The Beauty of Darkness (19 page)

The vows we made to each other, the trust written on our souls, all of it swept past me as he brought his mouth back to mine. Our hands knotted, and the rhythm of his breaths surrounded me. Every kiss, every touch, was a promise that we both knew, I was his and he was mine, and no conspiracy or scheme of kingdoms had a fraction of the power that surged between us.

 

CHAPTE
R
TWE
N
TY-EIGHT

We hurried up the steps of the veranda, neither of us feeling guilty about being late for dinner, but we were both caught by surprise when we saw Kaden and Griz among the guests. Captain Hague took particular delight in whispering, “As per your orders,” as I passed him.

The timing for listening to me couldn't have been worse, and he knew it. Rafe's hand tensed in mine when he saw them. Making peace with Kaden was still a long way off for him. As uneasy as everyone at the table was with their presence, I knew none were as uncomfortable as Kaden and Griz. To Kaden's credit, he avoided saying anything that might be construed as combative. He seemed contrite even, which I hoped was a sign he regretted his method of delivering “honesty.” The unsaid and the innuendo had tarnished his truth. I supposed we all needed practice at it. Truth was a harder skill to master than swinging a sword.

Even Jeb had come to dinner, refusing to be confined to bed any longer. I could only imagine the pain he'd had to endure to wriggle his arm and shoulder into the freshly pressed shirt, but he wore it with style and pride. Cruvas linen, no doubt.

Banter turned to the upcoming party plans and spirits grew lighter. Our dinner mates seemed to grow more at ease with Griz's and Kaden's presence—though even their smallest gestures were still monitored.

Rafe made it through the evening with considerable restraint, though several times during dinner, his hand strayed to my knee beneath the table. I think he enjoyed watching me stumble over my words. I returned the distraction when he was deep in conversation with Captain Azia. After having to begin the same sentence three times, he reached under the table and squeezed my hand, to stop me from drawing lazy circles on his thigh. Captain Azia blushed as if he knew the game we played.

*   *   *

The next day was crowded with more duty for Rafe. I saw the weight of it in his eyes. He'd had to muster incredible self-control back at the Sanctum, keeping up a charade day after day by playing a conniving emissary, and now he had been thrust into another new role—one that came with enormous expectation.

I was walking past his tent when I heard strained voices within. Rafe and Sven were arguing. I stooped near the curtained door to relace my boot and listen. A message had arrived saying the rotation of troops would be delayed a few days, but it also brought news of a growing rift between the assembly and the cabinet.

“That's it,” Rafe had yelled. “We're going back now, escort or no escort.”

Sven stood his ground. “Don't be a damned fool! The message Bodeen sent has arrived at the palace by now. It will announce you're alive and well and on your way, but you can't discount the fact that enemies will also know you're on your way. It's too big a risk. A large escort is prudent. Knowing you're alive is enough to calm the assembly until we get there.” Rafe's reaction to cabinet squabbles seemed excessive, and I wondered if I had missed something, or maybe the news had simply added to his impatience.

Rafe wasn't the only one growing impatient. With each passing day, I was more certain I needed to leave. The pull grew stronger, and I had restless dreams. In them I heard pieces of the Song of Venda, a jumbled melody punctuated by my own breathless running, though in the dreams, my feet refused to move, as if they had grown into the ground beneath me, and then came the low rumble of something approaching. I felt its hot breath on my back, something hungry and determined, the refrain sounding over and over:
For when the Dragon strikes, it is without mercy.
I would startle awake, trying to catch my breath, my back stinging with the memory of sharp claws slicing into me, and then I would hear the Komizar's words as clearly as if he stood beside me.
If any royals survive our conquest, it will give me great pleasure to lock them up on this side of hell.

After a particularly restless night, I went into Rafe's tent the next morning while he was still dressing. He was in the middle of shaving. I didn't bother with greetings.

“Rafe, we have to talk about my going to Morrighan to warn them.”

