The Beauty of Darkness (36 page)

The cottage and the mill that sat across from it on the other side of the pond were abandoned decades ago for a deeper, larger pond farther east of Civica. Only bullfrogs, dragonflies, and raccoons visited here now—and occasionally young princes and a princess fleeing the scrutiny of court. Our names were carved in the wide door frame, along with those of dozens of other village children—at least those brave enough to venture here. It was said to be haunted by the Ancients. Bryn and I may have had something to do with that rumor. I suppose we wanted it all to ourselves. Even my father's name was carved here. Branson. I ran my fingers over the rough letters. It was hard to imagine that he'd ever been a carefree child running through the woods, and I wondered at the way we all change, all the outside forces that press and mold and push us into people and things we hadn't planned to be. Maybe it happened so gradually that by the time we noticed, it was too late to be anything else.

Like the Komizar. Reginaus. A boy and name snuffed out of existence.

I fingered my name in the wood, the lines crooked, but deep.
LIA.
I took my knife out and squeezed in four more letters in front of it.
JEZE.
And I wondered at who I had become—someone I had never planned to be.

Pauline's name wasn't carved in the wood, and as far as I knew, she had never been here. By the time she arrived in Civica, the cottage had lost some of its magic for me and my brothers and we rarely came anymore. Besides, such wanderings were off limits, and Pauline followed the protocol of the queen's court to the letter—well, almost to the letter, until she met Mikael.

Where was she? Had Natiya misunderstood, or spoken to the wrong person? Maybe the rain had delayed her? But it was only a light rain, and we were used to that in Civica.

Today when I returned to my room, my mind had still been reeling with my late-night revelation. The Viceregent had seemed our best possibility of someone to trust in the cabinet. I had tried to test for his truthfulness, and everything he had said seemed genuine—even his claim about deep regrets. Was it possible he had changed in the eleven years since he threw Kaden out? Eleven years was a long time. I had changed in far less. So had Kaden. The Viceregent was already in a high position of power, second in command to my father. What more would he have to gain?

I was so occupied with these thoughts that Natiya had had to grab my arms and shake them, then repeat her news. She claimed she'd found Pauline. She said Pauline's head was bowed and covered so she couldn't see her hair, but she knew a pregnant belly when she saw one, and Natiya had chased after her just outside the cemetery gate. When she was close enough, Natiya called her name. Pauline seemed fearful, but she agreed to come.

I prayed she wasn't afraid of
me.
Surely she couldn't believe the lies. Or maybe she was only being cautious. She didn't know Natiya, and perhaps she suspected a trap. But she knew the millpond had once been a favorite haunt of mine. A stranger wouldn't have suggested it.

Maybe Berdi and Gwyneth had delayed her. Gwyneth was suspicious of everything, and here in Civica, rightly so. I should take that as a good sign.

But still my anxiety grew.

I paced the cottage and finally pulled out a chair and sat staring at the cottage door, my hands kneading my thighs. Bit by bit, I was losing everything. If I lost Pauline too, I wasn't sure what I would do. What if she—

The handle rattled and the door eased open cautiously, its creak the only sound. As a quick afterthought, I put my hand on my dagger, but then Pauline stepped in, her hair dripping in wet strands, her flushed cheeks shimmering with rain. Our gazes met, and her eyes told me what I had feared. She knew. There was a condemning sharpness in them I had never seen before. My stomach floated even as my heart sank.

“You should have told me, Lia,” she said. “You should have told me! I could have dealt with it. You didn't even give me a chance.”

I nodded, words stuck in my throat. She was right. “I was afraid, Pauline. I thought I could bury the truth and make it go away. I was wrong.”

She stepped toward me, hesitant at first, then earnest, throwing her arms around me, a fierceness in her grip. Angry. Her fists curling into my clothes, demanding, shaking, and then she leaned into me, sobbing. “You're alive,” she cried into my shoulder. “You're alive.” My chest shook, and I cried with her, the months and lies between us vanishing. She told me how frightened she'd been, the agony of waiting with no word, and the relief she felt when she saw me impersonating the queen. She, Berdi, and Gwyneth had been discreetly looking for me since then. “I love you, Lia. You are my sister, by the gods, a sister as true as blood. I knew what they said about you were lies.”

