The Great Pursuit

by Wendy Higgins

  Pax pushed to his feet and wiped his swollen mouth with the back of his hand. Despite the pain in his face and ribs, he was overwhelmed by gratefulness at the man’s interruption.

  Rozaria’s face was blazing. She raised a hand to Martone and he cowered. She lowered it and pointed to the tent flap, shouting a Kalorian phrase. Martone huffed through his nostrils like a bull before leaving the tent.

  Paxton touched the corner of his mouth with his tongue, tasting copper and salt. Rozaria moved to stand before him and raised her hands to his face. Anger was obvious in her tight, stern features. He closed his eyes, still breathing hard, and let her heal him, feeling heat radiate through her fingertips as she ran them over his mouth, chin, and cheek. She murmured softly as she worked, and when she finished their gazes met.

  He knew from the trust in her eyes that he had achieved what he’d set out to do. Relief and guilt pummeled him. He’d never been so out of control. It all felt wrong. Wrong, but necessary. He hoped tonight would do the trick, and he could avoid future alone time with her. Then again, Rozaria was a determined woman. What had he gotten himself into?

  He forced himself to show one last moment of affection, pushing a dark strand of hair from her eye. “When do we leave this camp for your royal lands?”

  “In two days’ time. I expect two more of my men to return by then. Tomorrow I must tend to my creations.” Her creations? She moved forward until her body brushed against his thigh. The touch of her brought back his actions moments ago, when he’d been on top of her, and the feeling of wrongness invaded again.

  The beating had been worth it. Paxton had clearly not been in his right mind, carried away by the onslaught of every emotion and desire he’d been suppressing. He could not let that happen again. And no more wine. The slight fog over his senses did not help things at all.

  “Get some rest, Rozaria.”

  “Perhaps I am not tired,” she said with defiance.

  “Perhaps I am.” He gave a slow grin, feeling weariness in his eyes.

  Her lips puckered in annoyance, but he turned and lifted the tent flap, exiting into the night, wishing he could wipe his mouth and memory of the things he’d done. He’d prefer to avoid another run-in with Rozaria’s lips and Martone’s fists, seas willing.

  Chapter

  13

  Paxton was up before the sun the next morning, preparing the fire for breakfast and tending the horses. Konor joined him down at the lake with a bucket, and together they carried the water up to camp to be boiled in pots over the fire. They got the first one started and sat together on a log.

  “What was it like?” Konor asked him.

  Paxton looked into the man’s wondering eyes for a moment before he realized what he was asking about: the man he’d supposedly killed. Konor’s keenness made Paxton uncomfortable.

  “Taking a life is no small thing,” Paxton muttered.

  “It seemed simple enough when you did it.”

  Curses. Paxton gritted his teeth. “He was not a good man. It was . . . necessary, but it brought me no joy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  At this, Konor seemed disappointed. “There were lots of men like him in my town. I never did anything wrong, and they still looked at me like I was scum, especially this one man, the town’s messenger, Davito. He had to pass my house every day, and every day he spit on my door. When I heard about Rozaria, and found out things were changing, I knew I had to find her. But first”—he held up his lined fingernails, a frightening smile on his face—“I killed Davito’s cow and goat.” Konor let out a chilling laugh.

  Paxton had to turn away from the man. “I’m sorry to hear you were treated that way.” And even more sorry to hear he’d reacted to hatred with more hatred.

  “Everything is going to be okay now,” Konor said wistfully.

  Rozaria emerged from her tent, and Konor jumped to his feet. Paxton was slower to rise, but her eyes found him straightaway and she made her way over to him.

  “I’d like to show you something.” She looked from him to Konor. “Both of you. Come.”

  They followed, and Paxton realized she was leading them to the building where they’d held the prisoner. She spoke over her shoulder as she walked.

  “At each camp I have a place where I work on my creations. Two were sturdy enough to be transported from our last camp, though I’m not certain one will make it.”

  “You mean your monsters?” Konor asked with a thrill.

  Rozaria nodded, fondness in her voice. “My beastlings.”

