The Beauty of Darkness (29 page)

And that was it. We said our good-byes, and they left. Now, as Rafe had so ardently pointed out before we parted, my death would be on my own kingdom, not his.

Some last words should never be said.

 

CHAPTE
R
FORTY-TWO

Kaden stopped his horse. “Maybe I should hang back?”

I looked at him, confused. We had come into Terravin on a back trail and were on the upper road that led to Berdi's inn. Since Terravin was on the way to Civica, we had decided it would be our first stop. It would give us a place to clean up and properly wash our clothes, which reeked of smoke, sweat, and weeks on the trail. A distant whiff of us alone could attract attention, and that was something we didn't need. More important, I owed Pauline and the others a visit so they could have some assurance after all these months that I was all right. They might have news to share too that could be useful—especially Gwyneth, with her questionable cadre of contacts.

“Why hang back now?” I asked. “We're nearly there.”

Kaden shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “So you can let Pauline know I'm with you. You know, prepare her.”

For the first time, I thought I glimpsed fear in Kaden's face. I drew my horse closer. “Are you
afraid
of Pauline?”

He frowned. “Yes.”

I sat there stunned. I wasn't sure what to say to this admission.

“Lia, she knows I'm Vendan now, and the very last words I said to her threatened her life—and yours. She's not going to forget that.”

“Kaden, you threatened Rafe's life too. That didn't make you afraid of him.”

He looked away. “That was different. I never liked Rafe, and he never liked me. Pauline's an innocent who—” He stopped short, shaking his head.

An innocent who had once thought highly of him. I had seen the kindnesses exchanged between them, and their easy conversation. Perhaps seeing her one-time regard for him plummet into hate was a last straw he couldn't bear. He had already experienced that with Natiya, who while civil now, was still cool toward him. She would never forget the Vendan attack on her camp, nor that he was one of
them.
It seemed Kaden was in much the same position as me—there were only a handful of people on the entire continent who didn't want to see him dead. I remembered the terror in Pauline's eyes when Kaden dragged us into the scrub, and then her pleas for him to let us go. No, she wouldn't forget, but I prayed she hadn't nursed the terror of that day into hatred during all these long months.

Kaden took a drink from his canteen, draining the last sip. “I just don't want to risk creating a scene inside the tavern when she sees me,” he added.

It was more than worry over a disturbance, and we both knew it. It was strange to see him rattled by a simple encounter with someone as harmless as Pauline.

“We'll go in through the kitchen door,” I said to appease him. “Pauline is reasonable. She'll be fine once I explain. In the meantime, I'll keep myself between you, her, and the kitchen knives.” I added the last part as a jest to lighten his mood, but he didn't smile.

Natiya spurred her horse forward beside mine. “What about me?” she asked. “Shall I help you protect the trembling Assassin?” She said it loud enough for Kaden to hear, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Kaden shot her a warning look to be careful how far she pushed him.

My heart fluttered with anticipation as we got closer, but as soon as the tavern came into view, I knew something was wrong. Fear jumped between the three of us like fire. Even Natiya sensed something was amiss, though she'd never been here before.

“What is it?” she asked.

It was empty. Silent.

There were no horses tethered at posts. No laughter or conversation came from the dining room. There were no tavern guests, and it was the dinner hour. The sickening pall of quiet held the inn like a shroud.

I jumped from my horse and ran up the front steps. Kaden was right behind me, telling me to stop, yelling something about caution. I flung open the door, only to find chairs stacked on tables.

“Pauline!” I yelled. “Berdi! Gwyneth!” I traversed the dining room in leaps and pushed open the kitchen door, sending it slamming against the wall.

I froze. Enzo stood behind the chopping block, a cleaver in hand, his mouth gaping as wide as the fish he was about to behead.

“What's going on?” I asked. “Where is everyone?”

Enzo blinked, then took a harder look at me. “What are you doing here?”

Kaden drew his knife. “Set it down, Enzo.”

Enzo looked down at the cleaver still poised in his fist, first surprised and then horrified to see it there. He dropped it, sending it clattering to the butcher block.

