Paxton woke edgier than he’d ever been in his life. He felt a veritable pull toward home, though he had learned nothing new over the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday he’d waited for Rozaria to come to him. He’d wanted to learn more, needed to know more, but the thought of what he might have to do to find out made his gut twist. It ended up not mattering, as he’d merely caught glimpses of her as she was dragged from meals to meetings with the prince. Paxton had no choice but to sup with the other lackeys and try not to draw attention to himself. At least the food was good.
He sat on his pallet after breakfast, sharpening his arrowheads with a stone. Excited voices from the hall caused him to lift his head. A few men hooted in gladness and then rushed into the room, grabbing their belongings. Were they leaving? Paxton’s heart banged, and he began gathering his own things. He strapped his daggers across his chest and threw a tunic over his head, followed by his bow and quiver. Then he grabbed his pack and followed the other men out.
When they got to the palace entrance it was pandemonium. It seemed the entire staff was running about, carrying things, shouting excited orders, shouldering their way past Rozaria’s men and the Lashed army. It seemed chaos to Paxton, yet nobody was angry. A hand grabbed his from behind and he turned to see Rozaria’s beaming face.
“It’s time,” she said over the din. Paxton’s muscles clenched.
“To take over Lochlanach?” he asked. The words felt foreign and wrong.
Rozaria smiled. “Yes. The army is preparing to march. Prince Vito’s carriage is ready. It is time.”
Her voice, her eyes, were maniacal with the thrill of impending war. All at once Paxton remembered exactly who he was dealing with, and the duplicity of his thoughts toward her made him ill. This woman, whose affections he’d taken with a grain of salt, yet still managed to build a sense of companionship within him, was willing to kill Lochlans, to kill Aerity and her family, if it would ensure that her vision of rightness came true. She squeezed his hand and he nodded, afraid to speak.
Paxton felt powerless as he stared around at the thousands of people preparing to descend on his homeland. Lochlanach had no idea what it was about to face, and he had no way to warn it.
In the chill of the morning, Aerity stood on the castle’s balcony amid a line of guards, leaning against the stone railing, watching as timid Lashed made their way into the west commons. With each person who entered, Aerity’s heart swelled. She’d wanted to be down there, greeting those who came, but Harrison and her guards had adamantly warned against it.
The guards had been told to usher all Lashed to the long table, and ailing Unlashed to the rows of cots. So far there were eleven Lashed, all haggard in appearance, both men and women. No Unlashed had entered the west commons, though the royal lands and courtyards were beginning to fill with bystanders. She was glad she’d allowed the market and street vendors to open so the people would have food and be able to do some much needed trading, selling, and buying.
People were bundled in cloaks, fingerless gloves, and scuffed boots. All were milling about having hushed conversations, watching as the Lashed were escorted into the west commons. Aerity’s stomach was wound tightly. Come on, people, let them help you, she silently pleaded.
In no time at all, the area outside the commons was bursting with people, watching and waiting expectantly. Nervous energy filled the air. Guards and soldiers were everywhere, but they were outnumbered. Harrison and Lief were down there somewhere, trying to help keep the peace. If a revolt were to break out now . . . The princess shuddered at the thought.
“Shall I fetch you a warmer robe, Your Highness?” asked her nearest guard.
“No, thank you,” she whispered.
An hour passed.
Two hours. The grassy knoll and street outside of the west commons were filled to bursting. Twenty-two Lashed sat waiting by a fire in the west commons. Not a single citizen had approached to be healed. The volume seemed to rise. A scuffle broke out along the cobblestoned pathway where a cart was trying to get through the crowd, but it was quickly subdued by ready guards. Aerity’s heart was in her throat. Too much time had passed. Something had to be done. This was a disaster and had the potential to get so much worse.
“I’m going to address them,” she told the guards.
“Are you certain?” one asked. She knew it was foolish to speak unplanned, but this camp had been her idea, and she would do whatever she could to make it work. She prayed to the seas for the right words and then nodded and stepped to the edge, gripping the barrier.
“Good people of Lochlanach!” Her voice quavered. It took a minute of shushing and pointing within the crowd before everyone settled and stared up at her. Aerity had never been more nervous. She inhaled a cleansing breath and let it out slowly. Then she allowed her voice to reverberate through the heavy winter air.