I wasn't sure who held up whom, each of us heavy in the other's arms, our cheeks wet against each other. “My brothers?”

“Bryn and Regan are well, but worried about you.”

Now it was my fists that curled into her clothes, and I choked back tears as she told me they hadn't stopped believing in me either. They had asked a lot of questions trying to get at the truth and promised that as soon as they returned, they would find it. She said Berdi and Gwyneth were here with her and she told me where they were staying. I understood now why Natiya hadn't been able to find them. It was a small tavern down an alley that let rooms above the shop. I remembered it. There was no sign. You had to know it was there. No doubt Gwyneth had found that one.

I finally stepped back and wiped my cheeks, surveying her girth. “And you're well?”

She nodded, rubbing her hand over her belly. “I spotted Mikael weeks ago, but I only had the courage to confront him recently.” A bittersweet smile creased her eyes, and we sat down at the table. She talked about him, recalling her dreams for their future that she thought had been his dreams too, all the times they held hands and talked, and planned, and kissed. She went over memories and details as if they were flower petals she was plucking one at a time and then letting them go in the wind. I listened, feeling a part of me break.

“He'll never be this child's father,” she finally said. She told me with calm resignation about the girls on his arm, his denial, and all the doubts she'd carefully tucked away that came to life before her eyes when they spoke. “I knew what he was like when I met him. I thought I was that one girl special enough to change him. I was a happy fool living in a fantasy. I'm not that girl anymore.”

I saw the change in her. She was different. Sober. The dreams she'd had were swept from her eyes. I saw all the reasons I had lied to her, thinking if her fantasy stayed alive, maybe mine could too.

“You were never a fool, Pauline. Your dreams gave flight to my own.”

She pressed her hand to her back as if trying to counter the weight of the baby pulling against her spine. “I have different aspirations now.”

“We all do,” I answered, feeling the tug of lost dreams.

She frowned. “You mean Rafe.”

I nodded.

“He showed up at Berdi's inn looking for you. When I told him about Kaden, he started giving orders, saying more men would come to help, and they did, but none of them ever returned. At first I feared something had happened to them, but then I wondered if he had deceived us just like Kaden. Berdi guessed that Rafe wasn't really a farmer, which only fueled my worries that he couldn't be trusted—”

“Berdi was right. Rafe wasn't a farmer,” I said. “He was a soldier—and also Prince Jaxon of Dalbreck—the betrothed I left at the altar.”

She looked at me like I had lost my mind back in Venda.

“But he's no longer a prince,” I added. “Now he's the king of Dalbreck.”

“Prince? King? None of this makes sense.”

“I know,” I said. “It doesn't. Let me start at the beginning.”

I tried to tell her everything in the order that it had happened, but very quickly she interrupted. “Kaden put a hood over your head? Then dragged you across the entire Cam Lanteux?” I saw the hatred in her eyes that Kaden had feared she would harbor.

“Yes, he did, but—”

“I don't understand how he could share a holy feast with us at Berdi's table in one moment and threaten to kill us both in the next? How could he—”

We both froze. We heard the whicker of a horse. I put my finger to my lips. “Did you ride here?” I whispered.

She shook her head. Neither did I. It was a short walk, and it was easier to slip through the woods unseen on foot.

“Could someone have followed you?”

Her eyes widened, and I was shocked to see her draw a knife. She had never carried one before. I drew mine as well.

Heavy footsteps scraped on the stone steps outside the door. Pauline and I both stood and then the door opened.

 

CHAPTE
R
FIFTY-TWO

KADEN

I saw the blade before I saw her. It flashed past me, slicing my shoulder just as I slammed her up against the wall.

And then I saw that it was Pauline.

Lia was yelling at both of us. “Drop the knife, Pauline! Drop it! Kaden! Let her go!”

The knife was still firm in her grip, her hand straining against mine. “Stop!” I yelled.