“Where is everyone?” I asked again, this time with threat.

“Gone,” he answered, and with shaking hands, he waved Kaden and me to the kitchen table to explain. “Please,” he added when we didn't move. We pulled out chairs and sat. Kaden kept his knife drawn, but by the time Enzo was done explaining, I rested my head in my hands, and could only stare at the scarred wooden table where I had eaten so many meals with Pauline. She had left weeks ago to try to help me. All of them had. I couldn't hold back the groan swelling in my throat. They were in the heart of Civica. Dread gripped me.

Kaden put his hand on my back. “She's with Gwyneth. That's something.”

“And Berdi,” Enzo added. But both of their reminders seemed only to confirm our fears. Pauline was trusting—and a wanted criminal just like me. She could already be in custody. Or worse.

“We have to go to them,” I said. “Tomorrow.” There would be no resting up.

“They'll be all right,” Enzo said. “Berdi promised me.”

I looked up at Enzo, hardly recognizing him as the shiftless boy who could barely be relied upon to show up for work at all. His expression was earnest, one I had never seen on him before.

“And Berdi left
you
to run the inn?”

He looked down, brushing an oily strand of hair from his face. I hadn't tried to disguise my suspicion. Pink colored his temples. “I know what you're thinking, and I don't blame you. But that's what Berdi did, left me in charge, keys and everything.” He rattled the ring of keys hanging from his belt, and I saw something akin to pride in his eyes. “Really. She said it was long past time for me to step up.” He suddenly startled, twisting his apron in his hands. “That other fellow could have killed me. He nearly did. He heard me and—”

He swallowed, and the large apple of his skinny throat bobbed. He stared at my neck. “I'm sorry. It was me who told that bounty hunter about you walking on the upper road. I knew he was up to no good, but all I could see was that handful of coin in his palm.”

Kaden sat forward in his chair. “You?”

I nudged Kaden back in his seat. “The other fellow?” I asked.

“That farmer who was staying here. He cornered me and threatened to cut out my tongue if I ever said your name to anyone again. Said he'd stuff it down my throat along with the coin. I thought for sure he was going to. I thought about how close I'd come to—” He swallowed again.

“I knew I was running out of chances. Last thing Berdi said to me before she left was that she saw something good in me, and it was time I find it too. I'm trying to do better.” He rubbed the side of his face, his hand still shaking. “I'm not doing all this half as good as Berdi, course. All I can manage is to keep rooms clean for the boarders, make a pot of parritch in the morning and a pot of stew at night.” He pointed to the wall at the far end of the kitchen. “She left me directions. For everything.” There were at least a dozen pieces of paper tacked to the wall scribbled with Berdi's handwriting. “I can't serve dinner for a whole dining room yet. But maybe if I hire some help.”

Natiya came into the kitchen, her sword strapped to her side, a dagger in her hand, a new swagger to her stride. She leaned back against the wall. Enzo glanced at her but said nothing. We had come full circle, and I saw the worry in his eyes. He knew we saw him as a possible threat.

“So you know who I really am?” I asked.

For the briefest moment, I saw denial rush through his eyes, but he shrugged it off and nodded. “Berdi didn't tell me, but I heard about the princess being wanted.”

“And just what did you hear?” Kaden asked.

“Any citizen can kill her on sight and collect a reward. No questions asked.”

Kaden hissed and pushed away from the table.

“But I won't tell anyone!” Enzo quickly added. “I promise. I've known for a long time and had plenty of chances to tell the magistrate. He's come around twice, wondering what happened to Gwyneth, but I've never said a word.”

Kaden stood and ran his finger along the flat side of his knife blade, turning it to catch the lantern light, then squinted at Enzo. “Even if the magistrate offers you a fistful of coin?”

Enzo stared at the blade. His upper lip beaded with sweat and his hands still trembled, but his chin jutted upward in uncharacteristic courage. “He already did. Didn't change my answer. I told him I didn't know where Gwyneth went.”

“Lia? A moment?” Kaden nodded toward the dining room. We left Natiya to guard Enzo.

