Page 87 of The Duke and the Disciple

Rustan glanced at Pieter, who could only shrug. Rahn’s sense of danger had spiked considerably during the brief exchange. His concern for Aesylt was so irrational, it had him envisioning the feasibility of swaddling her in his cloak, tossing her over his shoulder, and riding her back to the keep, where she’d be safe from whatever unidentified danger seemed to be waiting for her in the forest.

But he had no basis for his concern. Only a feeling.

“We have one new hunter with us today, our once-duke, Scholar Tindahl. He has better odds of walking away without a kill than with, but we wish him good fortune,” Rustan announced to whoever was still listening. “Rahn, I hope you’re not afraid of a little blooding.”

“Blooding?”

Aesylt found a bow she liked, wrapping her fingers in the grip and pulling back the string in several quick tests. She nodded at it and grabbed a full quiver, which she strapped to her shoulders. Her expression was lined with cool confidence, but there was a darkness in her eyes that left him with the same, paralyzing fear that something terrible was about to happen.

Rahn stepped in beside her. “I suppose I should start with the crossbow then, from what Lord Dereham said?”

She stretched her arm past him and slid the metal contraption his way. “Here’s how you load the bolt. You want the metal ones, not the arrows we use with the bows. Make sure it’s lined up right down this scoring here, along the stock, or you’ll misfire.” She secured it, lifted the weapon, and aimed it away from everyone. “This hook here is called a trigger. But you won’t pull it until you have your target perfectly in your sights, which you can do by aligning it... Like this, see? If shooting in the sky, pull a half-second earlier than you believe you should. If shooting on land, aim for the heart as much as you can. Never the gut, if you can help it.”

“Why?”

“They take longer to die, and that’s not how we honor the beasts that keep us fed. If we cannot offer a swift death, we shouldn’t take the shot,” Aesylt answered. “And, whatever is still in the stomach and intestines of the beast can sometimes contaminate the meat around it and make part or all of it inedible, which is not only a waste of food but of the life taken.” She sighed and glanced back at the table. “Don’t be one of those men who thinks because he has a good arm he’d be deft with a spear. You’ll either maim the beast or yourself, so just... do not.”

Rahn was impressed, though her sureness did little toward easing his growing dread. “You really do know what you’re doing. Mind if I come along with you?”

Aesylt shrugged, but quickly shook her head. “Stealth is key to a successful hunt. We need to stay as quiet as we can while we wait for our moment. I’m already at a disadvantage with all these guards pretending to be shrubs.” She slung the bow over her shoulder and reached for one of the remaining spears. She tossed the shaft, caught it with a strange smile, and lowered the sharp end toward the ground. “My advice is to stay as close to camp as you can, in case you need help. There will always be one or two men here at all times, refreshing their cache, and the dressing boys will be on quiet patrol throughout the afternoon.”

“You’ll be fine out there alone?” His sense of danger intensified with the suspicion she had other reasons for wanting to be alone.

“Would you ask any of these men the same question?”

He sighed in capitulation. “As always, you remind me to check my sensibilities.” He fought the urge to kiss her. It had become so natural—too natural. He was terrified they’d slip in front of the wrong person and that what they’d been doing in the cool tower room would become obvious to everyone.

“See you at dusk,” she said as she walked away.

Aesylt marchedthrough the melting forest with purposeful breaths that matched her full stride. She passed several men she only recognized from the ride to the woods. They weren’t spaced out nearly enough for her liking, and a couple seemed to even be partnering up. There was a reward at the end for the hunter who brought in the greatest weight. A gold cache, if she recalled, but she hadn’t really been listening, any more than she’d listened to the men whisper-prattle as they’d set up their blinds.

She adjusted her spear higher in hand when she reached a thicker patch of brush. The bow was small, like one given to a child, but it was the same kind she’d learned on. Killed with.

Tell them, girl. Tell them all how the king sends his love.

Aesylt staggered a step at the unexpected recollection, her vision flickering. She choked back the soldier’s cruel words, returning them to their safe compartment, where also lived the sensation of the monster’s spit running down her face and the horror of his trailing laughter as she rocked, shaking, on her father’s bloody bedroom floor.

Aesylt blinked hard and pushed on. She hadn’t seen a hunter in a while, and all she could hear was the occasional crunch of an animal and the heartbeat drumming between her ears. Her breathing labored, involuntarily allowing more holes to open in her mind, releasing what was inside.

She climbed to her feet, slipping twice on her father’s blood. Sobs shook her; tears blinded her. The competing stenches, every one of them unthinkable, had her fading. Father and Hraz were gone. Drazhan was still in the forest, if he was even alive. The celestial realm called, and it would be so easy, so easy...

“Nien,” she hissed under her breath. “This can’t happen if you don’t allow it.” She slung the bow tighter over her shoulder and grunted as she climbed a small embankment overlooking a modest valley.

She didn’t remember the walk from her father’s apartment to the gates of Fanghelm, but suddenly she was standing on the road. Smoke and flame burned to the east... the west. She headed south, toward the village, where most of the screams were floating from.

Aesylt closed her eyes tight and lengthened her limbs, focusing on being present, on leaving the past behind her. Lord Dereham’s offer was beyond generous, and her people desperately needed the meat, now more than ever with the town under siege and another failed Vuk od Varem behind them. She could actuallyhelpher village if she pushed through her discomfort, a win she desperately needed after being at the center of their present troubles.

The main road was littered with bodies. Bloodied. Charred. Some seemed to have died while running away from something, others while facing it head-on. There were hands, feet, and heads strewn about in a way that was so surreal, her mind convinced her a dream was the only explanation.

She screamed when she saw Niklaus’s mother clinging to a hitching post, her mouth frozen in the horror of death. Beside her were both of her dead brothers-in-law, kyschun who were only in the village one week a year, the week of the Vuk od Varem.

Smoke blinded Aesylt as she wondered who would replace them under the mountain, if there was anyone left to replace them.

Wheezing, she opened her mouth wide to take in more air, but it sent a billow of smoke straight into her lungs. She collapsed, but something caught her. She looked up and obscured through tears was the sobbing face of Nik.

Aesylt, shaking her head to clear the ash, wiped her face on her arm and spread her tools out across a tan blanket in a methodical line, cataloging and counting them. Last of them was the flare she was supposed to fire off when she was done, to signal to the dressing boys where to collect the carcasses.

She glanced into the tree she’d leaned both weapons against. She could climb it, but she and trees weren’t on the best terms after the Dyvareh. But the spot she’d chosen had plenty of brush cover, and she’d still have clear sight into the valley below, where several animals had already emerged to enjoy the thaw.

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