He studied me in the reflection of his mirror and dipped his lathered razor in the basin to rinse it. “Lia, we've already talked about this. The Komizar is gravely injured or dead, and the Sanctum is in chaos with more dead. You saw how the Council was, like a pack of hungry dogs. They're tearing each other apart right now.” He took another swipe at his neck. “And none of those left have the ability to lead any kind of army anyway.”

“For now. We hope. But I can't take a chance on guesses. I need to go back and—”

“Lia, the bridge is destroyed. They can't even get across.”

“Bridges can be fixed.”

He dropped the razor in the basin and turned to look at me. “What about the bounty on your head? You can't just waltz back into Morrighan. We'll send word. I promise.”

“Word? To whom, Rafe? There are traitors in the cabinet conspiring with the Komizar, and I don't know how many. I wouldn't know who to trust, and the Chancellor intercepts—”

He wiped his face with a towel. “Lia, I can't go back to Morrighan right now. You know that. You've seen the turmoil my own kingdom is in. I have to settle things there first. We have time to figure this out.”

He didn't get what I was trying to say. I knew he couldn't go to Morrighan with me, but I saw the look in his eyes. He wanted me to trust him. Time felt like precious sips of water slipping through my fingers. His gaze was unwavering, bright, and sure. I nodded. I'd give it a few more days, out of necessity if nothing else. The physician had said Griz couldn't ride a horse or wield a weapon yet. The long neglect of his wound made it slow to heal, but the healthy flesh was beginning to knit together—if he was careful and didn't tear it loose again.

Rafe buckled on his scabbard and gave me a quick kiss before he left. The officers were riding out to observe training exercises. He seemed relieved to be doing something within the realm of his expertise—being a soldier—instead of arguing with Sven or Bodeen about court matters.

I stood in the doorway of his tent watching him walk away, wishing it was simply a matter of sending word to Morrighan, but I knew a messenger from Dalbreck probably wouldn't even make it past the border alive.

*   *   *

The next morning, Vilah, Adeline, and Madam Rathbone brought more dresses to my tent trying to find something for me to wear for the party the next evening. After much fussing, they settled on a deep blue velvet dress—Dalbretch blue—with a silver sash. “We'll put together the other accessories,” Vilah said. “Unless you'd prefer to?”

I left it to them to figure out as Vilah suggested. I liked a beautiful gown as well as anyone, but it was probably obvious to all of them that I didn't fuss over the particulars of fashion.

“Do you mind if I ask—” Adeline blushed. “Never mind,” she said, shaking away her question.

“Please,” I said. “Speak freely.”

“It seems that you and King Jaxon have genuine feelings for each other, and it just made me wonder…”

“Why did you run from the wedding?” Vilah finished for her.

“They claim it was a deliberate snub planned by Morrighan all along,” Adeline added.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. “That is just bruised egos speaking,” I answered, “and a court full of men who couldn't believe a girl could derail all their plans. The Morrighese cabinet was just as angry as Dalbreck's. My departure wasn't nearly as dramatic as a conspiracy. I simply left of my own accord because I was afraid.”

Adeline twisted the silver sash in her hand. “Afraid of the prince?”

“No,” I sighed. “The prince was probably the least of it. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of the sham and the gift I thought I lacked. I was afraid of all the lost choices I would never be able to make, and that for the rest of my life someone would always be telling me what to do or say or think, even when I had better ideas of my own. I was afraid of never being anything but what suited others and being pushed and prodded until I fit the mold they shoved me into and I forgot who I was and what I wanted. And maybe most of all, I was afraid I would never be loved beyond what a piece of paper had ordered. That's enough fear to make any girl jump on a horse and ride away, princess or not, don't you think?”

They stared at me, and I saw the understanding in their eyes. Madam Rathbone nodded. “Enough and then some.”

*   *   *

I walked, trying to ignore the rattle of the belts and weapons of the guard escort trailing behind me. They reverberated like an entire marching army in the midst of the peaceful marketplace of wagons, but the king's orders were to be followed to the letter, six guards and not one less. I stopped to check on Dihara first, then went in search of Natiya.