“We have all been told a great untruth!” All was quiet as she paused, pushing herself to keep going. “You, and I, have been led to believe that Lashed and Unlashed can live apart.” A symphony of tense murmurs rose and Aerity shouted over them. “It is my belief . . . from what I have seen and learned . . . that Lashed were created to heal others, and Unlashed are meant to allow this healing and to protect the Lashed. We were created for a symbiotic relationship.” She brought her hands together in the air and twined her fingers.
“We need one another to survive. If I did not believe that with all my heart, I would not have organized this gathering today. I bring us together, not to appease the enemy, but to help my people thrive.” Her small fists banged down on the balcony railing in emphasis.
“Are there evil Lashed?” she yelled. “Aye, my good people. We know this to be true. We battle Lashed Ones this very day who choose to do harm to others. But I tell you, there are evil Unlashed as well. And all evildoers must be stopped and punished. It is time that we begin looking at one another as individuals rather than grouping one another into separate entities.” She fought for breath. “My parents have been taken. You all know that. It is time for this kingdom to come together, to join as one, if we are to have any chance at a future against our adversaries!
“I have brought you here today so that we may begin to embrace the truth, together as a kingdom. Apart, we are helpless to fight any powers of evil that threaten our peace.” She pointed down at the waiting Lashed. “Brave men and women have come today, and they have come to help you. These Lashed are not our enemies—they are your own neighbors! They are your fellow Lochlans! I know there are those among you with ailments that human healers have not been able to cure. I know there are women out there”—at this Aerity’s eyes burned—“who have lost countless babes.
“Why do you think the population in Eurona has dwindled over the past hundred years since magic was outlawed? Because it was never meant to be forbidden! Pregnancies need help. That is nature. And nature has provided a way. Let these good people help you!”
The side of her fist absolutely stung from banging it against the stone. Her chest heaved with emotion. Sweat trickled down her back despite the cold. Aerity’s eyes scanned the unmoving, silent people. Many had dropped their eyes. They waited. And waited. It wasn’t working. She pressed her lips together, trying desperately not to cry.
And then the crowd began to move. Oh, seas . . . were they leaving? But no. A young woman was being ushered to the front by a young man. Her husband, perhaps? From afar she seemed lethargic. She held her rounded stomach. They approached the west commons gates, and two guards swung them wide. The crowd shuffled to be able to see, and it was as if the entire royal lands held its breath.
One of the Lashed women stood as they entered and hooked the pregnant woman’s other arm over her shoulder. She led her to a cot and immediately set to work. Aerity wished she could hear what they said to each other. She leaned heavily against the railing, not wanting to blink. The pregnant woman did not look far enough along to give birth, but she must have been having complications to come forward.
The Lashed woman slid her hands onto the bare belly and the pregnant woman arched her back, giving a loud moan. Her husband held her hand against his cheek. The Lashed healer worked for several minutes. And then they watched as the woman began to sit up, the healer helping to gently lift her. A beautiful sound broke the air at that moment—laughter from the couple.
The pregnant woman placed a hand on her swollen stomach and laughed with joy. Whatever difficulty she’d been having with the pregnancy was obviously gone. Her husband said something and he laughed as well, taking her into his arms. And then the couple was crying. And Aerity quickly swiped hot tears from her own cheeks. The couple stood, smiling, and were led by a guard out of the west commons, back to the crowd, who converged with questions and wonderings. The Lashed healer clasped her hands under her chin.
Another woman broke through the crowd, raising a hand high and crying out, “Heal mine! Please!”
A man pushed his way forward carrying an older man. “My papa’s leg is broken!”
One by one, people came forward. A line formed. Aerity sniffed hard. She refused to let any tears fall.
“You’ve done it,” whispered the guard beside her.
Aerity shook her head. “This is only a start.” There were plenty of skeptical faces still in that crowd. Plenty of onlookers just waiting for the wrong move from a Lashed One—waiting for a reason to strike, to prove Aerity’s beliefs wrong.
But it was a definite start.
Aerity felt a light hand on her shoulder and she turned to the royal healer, Mrs. Rathbrook, her eyes watery. The woman cupped Aerity’s frozen cheek with her papery hand, nails lined from those she’d recently helped. “Blessings of the seas, Your Highness.”
Aerity gathered the woman into a hug and held her tight. “Thank you, Mrs. Rathbrook. I want to make it right.”
“You will, precious girl. You will.”
“Come,” said Aerity, taking her hand. “Let’s get in from the cold.”