  Paxton’s stomach turned to a heavy, plunging stone within him as he remembered the unnatural creature he’d fought in his homeland. He did not want to go into that building—to see her at work—to witness magic being used in ways that were not good for anyone. But he held his tongue and followed. One of her guards stood at the door. When he opened it for them, Paxton nearly doubled over.

  The stench. He’d come across carcasses in the wild, half-eaten by vultures, so he recognized the smell of death. But this was concentrated and unfiltered. Even Konor covered his nose with his arm. Rozaria grinned.

  “That is the smell of years’ worth of hard-won conquests. Let yourself become one with it.”

  No, thank you.

  Konor dropped his hand, but his face was still pinched. They followed her into a dim room where she lit a torch with her fingers, then used it to light others along the wall. Paxton could not believe his eyes. He and Konor stood there, gaping at the giant, elongated room with iron cages holding young animals and older ones that appeared pregnant, all sitting in their own excrement.

  Rozaria clucked her tongue. “I am glad to have new people at camp. I shall get Chun’s daughter and nephews to clean these cages.”

  Paxton eyed the animals: chimpanzee, ocelot, jaguar, panther, and leopard. There were also giant lizards that he had no name for, and smaller cages with predatory birds and enormous spiders. At the end in the largest cage was something large and black, with thick, curved tusks.

  “What’s that one?”

  “That is a cape buffalo. Very strong. They have quite a temper when roused. But they are not fast runners. This one will deliver soon, and I will fuse the babe with the panther’s body.”

  Konor’s mouth made an O of wonder. Paxton was caught between morbid curiosity about how any of this was possible and an urge to set all the animals free and burn the building to the ground.

  She led them around a corner into a smaller room with more cages.

  “These are my newest.”

  A small furry ball the size of a lap dog uncurled itself in an upper cage, blinking large black eyes in a lion cub face. It flopped onto its belly and sat up, appearing to have the body of a black bear with overgrown paws and claws. Rozaria shook her head as she peered at it. She grabbed a stick and poked through the bars, shouting a command in Kalorian.

  The cub immediately pounced on it, grabbing it in its paws and rolling onto its back as it playfully licked the stick. Konor laughed, but Rozaria sneered, shutting him up.

  “This one shows no inclination toward attack,” she said. “I should have known better than to take the newborn cub of a traveling gypsy’s tame bear. Worthless.” She nudged it harder with the stick, jabbing its tough belly, and the cub yelped, pressing against the back of the cage and giving her the saddest look. Paxton had to keep himself from pushing her away from the thing. Rozaria sighed and dropped the stick.

  “He’ll be a waste of food. If he can’t get his act together I’ll get rid of him.”

  Paxton watched the cub as it curled up and eyed them warily. Aye, he was a hunter and he ate animals, but he had compassion for all living things. This one, in particular, tugged at his heart.

  A loud hissing from below made Paxton and Konor step back, but Rozaria squatted with a smile. They peered in at a reptilian creature. It had the body of a dragon lizard, with extraordinarily long legs and a whiplike tail, but its neck and head were that of a python.

  Roz
aria thrust her face forward and made a vicious hissing sound. The young creature swiped at the metal bars with its long claws and hissed in return. Rozaria chuckled. The creature was relatively small, but it would no doubt eventually grow to be as long as Paxton. The sight of it gave him chills.

  “How’d you do that?” Konor asked. “Make two animals become one?”

  Rozaria smiled, as if she had hoped someone would ask this question. Without a word, she went back into the main room and they followed. She came to a crate in the corner and took out a small, stiff, furry carcass, laying it on the nearest table.

  “This one did not make it. It had complications while I was away. In the early stages they need constant care.”

  Paxton and Konor inched closer to see the creature. It appeared to be a miniature version of the beast that had ravaged Lochlanach. A warthog’s face, scales along its torso, and arms and legs like a bear.