Like Dihara, Natiya had been orphaned when she was a baby. Her parents' wagon had lost a wheel and tumbled down a mountainside. By some miracle Natiya had been spared, and together the tribe had raised her. Dihara, Reena, they had all been her mothers.

I found her down at the river's edge, alone, staring at the calm rippling waters, supervising a bevy of fishing lines thrown into the water. The guards hung back, and I sat down beside her, but her focus on the river remained constant, as if it flowed with dreams and memories.

“They told me you were here,” she said, still staring straight ahead.

“Thanks to you,” I answered. With a single finger, I gently turned her chin so she had to look at me. Her large brown eyes glistened.

“I frightened a man twice my size with that little knife. He had hurt a small child, and I threatened to cut off his nose. You took a stand, Natiya. It helped me to take one too.”

She looked back at the river. “My stand didn't go well.”

“Neither did mine. That will never stop me from taking them. Once we fear to take a stand, tyranny will have won.”

“Then why do I feel that we've lost everything?”

I pulled in a slow, shaky breath, feeling the price she had paid. “There are more battles to be fought, Natiya. This isn't the end.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “It is for Dihara.”

A sickening twinge wrenched my chest. This was Natiya's reality—and mine. Were any losses worth the gains? I struggled with the same doubts I saw in her eyes. Dihara had sent me here to speak to her, but really, what did I have to offer? I was still trying to find my own way.

“Once, when I was feeling despair over bad fortune, Dihara told me we're all part of a greater story—one that transcends even our own tears. You're part of that greater story now too, Natiya. You listened to the truth speaking within you. It may not seem like it right now, but you're stronger today than you were yesterday. Tomorrow, you'll be even stronger.”

She turned to look at me, the same defiance in her face as the day I'd left her in the vagabond camp. “I want to go with you,” she said.

My stomach gripped. I wasn't prepared for this. I saw the hunger in her eyes, but I also saw Aster. It filled me with fear and renewed grief. I wouldn't let this part of the story be hers.

“Not yet, Natiya. You're too young—”

“I'm thirteen now! And a woman—the same as you!”

My blood rushed and my thoughts tumbled like a thousand tiny stones in a swollen river. “
Cha liev oan barrie
,” I said. “Your time will come. I promise. For now, your family still needs you. Be strong for them.”

She stared at me and finally nodded, but I was certain she remained unconvinced, and my own shortcomings seemed evident again.

A fishing line tugged, and she jumped up, giving it a sharp jerk to snag the hook deep in the fish's mouth.

*   *   *

I sat on the watchtower wall looking out at the rolling plain. An orange ball of fire settled into the earth, the rippling line of the horizon slowly swallowing it up as if it were nothing, as if all the sun's timeless power were merely warm frosted confection. Gone in a single bite.

All that was left in its wake was an orange glow that lit the edges of spiked ruins in the distance. Rafe said legend claimed the ruins were what remained of a great stronghold that once held all the wealth of the Ancients. Now the works of the demigods were little more than scars on a landscape—reminders that even the great, with all their wealth and knowledge, can fall.

Somewhere beyond all that, on an unseeable horizon, was Morrighan and all the people who lived there, going about their lives, unaware. My brothers. Pauline. Berdi. Gwyneth. And more patrols like Walther's who would meet their deaths, as unaware as I had once been.

I want to go with you.

Where I was going was no place for Natiya. It was hardly a place for me.

 

CHAPTE
R
TWE
N
TY-
N
I
N
E

RAFE

“May I have a turn?”

I wiped the sweat dripping from my face with my sleeve. I knew a crowd was watching my sparring exercises with other soldiers, but I hadn't known Lia was among them. I turned, following the sound of her voice. She hopped down from the paddock rail and walked toward me. I waved off the soldier who was poised to spar with me next.

I had seen her use a sword in our escape from the Sanctum, but that was in surprise attacks, and I didn't know how well she really knew how to spar. It wouldn't hurt for her to expand her skills.