They were getting drunk, Aerity realized. She stared from her bedroom window, watching the revelry below as the sun rose, turning the horizon from dark blue to gray. Kalorian soldiers were everywhere. These weren’t the respectful tribesmen who had come to fight in the hunt. Those men valued life. These men were something altogether different. They were wild, without rules or boundaries. They threw one another to the ground, threw empty bottles, shot arrows straight up into the air.
And worst of all were the caged beasts in the middle of the west commons. They taunted them with spears and torches. Aerity couldn’t make out the creatures in detail, but she could hear their maddened howls and see their paws swiping at the perpetrators. She rushed away from the window and curled up at the headboard of her bed with the heels of her hands pressed firmly into her eyes. She rocked back and forth.
This could not be happening.
She thought of all the ways she could escape. The windows were definitely out. She’d lower herself right into the west commons with the madmen. She thought about opening the door and smashing her vase over the guard’s head. But what if there were more than one? And surely the halls were filled with them.
Aerity’s eyes scanned her room, looking for anything that might be used as a weapon. But what her gaze landed on was her bookshelf. She stared at it. At nine years of age she’d begged her parents to remove the dusty old books and allow her to fill the shelves with more interesting stories. They’d given her the bottom three shelves for her own tales but told her the top shelf of books was to remain—that she would appreciate them someday and not to bother with them yet.
Hope sprang to life as she ran to the bookshelf. She pulled at the books on the top shelf, flinging them to the floor one by one to reveal plain boards behind them . . . until she got three-quarters of the way through, and those books stuck. Her heart absolutely pounded now. Three of the books were fused together, just as the ones had been on the bookshelf in her father’s office. She grasped the top of them and pulled down with all her might until she heard a click. And then she pushed the bookshelf.
Oh, seas! It was moving! She glanced at her chamber door. All this time there’d been a hidden place in her room and she hadn’t known it! How many more were there throughout the castle? She held back an exhilarated laugh.
Unlike the hidden room in the office, this one smelled musty, and a small cloud of dust plumed out as the bookshelf swung outward. She glanced toward her door again and listened to be sure no one was coming. When she heard nothing, she stepped in, careful to keep the bookshelf from shutting.
What she found in the dim light was not a room at all. It was a passageway. Aerity examined the back of the bookcase and found a lever just where the set of books was. Unlike the vault in the office, this door could be opened from within. She looked down the narrow passage and saw an old torch on the wall. All she needed was to find something to light the torch and then she could leave. The passageway was pitch-dark otherwise.
Aerity went back into her room and tugged the bookshelf doorway closed before rushing to the hearth. She knew Caitrin kept a box with kindling, tinder, and flint around there somewhere. They weren’t on the mantel, only boring old urns and candelabras. She rushed to the side table and was about to open the drawer when voices sounded from the hall. Aerity sucked in a breath and spun around. She looked to the bookcase to be sure nothing was amiss and saw the books she’d flung to the floor.
Seas alive! She fell to her knees and snatched them into her arms before leaping to her feet again and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf and rushing away from the bookcase, brushing dust from her skirts.
Go away, go away, go away, she silently begged to whoever was out there. But they didn’t. Footsteps got closer. Low, male voices. The door handle was moving. When it opened she felt her mouth open in a gasp.
Paxton. His expression was hard and guarded. She had to keep from running to him because he wasn’t alone. He had a large Kalorian man with him who Aerity recognized at once as the brute Martone. Her eyes went large, remembering their time together in that tower room, and she looked down. He was the first to speak, using his native tongue.
“I am told you speak Kalorian.” His voice was gruff.
Aerity nodded, afraid to respond, worried he might recognize her voice.
“Prince Vito will rest today, and marry you tonight.”
Aerity brought a hand to her throat, tasting bitterness.
“Very good,” she whispered.
“He says for you to write a declaration to send to the people telling them of your union. He will approve it before it is sent out.”
Aerity nodded, swallowing hard. Martone walked to her tall chest of drawers and opened the top drawer, lifting her undergarments in a meaty fist and peering beneath them.
“What are you doing?” she asked in Kalorian.
“Removing any weapons.” The brute pointed to her desk. “Write.”
Aerity walked to the desk and sat, her hand shaking as she opened the top drawer and slid out a piece of parchment, quill, and ink. Once she wrote this, things would forever change in Lochlanach. The people would never trust her again if they thought she was willingly uniting with the enemy, handing them over to his rule.
