Page 27 of The Great Pursuit
Truth be told, he wasn’t feeling like his old, carefree self these days. The past months had opened his eyes and made him into a man, putting burdens and knowledge on his back that weighed down his smile. Between the great hunt and his brother leaving after saving Tiern’s life with his magic, aheaviness had settled about him. Add to that the things he’d witnessed in the towns of Lochlanach during his travels . . . those visions had rid him of the last vestiges of innocence in his heart.
Each day he’d been invited to dine with the royal family and Lord Alvi, and though he knew they saw his presence as a necessary precaution—a hunter on hand in case another beast invaded—he could not settle in and relax. The royals were too preoccupied to notice things that plagued him, like the way Lord Alvi sometimes watched him as if he didn’t trust him. Or the fact that he couldn’t hold his fork and knife in a proper way to cut his food and gently push pieces onto the edge of his fork to bring them to his mouth. He always dropped something, but the only person who noticed was Vixie. She was there with a smile and giggle every time.
Princess Vixie was the happiest, friendliest lass he’d ever met. His mood had been so dark since Lord Alvi killed the beast and Paxton left. The only time Tiern felt a fraction of himself was in Vixie’s presence. Her ability to lift his spirits was addicting. But ever since he’d learned he was of Lashed blood, and seen how the people of the land were reacting to Lashed Ones, his romantic ideals for the future had taken a dive into the depths of the seas.
The things he’d seen on his journey to the royal lands and in his own town, barely being held together by a few peacekeepers forcing the hotheads not to act in violence, had disgusted and saddened him to his core. He’d been prepared tohelp their local Lashed man if the townspeople had attacked, but thankfully it hadn’t come to that.
Towns were not faring well, and he shivered to remember. Burned homes and funeral processions. Eyes full of distress and mouths spewing malice. Normal people being worked up into mobs by hysterical leaders.
In one town he’d passed a man hanging from a tree by his neck with a sign that said Lashed Not Welcome Here. That could have been his brother, the best man that he knew. The sight nearly made him sick. Tiern had taken one look at the man’s unlined nails before sprinting down the path in a cold sweat to put distance between himself and those people. The man’s blank eyes haunted him. Had he been one of their registered Lashed who followed the law and never did magic? Or a sympathizer? Or merely a family member of a Lashed, like himself?
An irrational fear had risen inside him after that: Could people simply look at him and know he had Lashed blood, though he didn’t display magical abilities? Had people found out about Paxton and spread the word about the Seabolts? Was his family in danger?
Nay. He knew none of that was the case, but still his mind was cautious.
At breakfast on his fifth morning, a messenger entered and handed King Charles a parchment. The entire table stopped eating and stared, even the children, waiting to see how he’d react. Some mornings he simply read the note with a stoic faceand excused himself. Other mornings he would shut his eyes or bang a fist on the table. Yesterday he flipped his plate of eggs and sausages over before barreling out of the room with his lords and the queen on his heels.
“What’s it say, Papa?” Prince Donubhan asked, just as he had every morning. And once again the king ignored the eager boy, lost in his own thoughts.
As they waited, Vixie sent Tiern a nervous glance from across the table. But the king simply stood without opening the parchment, and left them. The lords, ladies, and queen shared heavyhearted glances before they got up and followed, accompanied by Lord Alvi.
Lady Wyneth didn’t get up, and Vixie nudged her, whispering, “Go find out what’s going on!”
Wyneth appeared hesitant. “It’s not good, Vix. It’s never good.”
“Will you tell me what’s happening? They won’t let me in.”
Tiern followed Wyneth’s eyes to where maids descended upon the royal children at the other end of the table, helping them focus on cleaning their hands and faces.
Wyneth looked toward Tiern and Vixie, then lowered her voice. “Each day a commoner in different towns throughout Lochlanach has turned up dead. In Rozaria’s original notice she said people would be killed by new beasts. But these deaths have all been done at the hands of unknown Lashed. No blood or injury to be seen. All young men and women.”
Tiern’s gut churned, and Vixie gasped in horror.
“What is he going to do?” Vixie hissed.
Wyneth gave a sad shrug. “She won’t stop unless the laws against magic are lifted.”
Vixie’s eyes met Tiern’s, so expressive in her dread and dismay. He bit his tongue against all the things he wanted to say. Why would a Lashed One do this? Did they not value human life? Tiern shut his eyes. No, he couldn’t say “they.” That wasn’t fair. It was not all Lashed—his brother would never act that way. But it frustrated him to no end that a select few had decided to act in this extreme way. Did they have any clue how they were hurting their own cause?
“And to make matters worse,” Wyneth whispered, “they still have not discovered which of the king’s advisers was the traitor. He’s decided to dismiss most of them and keep only the two oldest councilmen who date back to his father’s reign.”
Shock zinged through Tiern, and he leaned forward against the table. “There was a traitor?”
Wyneth slapped a hand over her mouth. The princess waved off her cousin’s worries. “Tiern can be trusted. You must know that on instinct or you wouldn’t have blurted it out.”
Wyneth’s face turned red.
“I won’t say anything,” Tiern promised. “I swear it.”
They explained to him what had happened with the list burning. All he could do was shake his head, powerless. This, all of this, was greater than any beast. This was terror within terror. The people were afraid of everything and nothing,the seen and unseen, the known and unknown, all at once. Rational people were turning on one another. Lochlans were turning on their kingdom.
“But if he declares the laws to be overturned,” Tiern thought out loud, “more than one person will die each day. The entirekingdomcould revolt. The towns . . . deep seas, the towns are not in good shape right now.”
Wyneth and Vixie both were quiet. What was there to say? They could do nothing.
“It makes me nervous for Princess Aerity to be studying abroad in the coldlands this month,” Tiern pondered. “I know she’s to marry a man from Ascomanni, but it still seems a poor time to send her on a trip.”
Wyneth and Vixie reacted strangely to this, blinking through a stretch of awkward silence. He immediately regretted saying a word.
