“I don’t blame you.”
Paxton peered at Rozaria, who’d slowed her horse to ride beside him. He kept his eyes straight forward, keenly aware that the woman in arm’s reach had the most powerful magic hands he’d ever encountered. “Well, I blame myself.”
She chuckled. “They were sly and quiet. I am a light sleeper and I heard nothing.”
He could feel Rozaria watching him, and he wondered at her genuine kindness toward him. If Martone or any of the others had been keeping watch, she would have had their heads. For a clever, powerful, distrustful woman to be so malleable in his hands after such little time, he could only thank the seas for his luck.
From in front of them, the hooded girl slowly turned her head and gave a hard glance at the two of them over her shoulder. Paxton could only see her nose, mouth, and chin before she turned back around. He nearly shivered.
Rozaria gave a small grin and lowered her voice. “Nicola is not as convinced of your innocence, but she is not prone to trusting men in general. And she is particularly protective of me.”
Paxton nodded, mentally making note. “Her devotion to you was clear to me from the start. It is good that you have her.”
“Mm. Her father was not Lashed. He did not know his wife was of Lashed blood until Nicola first worked magic as a child. She was trying to revive her mother after something ruptured inside her while delivering a dead child. Her father attempted to kill Nicola when he saw what she was—took a knife to her—but he didn’t expect her to fight back, timid as she always was. He was only able to cut her face before she grabbed hold of him and burst his heart from the inside. She lost both parents that day, but she gained me. Her energy was so strong I felt her from outside the house. I had been called to help, but I was too late.”
Deep seas. For the girl to have done that, survived that, as a child . . . it’s no wonder she was so loyal to Rozaria and so distrusting of men.
“That town,” Paxton said. “They knew what you are?”
She shook her head. “I was young myself at that time, only fifteen, and already a seasoned midwife. I knew Prince Vito, so I knew things were going to change in Kalor, but the towns still held many bigots. Lashed were only working openly in select groups. That was ten years ago. Things are different now.”
A low animalistic rumbling sounded from behind them, and several of the men spoke loudly. One man howled, apparently bitten or scratched.
Rozaria gave a roll of her eyes and yelled over her shoulder, “Subdue it, you fools. Don’t bait them with your shouts.”
After a few moments it quieted down. Only three of Rozaria’s beasts were ready for the journey. It had taken quite a lot of hands to calm them and force them into a deep enough slumber to transfer them to the cart-pulled steel cages. He’d double-checked the locks himself.
In that moment, Rozaria’s horse reared with a great whinny, and she tightly grabbed hold of its mane. Paxton looked ahead and saw a giant snake with a diagonal design that had slithered into their path. It was as thick as Paxton’s upper arm. The creature rose up with a vicious hiss at the horse. Beside it, Nicola gave a scream and her horse ran, nearly throwing her off.
Without thought, Paxton let loose an arrow and pierced the snake through the spot beneath its head. Rozaria soothed her horse and stared down at the serpent as it jerked its way back to the side of the road before going still.
“You are good to have around, hunter.”
She gave him a beaming smile of laughter, and in that moment she was just a woman. A beautiful woman who, in one vulnerable moment, had needed saving. And it was almost possible to forget she was a ruthless murderer. In that fleeting moment, Paxton had half a mind to try to reason with the woman about her methods. But then he remembered who she really was.
He nearly laughed at himself. He could not afford a single speck of weakness toward Rozaria Rocato.
As they trotted past his kill, a man from their caravan behind them jumped down and nudged the snake, then picked it up and threw it over his shoulders with a smile.
“Dinner,” Rozaria remarked, still with lighthearted laughter in her voice.
This time, when Nicola made her way back to the path and turned to stare at Paxton, she lifted her chin so he could see her dark eyes within the hood.
Two days of traveling through the thick terrain of foliage made Paxton long for home worse than ever. As soon as he learned a bit more about Rozaria and Prince Vito’s plan, he would abandon the Lashed ranks and race to his homeland with the information as fast as possible.
He thought of Aerity during every quiet moment. Nobody in all Eurona could have made him experience the gamut of emotions he’d had when she showed up at camp in that ridiculous disguise. It’s a marvel Rozaria hadn’t recognized her—those hazel eyes were a dead giveaway for him. The rest had only confused him for a moment before the farce became clear.
