The Beauty of Darkness (43 page)

He glanced at my hand. “We can wait and regroup, or move forward now. It's your decision.”

I surveyed his soldiers in the room. “How many do you have?”

“A hundred, but they're—”

“I know,” I said. “They're the best.”

There were only hours left before the last session of the conclave ended and the lords dispersed back to their homes. Now was my last chance to speak to them all. Minutes counted.

“My brothers are headed into an ambush. My father's dying. And the Komizar is on his way. There's no more time to wait.”

“The Komizar? The bridge is fixed?”

I nodded.

He lifted my chin, turning my face toward the window. “You're pale. How much of this blood is yours?”

Most of it, but I heard a perilous edge to his voice and decided against the truth. “Most is Malich's. He got the worst of it. He's dead.”

“Then you're able to carry a weapon?”

“Yes,” I said, sheathing a sword Kaden handed me, feeling like my movements had already become their movements.

The others had finished their preparations and gathered behind Rafe, waiting for my answer too. Six of Rafe's men, including Jeb, were now outfitted as citadelle guards. The rest of them wore the plain rough-spun cloaks favored by the local farmers and merchants, all in different shades and styles so as not to draw attention. Tavish and Orrin wore similar garb, as did Sven. Pauline and Gwyneth were belted with weapons and had donned cloaks too.

This was it, I thought, and terror rose in my throat.

“She stays,” I said pointing to Natiya.

She flew forward, enraged.

Kaden grabbed her from behind pinning her to his chest. “Listen to her, Natiya,” he said. “
Listen.
Don't make her look over her shoulder with worry for you. She will. We all have our weaknesses, and you will be hers. Please. Your day will come.”

Her eyes puddled with tears, and her gaze locked on mine. “Today is my day.” Her voice wobbled with anger. She understood little of the workings of the court, nor who had betrayed whom. She knew only that she wanted justice, but even today could not give her back what she had lost.

“No,” I said, “not today. I see many tomorrows for you, Natiya, days I will need you at my side, but this is not one of them. Please, go back to the abbey and wait with Berdi.”

Her lip trembled. She was thirteen years old and ready to fight the world, but she saw I wouldn't be moved and angrily turned away, leaving for the abbey.

I looked back at Rafe.

He nodded. “Let's go get some traitors.”

*   *   *

We circled behind the outbuilding, walking through the village, Rafe on one side of me, Kaden on the other. A wagon trudged alongside us, a wheelbarrow pushed a little farther ahead, and still more followed behind with burlap sacks slung over shoulders, their supposed wares spilling over the top. Our boots tapped an uneven beat on the cobblestones; the wagon wheels creaked and bumped; our cloaks flapped in the wind, every noise sounding like a herald announcing our approach and yet somehow we blended in with citizens going about their business.

As we walked, more fell into step with us, waiting and ready, looking like merchants headed for the marketplace, and I wondered how Rafe had been able to assemble such a squad—not just soldiers but performers as well, perceiving the smallest of cues. He had said they numbered a hundred strong. I thought about what the six of us had been able to do in Venda, but then we had been running away from the enemy, not trying to settle into their dark den. How long could a hundred soldiers hold off the Morrighese army? There were at least two thousand troops stationed at Piers Camp, only a short distance away.

My heart pounded. This was no childhood rebellion. This was a coup, and in the eyes of Morrighese law, the most unforgivable crime. I had received an extensive lecture on it when I was fourteen. Back then, my punishment had been banishment to my chamber for a month. Today if we failed, the rebellion would be grounds for a mass hanging of epic proportions. I tried not to think of the shortcomings of our small army—only what was at stake. Everything.

The front of the citadelle was in sight, and for the first time, Rafe's steps faltered. “I can't promise that Morrighese soldiers won't die.”

I nodded. I had told Rafe and his men that I wanted as little blood spilled as possible. While there were Vendans among the citadelle guards, some of them were still Morrighese and surely believed they were only following orders.