  “I take the strongest, most dangerous parts from animals and fuse them together. Living things are fragile, but there is a small time span when they can die and be brought back—just enough time to be cut and pieced together. I have to be sure each has the working parts that it requires on the inside. It takes great concentration to bind flesh and bone of one to another.” She ran a finger along the line of the creature’s back, where it seemed that a rectangle of reptilian skin had been patched. “It only works on younglings that are still growing. If the binding works, I then infuse magic to enlarge them and strengthen certain parts.”

  She took its stiff paw, pressing the oversized claws into the pads of her fingers. “When I send my energy into these creatures, it’s almost as if they are made of countless tiny entities, and I must speak to each one. To rework each thought process about what its limits are.”

  A chill of fascination overtook Paxton. He remembered feeling that way when he healed Tiern, as if his magic were encompassing the smallest of rogue particles and forcing them to his will. But to hear her say it, in this context, appalled him.

  Konor stared at her in open awe. “And then you train them?”

  She nodded. “Once they are strong enough and I know they will survive, I begin tests of strength and loyalty, then instill a desire to protect at will and attack on command.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” Paxton asked.

  A fond look crossed her face. “My entire life. My father was the one who started this work. His first creature was an ugly, small, mutilated thing, but it lived. He didn’t know he could grow it at that time. We learned much together.”

  “Where is he now?” Konor asked.

  “Dead. When I was ten I watched as a beast with a tiger’s face took his throat in its mouth during training. I swear, he was smiling with pride when he died. He could not be saved.”

  She looked at Paxton and Konor matter-of-factly before dropping the dead beast into the crate and wiping her hands on her skirts. “You will both be required to do rotations guarding this building and keeping watch over the beasts, helping as needed.”

  Both men nodded, Konor a bit more enthusiastically. The door opened behind them, and they all turned to see the hooded girl enter.

  “Ah, Nicola,” Rozaria said. She looked at Paxton. “It is time for us to begin our work.”

  He nodded. “I would be happy to hunt today for the camp . . . if you see fit to return my bow.”

  She squinted at him, causing his heart to race, then she gave a slow nod. She called out something in Kalorian to the guard outside.

  “Roza . . .” said the girl, Nicola, in a warning tone. Paxton looked at her, but could only see her lips and nose. She seemed to be staring pointedly at Rozaria. Was she warning her against giving him back his bow? Rozaria said something soothing to the girl before returning her attention to Paxton.

  “You shall have your weapons.”

  Triumph raged inside him as he calmly said, “Thank you.” Perhaps if he could find a wild boar to feed the camp, he’d be able to gain the trust of the others. Regardless, he had seemed to earn the trust of Rozaria Rocato, and for that he thanked the seas.

  Chapter

  14

  Vixie was concerned about Tiern. He wasn’t at breakfast that morning, and he’d been awfully quiet since he’d arrived. He had to be worried about his brother, and missing him, as she was missing Aerity. But his entire being seemed to carry a darkness that had never been there before, and it had worsened after his conversation with Lord Alvi. She intended to find out what had stolen every morsel of his joy.

  She had stopped trying to gain admittance to her father’s study. She knew Wyneth would tell her everything. So after breakfast she’d rushed to her chamber to change into riding clothes. The first winter cold had set in, so she donned a forest-green woolen hat with fur lining, a matching scarf, fingerless gloves, and a fitted riding jacket. She set off toward the guest chambers planning to ask Tiern to join her. She was wary of bringing up his brother, because, to be honest, she couldn’t understand why Paxton would up and leave for good. Even if he had fallen in love with Aerity, as Vixie suspected, it was still selfish for him to leave his family forever.

  At the entrance to the guest hall, a maid was coming out of a room carrying a tray of dirty breakfast dishes.

  “Is that Tiern Seabolt’s chamber?” Vixie asked her.

  The older maid stopped at the sight of the princess and made an awkward curtsy with her hands full. “Aye, Your Highness, it certainly is.”

  “Is he well?”

  “Seems to be, aye.” The maid tilted her head with interest at the princess’s questions.

  Vixie knew better than to try to enter his room on her own—it would bring a scandal upon the both of them and her parents.