But to have done all that for him. For him. Deep seas, she could have been killed. And she must have known the risks. But still she came charging into Kalor to seek him. But why? To bring him home? To merely say hello? Was she married now? Or would she be soon? These were all things he’d had no time to ask.
In the course of that night she’d broken his heart when she’d believed him capable of evil, and then she’d revived him again and filled him with fuel to continue on.
He was in the midst of these musings when a high-pitched yipping sounded from above. Within seconds it grew and seemed to move. He peered up into the canopy of stretching, leaning trees. Rozaria was also staring up, smiling with mischief.
“The first line of defense,” she said. “We’re nearly to the fortress. It is entirely surrounded with tree ranks.” Ranks of soldiers in the trees? Did she mean those yipping sounds were people?
As they moved closer, he could make out a series of rope ladders and planks. His eyes roamed; they were everywhere! A complete series of treetop transportation. Men ran lithely through the canopy with their bows, arrows pointed. The soldier-like tribesmen were painted in greens and blacks, making them hard to see until they moved.
Rozaria cupped her hands over her mouth and sent up a high-pitched call to the trees, making the same yipping-chirping sound. The men up high gave a cheer.
Unease rolled through Paxton. It was one thing to fool a single woman. To fool an entire tribe and royal family was bound to be a bit more difficult. Especially if he was expected to perform further acts of atrocity.
Paxton took a silent, deep breath, and followed Rozaria through the maze of jungle to the fortress entrance. Around the grounds were wooden stakes with pointed tips, a barrier wall of them. The wooden gates swung wide and music poured out. Inside was a veritable festival.
The first thing he noticed was two people in multicolored outfits with oversize hats walking on wooden stilts above the crowd. Everywhere were bright colors, festive flags and banners strewn across the streets between rooftops, masks of wild animals worn by adults and children alike, scents of grilling food from street vendors. His stomach gave a deep growl.
Rozaria turned to him with a look of pride. “Welcome to the royal fortress of Kalor, hunter.”
“I’m surprised they allowed me in without question,” he said.
Rozaria grinned. “It is because you are with me. Nobody enters or leaves the fortress without permission.”
He nodded, tucking that information into his mind, feeling a noose of entrapment tighten around his neck. Escape from here would be nearly impossible. His facade of loyalty would have to be stronger than ever. He inclined his head to a tiger walking on his hind legs for its master. “Is it always like this?”
She watched the spectacle fondly. “Only when we are celebrating.”
She said nothing more, and in truth he was afraid to ask what was being celebrated. They moved at a slow pace through the crowded streets. Paxton sighted their destination ahead: a tiered building faced with smooth terra-cotta. Each level was smaller, topped with a dome on the fourth level.
When they neared the entrance, they slid from their horses and gave them over to eager stable boys. Paxton and their entire party followed Rozaria up the grand palace steps, where ornately dressed guards pulled open heavy doors for them. Straight ahead, down the wide hall, Paxton could see into their great room, where a man sat upon a golden throne at the top of a set of regal steps.
From afar, Paxton could make out no details except the long black hair, red robes, and scantily clad women flanking him. Before they could move any closer to that room, a woman dressed in bright green walked into their path, stopping.
She eyed their group and said something in Kalorian, pointing to an adjoining room to the left. And then she motioned Rozaria forward to the great room. Rozaria looked at Paxton.
“Go and eat with the others, hunter. I will find you tonight.” She disappeared into the great room, with Nicola a step behind, and its gold-trimmed doors shut tight behind them.
Paxton followed the other men toward the smells of spiced rice and marinated, roasted meats with vegetables. They set upon the table of food like animals. The maids could not refill their platters and glasses fast enough. Even Paxton found himself immune to basic manners in that moment.
Afterward they were ushered into guest quarters, which consisted of stalls of washbasins and a warm room lined with soft-looking pallets. As Paxton cleaned his hands and face he heard laughter and mumbles in Kalorian. The word Lochson stood out to him. He tensed a moment before continuing. They were speaking of the king. He wished he could understand.
He listened intently as he made his way to a pallet, but it was no use. Only a few words here or there were recognizable. Paxton lay his head on the downy pillow and forgot to listen anymore as sleep swiftly took him.