He still didn't move forward, a scowl pulling between his brows. “You don't have to go in, Lia. We can go first, and once the hall is secure, we can send for you.” He and Kaden exchanged a glance. A knowing glance.

“If either of you try to stop me, you will die. Do you understand?”

“You're injured, Lia,” Kaden said.

“One hand is injured,” I answered. “My strengths are not your strengths.”

We reached the plaza, and the men disguised as citadelle guards walked up the steps to the string of guards stationed at the entrance. Jeb, his Morrighese pitch-perfect, told them his squad was there to relieve them. The center guard looked confused, not recognizing Jeb or the others, and balked, but it was too late for them to act. Rafe's men were quick and assured and their short swords cut the air with a single united
shing
, just as quickly pressing them to the guards' chests. They pushed them back into the dark recess of the portal, taking their weapons while the rest of us flooded up the steps, shedding cloaks and unfurling more weapons from wagons and sacks.

Taking the next line of guards wasn't as bloodless. They spotted us from the end of the passageway. Two of them moved to close the heavy hallway doors while the rest charged shoulder to shoulder toward us bearing halberds that far outreached our swords. Rafe's archers stepped forward, shouting a warning order to stop. They didn't, and multiple arrows flew beneath the guard's shields and into their legs. When they stumbled, they were overtaken, and we charged the doors before the other guards were able to bar it. As one of them began to shout a warning, Sven knocked him unconscious.

The last two guards, posted outside the closed doors to Aldrid Hall, were ceremonial at best. Their purpose was to turn away uninvited visitors, not defend against attackers. Their hair was silver, their stomachs paunchy, and their armor consisted only of a leather helmet and breastplate. They drew their swords uncertainly.

I stepped forward, and they recognized me.

“Your Highness—” The guard caught himself, unsure what to call me.

“Lay down your weapons and step aside,” I ordered. “We don't want to hurt you, but we will. The kingdom and my brothers' lives are at stake.”

Their eyes bulged with fear, but they stood their ground. “We have our orders.”

“As do I,” I answered. “Move. Now. Every second you delay puts lives at risk.”

They didn't budge.

I looked at the archers who stood to my right. “Shoot them,” I commanded.

When the guards shifted their attention to the archers, Rafe and Kaden moved in from the left, striking the swords from their grasps and slamming both men against the wall.

Before the doors were opened, we implemented the last of our plans. Other than myself, only Pauline knew the layout of the citadelle, and I sent her off with precise instructions about what she was to bring back to me. Jeb and Captain Azia went with her. “The guard posted at the door is Vendan,” I said. “You may have to kill him.”

Kaden left with two of the soldiers dressed as citadelle guards. His quest was more uncertain, though I told him exactly what to look for. Gwyneth was sent in yet another direction with the rest of the soldiers dressed as guards. With the whole cabinet convened in Aldrid Hall, I prayed the passageways would be mostly empty.

My head pounded with the sound of their receding footsteps, a lifetime of voices awakening within me.

          
Hold your tongue, Arabella!

     
Quiet!

This matter is finished!

               
Go to your chamber!

Rafe and Tavish looked at me waiting for the signal that I was ready.

Other voices sounded in my head.

     
Don't tarry, Miz.

Trust the strength within you.

          
Nurse the rage. Use it.

That was easy to do. I drew my sword and nodded. The doors were opened, and I went in with Rafe on one side, Tavish on the other, Orrin and his best archers flanking us, Sven leading the lines of shield bearers before us, and more soldiers pulling up the rear, soldiers willing to lay their lives down for another kingdom and an uncertain cause.

 

CHAPTE
R
SIXTY-FOUR

RAFE

Up until this point, everything had been planned with precision. From here forward, Sven said it was another half-assed plan, but he also noted that he was becoming more comfortable with military strategies that were half-assed. Tavish had snorted at the word
strategy.
As we stormed the hall, we had skill and surprise on our side, and little else. What the next minutes and hours would bring were uncertain, but I knew we were running out of time. I knew it the minute Lia had walked into the armory. There was already a war going on—the traitors against Lia—and right now it looked like the traitors were winning.