“A seamstress is on her way,” Martone said as he tore another drawer open and rummaged through it.
Aerity’s eyes flitted to Paxton, who made a show of opening her wardrobe and pushing gowns aside while sneaking a look at her. She could see the calculating thoughts in his eyes as he tried to come up with a way out of this. She needed to be alone with him to tell him of the passageway.
Aerity turned her head enough to speak quietly over her shoulder.
“Sir, if you would be so kind, will you please relay a message to the prince on my behalf? It is important, so I need it to be conveyed by someone worthy of the prince’s trust.”
Martone stood taller. “What is the message?”
Her mind desperately cranked out a weak idea. “Please tell him I am also writing letters to the other three kingdoms. I need to know if there is anything he wishes me to include. They’ll need to be issued straightaway to keep the other kingdoms from interfering in our plans.”
Martone paused, then nodded. He looked at Paxton and pointed to Aerity, as if he was to keep an eye on her. Paxton nodded his head. Her hopes soared. Blessed seas!
Martone stomped his way out of the room and pulled the chamber door shut harder than was necessary. Before Aerity could even stand all the way, Paxton was in front of her, grasping her shoulders and hissing.
“You are not marrying him!”
“Sh!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bookshelf, whispering. “There’s a passage!”
“Wha—”
She reached for the books and pulled, releasing the old lever.
“Great seas,” Paxton whispered. Before she could get it open all the way he was pressing her inward and pulling the door closed. They were immersed in darkness and Aerity’s heart was thumping so loud he could probably hear it.
“I forgot flint!” she whispered. “We won’t be able to see!”
“You’ve got me, aye?” he whispered back.
There was the dry sound of his hand against the wall, and then the scraping of the torch being pulled from its spot. A tiny spark of light, the scent of smoke, and then the flame was crackling, filling the hall with flickering light as he pulled his hand away.
Aerity beamed up at him.
“Let’s get as far from your chamber as this passage will take us.” He held the torch high in one hand and grabbed her hand with his other, then led them forward. Aerity’s skin was alight from the hot thrum of blood through her body. She’d never been more nervous.
“I never knew this was here until I tried it today,” she said. “I’ve no clue where it leads.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“They’ll know you’re against them now,” she whispered. They turned a tight corner. “Martone will return any moment and they’ll know. It’s only a matter of time before they find us, and then—”
“Sh, Aer, we can’t do that.” He stopped and turned, holding the torch above their heads. His other hand went around her waist and pulled her until their chests were together, their pounding hearts pressed tight. She leaned her face against his shoulder and breathed him in, feeling his cheek rest on her forehead. The comfort of him was just enough to slow her heart.
“Let’s keep going,” she whispered.
He obliged. At the end of that long stretch he pointed to another lever on the wall. “It definitely connects with other rooms. This is good. But I think we should go farther.”
“Aye.”
They walked and turned for what seemed like forever. Aerity’s sense of direction had never been keen, so she had no idea where they might be at that point. But with every lever they saw and every corner they turned, she felt greater optimism. Finally, the hallway ended in a small room with a chair and chest. There was a lever in that room with an outline like her bookshelf.
They stood staring at it. “What room do you suppose it is?” she asked.
Paxton shook his head. “I believe we went east toward the front of the castle.”
“Guest quarters?” Aerity guessed.
Again, he nodded. Each pressed their ears against the wall, but the other side was silent. If someone were in that other room—if the passageway was discovered—they were both dead. But they couldn’t remain within the walls forever. Paxton rubbed his temples.
“Sit down a moment,” Aerity told him. He sat heavily in the chair while Aerity fit the torch into the sconce on the wall. She watched as he put his elbows on his knees and let his forehead rest against his palms. “How long has it been since you slept, Pax?”
He chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. Days.”
He’d been carrying the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.
“Let’s take a few moments to rest before we decide what to do,” she said.
Aerity crouched next to the chest and quietly pulled up on the unlocked clasp. Its hinges creaked when she began to open it, so she stopped and went slower until the lid was fully up. Inside was empty. “Well, that’s not helpful,” she muttered. She left it open to avoid more creaking.
Aerity pushed to her feet and stood before Paxton, gathering his head in her hands. He brought his arms around her, above and below her hips, and rested his face against her stomach, pulling her to stand between his open legs. She ran her fingers through his hair, then over his smooth cheeks. In that one single moment, her world felt right.