She seethed. “Not this time, barbarian!”

I felt the sting where the blade had cut me and the warmth of blood spreading across my shoulder. “What's the matter with you? You could have killed me!”

Her eyes held no apology, only hatred that I didn't think it was possible for Pauline to possess.

“Stop!” Lia said firmly, and she pulled the knife from Pauline's hand. She nodded for me to let Pauline go. I took a chance and released her, moving out of her reach, waiting for her to come at me again. Lia stepped between us.

“I told him to come, Pauline,” she said. “He's here to help. We can trust him.”

But Pauline was incensed and still not listening. “You lied to us! We treated you with nothing but kindness and then—”

Lia continued to try to explain and calm Pauline down.

I stood there, not knowing what to say, because every word she flung at me was true—true as Pauline always was. I had traded on her kindness and trust.

“He's changed, Pauline! You have to stop and listen to me!”

She stared at me, her eyes like glass, her chest heaving, and then suddenly she doubled over, clutching her stomach. Lia grabbed Pauline's arm to steady her. Water seeped to the floor around her feet. Pauline groaned and then was clutched with a stronger spasm. I ran to her other side, and Lia and I both kept her from falling. Even in her pain, she tried to wrench free of me.

“The bed!” Lia yelled.

I scooped Pauline into my arms and carried her to the bare wood frame in the corner. “Get the bedroll from my horse!”

Lia ran out the door, and Pauline ordered me to put her down.

“I will,” I said. “Believe me, nothing will give me greater pleasure, as soon as Lia returns.”

Lia was back in seconds, shaking out the roll, and I laid Pauline on top of it.

“It can't be time,” Lia said to Pauline. “You still have a month to go.”

Pauline shook her head. “It's time.”

Lia stared at Pauline's swollen belly, not trying to hide her alarm. “I don't know anything about this. I've never—” Her gaze shot to me. “Do you—”

“No!” I said, shaking my head. “Not me. I've never done it either. I've seen horses—”

“I am not a horse!” Pauline screamed. She leaned forward in another spasm. “Berdi,” she groaned. “Go get Berdi.”

I started for the door. “Tell me where—”

“No,” Lia said, cutting me off. “Berdi would never come with you, and I can find her faster. Stay here.”

Pauline and I both protested.

“There's no other choice!” Lia snapped. “Stay! Keep her comfortable! I'll be right back!”

She left, slamming the door behind her.

I stared at the door, not wanting to turn and face Pauline. Babies took hours, I told myself. Sometimes days. It wasn't more than a twenty-minute walk into town. Lia would be back within the hour. I listened to the rain, coming down louder and harder.

Pauline moaned again, and I reluctantly turned. “Do you need something?”

“Not from you!”

An hour passed, and I alternated between silently cursing Lia and worrying about what had happened to her.
Where was she?
Pauline's pains were becoming stronger and more frequent. She swatted my hand away when I tried to wipe her brow with a cool cloth.

Between pains, she leveled a scrutinizing stare at me. “Last time I saw you, Lia was ordering you to go straight to hell. What dark magic did you weave to make her trust you now?”

I looked at her glistening face, damp strands of her blond hair clinging to her cheek, a loss in her eyes I had never seen before. “People change, Pauline.”

Her lip pulled up in disgust, and she looked away. “No. They don't.” Her voice wobbled, full of unexpected sorrow instead of anger.

“You've changed,” I said.

She glared at me, her hands passing over her belly. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“I meant in other ways—most notably the knife you were flashing in my face.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Betrayal tends to familiarize one with weapons.”

I nodded.
Yes
, I thought.
Sadly, it does.

“It looks like someone's taken a weapon to your head too,” she said.

I reached behind, feeling the crusted gash on my scalp. “It would seem so,” I answered. I had passed out and slept for two straight days on the trail after vomiting up half my insides. The throbbing had eased, but it was probably what had dimmed my judgment enough to walk into an unknown cottage without my own weapon drawn. Perhaps that was a good thing, or Pauline might be lying dead on the floor now.