  “I need for you to fetch him, please. I’ll hold this.” Vixie tried to take the tray from the woman’s hands and had to pull harder than expected.

  “But, Princess!” The woman sputtered in horror at the sight of Vixie holding the dishes.

  “I’m fine, miss.” Vixie looked up and down the empty hallway. Only a bemused guard was watching. “Please let Mr. Seabolt know that he’ll need a coat.”

  The woman wiped her hands down her apron before clasping them together nervously. “Very well, then.” She bustled to Tiern’s door and knocked. When it opened, Vixie couldn’t hear what they were saying. Tiern stuck his head out, and Vixie smiled at him, suddenly feeling foolish with the tray. His brow creased and he dropped his head. She heard him say, “One moment.”

  The maid hurried back to Vixie and took the tray, looking relieved to have it in her own hands. “Shall I stay, Princess?”

  “No, but thank you. The guard’s supervision will do.”

  The maid stood there another moment, unsure, before giving a small bow and scuttling away.

  Vixie pulled off her hat and pressed down the curls. After what felt like too long, Tiern’s door opened and he walked to her, unsmiling, holding a short winter coat over one arm and his bow and quiver in the other. He gave a small, formal bow and looked at her, waiting. A bit of enthusiasm left Vixie. He looked as put together as always—tall and lean, without a single wrinkle in his tunic or a hair out of place. It was the air around him that seemed to have changed. Dulled and still. And it made Vixie sad. She fiddled with the hat in her hands. Tiern set down his coat and weapons on the hall table. All the chatter she’d wanted to unleash simply died into one simple request.

  “Ride with me?”

  Avoiding her gaze, he wiped his hands down the front of his tunic. “I’m supposed to scout the royal lands with Lord Alvi.”

  Vixie narrowed her eyes. He scouted with Lord Alvi every day between the morning briefing in the king’s office and lunchtime. He had nearly two hours until it was time to go. Seas alive, he was making excuses not to be near her!

  “Have I offended you in some way, Tiern?”

  His brown eyes became vibrant, and he shook his head. “Nay, Princess. You’re . . . as lovely a person as ever.”

 
He flushed and clenched his jaw, looking aside as if he regretted saying it.

  “Then why in Eurona are you suddenly treating me as if I’m plague ridden?”

  He glanced anxiously over her shoulder at the guard. In a low voice he replied, “I’m doing no such thing. I’m here for the safety of the kingdom, to scout and hunt, not for recreation. Have you forgotten you’re a princess and I’m a commoner?”

  Vixie scoffed. That was his excuse? “I don’t care about that!”

  “Perhaps not, but many do. It’s not proper for the two of us to gallivant around royal lands together while the kingdom is in turmoil.”

  “What else am I to do?”

  “Sh . . .” Tiern held out a hand and pressed it down, glancing at the guard again.

  Vixie threw her arms out, refusing to be quiet. “Oh, I don’t give a swimming rat who hears! You are my friend, and there is no reason why we should sit about on our haunches, twiddling our thumbs and not speaking. How does that help the kingdom?”

  Tiern’s hands went loosely to his hips, and he closed his eyes. Each word he said seemed to come out with reluctance. “Things have changed, Princess. Friendship is no longer on my mind. I’m sorry.”

  His words hurt, though she couldn’t help but feel he was being evasive. Something else had to be going on here. “Open your eyes and tell me you don’t want to be friends, Tiern Seabolt.”

  He opened his eyes, stood taller, swallowed hard, and said in choppy words, “I . . . don’t want to be friends.”

  “Liar!” Vixie pointed at him and laughed. “That was a terrible lie. What is this about? Tell me!”

  A truly worried look crossed his face, as if the conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected. He blinked, at a loss for words. And, seas, he was adorable when he was flustered. Vixie shoved the hat down over her ears and patted the top of her head.

  “You’re taking a ride with me,” she said. “As your princess, I order you. Come along.”

  Vixie turned and swept from the guest hall. The guard brought a hand up to scratch his lip, and she could have sworn he was covering a smile. Well, he could laugh all he wanted. This was nonsense.