“I don't trust him,” Kaden whispered. “He's a greasy little weasel who traded coin for you once. He'll do it again the minute we leave if we don't quiet him.”

“You mean kill him?”

He answered me with a steady stare.

I shook my head. “He didn't have to tell us he was the one who informed the bounty hunter. People can change.”

“Nobody changes that fast, and he's the only one in Morrighan who knows we're here. We want to keep it that way.”

I walked in circles, trying to think it through. Enzo was a risk, no doubt, with a proven record of unreliability, if not greed. But Berdi had trusted him with her whole life's work. And people could change. I had. So had Kaden.

And for the gods' sakes, Enzo was making stew.
Stew.
And there wasn't a single dirty dish in the sink waiting to be washed. I turned to face Kaden. “Berdi trusts Enzo. I think we should too. And he still seems shaken by the farmer's threats. If you have to brandish your knife a few times as a reminder, so be it.”

He stared at me, still unconvinced, and finally let out a long sigh. “I'll do more than brandish it if he so much as looks at any of us sideways.”

We went back in the kitchen, and made sleeping arrangements. Natiya and I washed out clothing and hung it to dry in the kitchen near the fire, since time was short. We scoured the cottage I had shared with Pauline for more concealing clothing, turning up two loose work shifts and some shawls. I also spotted Pauline's white mourning scarf. Natiya wouldn't have to hide her face while in Morrighan, but I would, and nothing could turn away suspicion faster than respect for a widow. Kaden took care of the horses and then we all raided Berdi's pantry, finding food to pack. From here on out, there would be no more campfires for cooking. As Enzo helped us pack our bags with food, I was surprised to hear braying.

“That's Otto,” he said shaking his head. “He misses the other two.”

“Otto's still here?” I grabbed the widow's scarf and threw it over my head in case any of the boarders were about and ran out the door to the paddock.

I fawned over Otto, scratching his ears and listening to his complaints, each haw and whinny sounding like a note of music. It took me back to the day Pauline and I had arrived in Terravin, riding our donkeys down the main street thinking our new life here would last forever. Otto nudged me with his soft muzzle, and I thought about how lonely he must be without his companions.

“I know,” I said softly. “Nove and Dieci will come back soon. I promise.” But I knew my promise was empty, born only of convenience and—

Rafe's words dragged through me again, a tangled line pulling me under to a place where I couldn't breathe.
I said what I thought you needed to hear at the time. I was trying to give you hope.

I turned away from Otto, my bitterness surging. Rafe had given me false hope and wasted my time. I walked inside the barn and stared at the ladder to the loft, then finally climbed it. The loft was dim, a few stray beams of light slipping through the rafters. Two mattresses still lay on the floor, never stored after our hasty departure. A forgotten shirt hung from the back of a chair. A dusty carafe was perched on a table in the corner. At the far end were stacks of crates—and an empty manger. My heart hammered as I walked toward it.
Don't look, Lia. Leave it alone. You don't care.
But I couldn't stop myself.

I inched the manger forward so I could see behind it. It was there, just as he had told me, a pile of soiled white cloth. My tongue bloomed thick and salty, and the room grew suddenly stuffy, making it hard to breathe. I reached down and lifted it from its hiding place. Bits of straw rained to the floor. It was torn in several places, and the hem was stained with mud. Brick-red blood smeared the fabric. His blood. That was where he'd gotten the nicks on his hands, ripping it loose from the thorny brambles where I had thrown it.
The dress made me wonder about the girl who had worn it.
The same dress I had torn so hatefully from my back and tossed away. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor. I held the dress to my face, trying to block Rafe out, but all I could see was him tearing it from the brambles, stuffing it in his bag, wondering about me the way I had wondered about him. But I had wondered all the wrong things.

I had imagined him only as a gutless papa's boy. Not as—

“Lia? Are you all right?”

I looked up. Kaden was standing at the top of the ladder.

I scrambled to my feet and threw the dress behind the manger again. “Yes, I'm fine,” I answered, keeping my back to him.