“I love you, Aerity Lochson,” Paxton whispered into her skirts, and her heart brimmed with fullness.
“I love you as well. Even if you were a rogue skirt raiser when we met.”
His chin lifted to send her a questioning look. Aerity smiled. “It’s what Wyn used to call you.”
A small, tired grin played on his lips.
“What will happen to us, Pax?” she whispered.
A deep sense of desperation to grasp their time together rose within her. This could be it. This could be their last moment alone together.
He held her tighter and pressed his forehead into her abdomen. “I just want to keep you safe.”
“And you have. We’re safe right now, aren’t we?” Her heart began a rhythmic pounding as she realized what she wanted. Perhaps it was foolish and dangerous, but she’d never felt such dire desperation. “You have my heart in this lifetime and the next, but we are not promised more than this moment together.”
He lifted his chin to peer at her again, whispering fervently, “I won’t let Vito touch you, Aerity. I swear it.”
“We don’t know what is to happen when we leave this room. And even if by some miracle of the sea we’re able to escape and somehow beat Kalor . . .” Her voice caught. “I am still promised to Lief.”
She licked her dry lips. Paxton’s brow creased at this thought, and he dropped his gaze. She took his chin and lifted it to look at her. His eyes were full of remorse at the mention of her marrying, as if he’d lost her already.
“I am yours, Paxton. And we have now.”
He stared at her a moment longer. His voice deepened. “What are you saying, Aer?”
“I think you know,” she breathed.
He stared. She could see the war between yearning and fear in his eyes. She wondered if the pattern of his heartbeat matched the gallop of her own.
Aerity’s voice shook with nerves and need. “Give me a memory of our love that I can keep with me always, Pax. Something no one can take from us.”
His tight jawline began to relax, and she watched as the fear shed away and pure yearning took over. Slowly, with his eyes fastened on hers, his hands roamed down from her hips, down her legs, and grasped the bare skin of her ankles before sliding back up, under the hem of her gown. Aerity’s breath hitched as his hands cupped behind her knees, stroking upward to the backs of her thighs. His small grin turned wicked.
“You want me to make good on my nickname?”
Aerity seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. All she knew was that she did not want Paxton to stop. In that hidden room she was not a queen. She was simply a lass in love with a lad, and wanting nothing else in the world than to give him everything and take all he was willing to give in return.
“Aye, Pax. That is what I want.”
His gaze heated. His hands slid upward, under her petticoats and over her hips until his fingertips circled her bare waist and held tightly. He gave her a tiny shove back without releasing her, enough to pull his knees together and yank her forward again to straddle his lap. Then he raised her skirts and lowered her, a hand behind her back and one on her neck. Aerity whimpered at the feel of him through his breeches.
She loved that he didn’t question her forwardness, didn’t ask if she was sure or attempt to save her virtue, because despite her obvious nervousness he trusted her judgment. She knew he’d give her anything she wanted if it was in his power.
Their mouths met with passion and impatience, knowing their precious time together could be stolen from them at any moment. Paxton curled his fingers around the fabric at her shoulders and pulled it down her arms, below her chest as far as the chemise would allow. He kissed down her neck to the softer, fuller skin of her breasts now displayed.
“Seas!” she whispered as his hot mouth enveloped her sensitive skin. She grasped his head and arched her back. Aerity needed more.
She reached for the bottom of his tunic and lifted it. He raised his arms and let her pull it up, tossing it into the open chest. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, down the front of him where the daggers were strapped. He stripped the blades and set them on the floor. She relished the way his breathing quickened as he watched her touching him, her hands moving down his taut stomach.
Her eyes landed on his hands on her thighs. The tops of his nails still had a bit of flesh tone, but the bottom sections of his nails were all purple. A quaver worked its way through her at the power that lived inside this man.
She slowly inched back on his lap and felt for the ties of his breeches at his waist. Her hands trembled as she undid them and pulled them down. Her heart gave a bang. Their gazes struck like flashes of lightning, causing a wave of pounding heat to rise between them.
Paxton shifted beneath her and raised Aerity up by her waist, taking her mouth with his as he lowered her slowly back down onto himself. She clung to his shoulders. He caught her quiet cry in his own throat and held her tightly as they became one.
She was Paxton’s, come what may. Not Lord Alvi’s. And never Prince Vito’s. Only Paxton Seabolt’s, and nobody could take that from them.