy. He wouldn’t want her to continue mourning, but her heart was not ready to let go of what they’d had. A part of her would always long for that sweet love. Wind whipped past and she grasped the shawl at her chest.
A great divide had taken up residence within her—the half that ached to see Lord Lief Alvi each day and the half that dreaded it, knowing it was wrong to feed this interest for so many reasons. She hated herself for having these torn feelings for one man, as she wore the bereavement color for another.
Her heart became a rapid drum as she approached the entrance gates. Thankfully, Harrison and Tiern were standing close by with their bows strung across their backs, talking in low tones.
“Oy, lads,” she called to them. They raised their chins and smiled as she entered. From the corner of her eye she saw a group of men emerge from the tents, geared up. The tallest, broadest, blondest of their ranks stared in her direction.
Feeling his eyes on her, she was momentarily too distracted to speak.
“All right then?” asked Harrison.
“Oh, yes.” She cleared her throat. “I came to see what happened this afternoon.”
“Pax finally kicked that coldlandman’s arse,” Tiern said, grinning. “Been asking for it since day one.”
Wyneth raised her eyebrows. “But they’re both all right?”