Tavish muttered under his breath as we rushed in, eyeing the long upper gallery and balcony that overlooked the hall. Lia had said it was accessible only from the royal wing, but if archers flooded it before we could secure it, we would be like fish in a barrel waiting to be speared one at a time. We guarded Lia's back and one another's. Lords and ministers gasped, too startled to grasp what was happening, as my men filled out the perimeter. Guards posted at the dais stayed their hands when our archers targeted them in their sights. Tavish and I kept close to Lia, our shields raised, watching, turning, scanning the room. Orrin flanked us with his men, their arrows already aimed at the two towers ready to return attacks.

Lia stopped in the center of the room and yelled that no one should move, promising they wouldn't be hurt. She lied. There would be blood spilled. I saw it in her eyes, her face, her lips, the hungry rage. I thought it might be all that kept her standing. Her eyes were circled with shadows, her lips pale. I knew she had lied to me back at the armory. She'd lost a lot of blood. But I also understood the rush of battle and the surge of strength that kept dead men on their feet. Along with her desperate fury, it kept her going now.

I ordered the doors barred and the guards relieved of their weapons.

A lord who had been addressing the cabinet remained frozen on the large semicircular step at the front of the hall, unable to speak or move. I motioned to him with my sword. “Sit down.”

He scrambled back to his seat, and Lia walked up the steps, taking his place.

Her scrutiny passed over the cabinet, and she addressed each one, nodding her head as if in greeting, but I saw the fear in their eyes. They knew it was no greeting. Every one of them saw the thin line she walked, and the multiple weapons strapped to her side.

The Chancellor jumped to his feet. “This is preposterous!”

An echo of agreement rumbled around him, chairs scraping back as if to escort the insolent princess to her chamber.

Before I could say anything, Lia threw her dagger. “I told you not to move!” she yelled. The blade nicked the Chancellor's sleeve and lodged in a carved wooden wall behind him.

A hush returned to the hall. The Chancellor held his arm, blood seeping between his fingers. His head shook with rage, but he returned to his seat.

“That's better,” she said. “I don't want you dead
yet
, Lord Chancellor. You'll hear me out first.”

He may have sat, but he wasn't silenced. “So you throw knives to muzzle the cabinet and have a ragtag collection of sword-wielding rebels whom you've compelled to follow you,” he said. “What are you going to do? Hold off the entire Morrighese army?”

I stepped forward. “As a matter of fact, yes, we are.”

The Chancellor skimmed the length of me, taking in my rough-spun clothes. His lip lifted in disgust. “And you would be?”

For someone in his precarious position, he showed no signs of backing down. His arrogance made mine blaze.

“I would be the king of Dalbreck,” I answered. “And I can assure you, my ragtag collection can hold off your army for an amazingly extended period of time—at least long enough to see you dead.”

The Watch Captain snickered. “Fool! We've met the king of Dalbreck, and you are not him!”

I closed the space between us and reached across the table, grabbing him by the front of his tunic. I jerked him to his feet. “Are you willing to bet your life on that, Captain? Because even though you've never seen me, I saw
you
from the cloister of the abbey on the day of my thwarted wedding. You nervously paced with the Timekeeper, cursing as I recall.”

I let go of his tunic, shoving him back in his seat. “My father has passed. I'm king now—and I've yet to behead anyone in my new capacity, though I'm eager to see what it's like.”

I stared, pinning him to his seat, then looked at the rest of the cabinet, scanning as Lia had done, wondering which hand had struck her, which had torn the shirt from her back, and worse, which of her own had betrayed her and every other kingdom on the continent by conspiring with the Komizar, trading our lives for their greed. Other than the Chancellor and the Watch Captain, the rest had remained curiously silent, and I found their quiet brooding just as disturbing as the outbursts. They plotted.