The Beauty of Darkness (57 page)

*   *   *

We lay in the darkness, my cheek on his chest. I felt his heartbeat, his breaths, his worries, his warmth. His fingers absently grazed lines down my arm. We talked like we used to, not about lists and supplies but what weighed on our hearts. He told me about the betrothal and why he couldn't go through with it. It wasn't just that he didn't love her. He already knew what I had been through. He promised himself he wouldn't do that to someone again. He remembered what I had said about choice, and he knew she deserved that too.

“Maybe she wants to marry you?”

“She's only fourteen and doesn't even know me,” he said. “I saw her trembling and afraid, but I was desperate to get here to you so I signed the papers.”

“Sven said breaking the betrothal could cost you your throne.”

“It's a risk I'll have to take.”

“But if you explain the circumstances, what the general did—”

“I'm not a child, Lia. I knew what I was signing. People sign contracts every day to get what they want. I got what I wanted. If I don't fulfill my end, I'll look like a liar to a kingdom that's already deeply troubled.”

He was facing an impossible choice. If he did marry her, he could ruin the future of a girl who deserved one. If he didn't, he could lose the confidence of a kingdom he loved and push it into further turmoil.

I asked him about Dalbreck and what it had been like there when he returned. He told me about his father's funeral, the obstacles and problems, and I heard the concern in his tone, but as he described it, I also heard his strength, his deep love for his kingdom, his yearning to return.
Leading is in his blood.
It made the risks he had taken for me and Morrighan all the greater. The ache in my heart surged. A farmer, a prince, a king. I loved him. I loved all that he ever was, and all that he would be—even if it was to be without me.

I rolled over, hovering over him this time, and I lowered my lips to his.

*   *   *

We slept and woke throughout the night, another kiss, another whisper, but finally dawn and the world crept back in. Raspberry light glowed around the drapes signaling that our lifetime was up. I lay curled in the crook of his arms and his fingers strummed my back, lightly touching my kavah.
Our kavah
, I wanted to say, but I knew the last thing he wanted was to be drawn into Venda's prophecy, though it was already too late for that.

We dressed without speaking.

We were leaders of kingdoms again, the sound of boots and buckles and duty hanging in the air around us. Our few hours were gone, and there were no more to spare. He would begin his day by checking on Sven, and I would leave to inform the Timekeeper of my duties so he could find me as the need arose, because I'd forbidden him to follow on my heels.

When my last lace was tied, I broke our silence. “There's something I still have to tell you, Rafe, something I've already told my father. When we get to the valley and meet the Komizar's army, I'm going to offer a peace settlement.”

His nostrils flared, and his jaw turned rigid. He bent to pick up his baldrick from the floor as if he didn't hear me. He slipped it over his head, adjusting the buckle, his movement punctuated with anger.

“I plan to offer the Vendans the right to settle in the Cam Lanteux, a chance for a better—”

He slammed his sword into his scabbard. “We are not going to offer the Komizar anything!” he lashed out. “Do you hear me, Lia? If he were on fire, I wouldn't so much as piss on him to douse the flames! He gets nothing!”

I reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away. I knew he was still reeling from the loss of Captain Azia and his men. “Not an offer to the Komizar,” I said. “I know he'll settle for nothing less than our slaughter. The offer is to the Vendan people, Rafe. Remember, they are not the Komizar.”

His chest heaved. “Lia, you're fighting an army, the Council, the thousands who are behind him and want the same things he does. They're not going to listen to any peace settlement from you.”

I thought about those who supported the Komizar. The
chievdars.
The governors who drooled over bounty and wanted far more. The quarterlords, who breathed power like it was air. The soldiers who massacred my brother and his company, then sneered at me as I buried them, and the hundreds more like them, those who reveled in destruction. Rafe was right. Like the Komizar, they would not listen.

But I had to believe there were others who would—the clans pressed into service, and others who cowered and followed the Komizar because they had no other options. The thousands who were desperate for any kind of hope. They were the ones I had to take a chance on.

“Before the battle begins, I am going to make the offer, Rafe.”

“Did your father agree to this?”

“It doesn't matter. I am regent.”

“The Lesser Kingdoms will never agree to it.”

“They will if Dalbreck leads the way. If we lose, it's going to happen anyway. And if we win—it still has to happen. It's the only way for us to move forward. Everyone needs hope, Rafe. I have to give it to them. It's the right thing to do.”

He argued that there was no time to offer a settlement and the battlefield was not a place to negotiate one. There were tens of thousands in an army that would stretch for miles—I couldn't speak to them all, and the Komizar wouldn't listen. The moments before battle were charged with uncertainty.

“I know. But I'll find a way. I'm just asking you to help me. Without Dalbeck in agreement, I will only be offering them false hope.”

He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “I don't know if I can make that promise, Lia. You're asking me to break a treaty that's centuries old.” He stepped closer, his anger receding. He brushed a wisp of hair from my cheek. “I know what else you plan on doing. I'm asking you one last time. Don't. Please. For your sake.”

“We've already discussed this, Rafe. It has to be someone.”

His eyes sparked again, resisting—it wasn't what he wanted to hear—but then our attention was drawn to an urgent knock at the door.

It was Aunt Bernette, breathless and holding her side. “Dalbreck troops!” she gasped. “They've been spotted! An hour out of Civica.”

My heart caught in my throat. “And the squads?” I asked.

Her eyes glistened with worry. “We don't know.”

*   *   *

Rafe, Tavish, and I, and a dozen soldiers rode out to where the troops were marching toward Civica. We saw a brigade of maybe five hundred. Not the six thousand Rafe had requested.

“The rest may be farther back,” Tavish commented. Rafe said nothing.

When they spotted us riding toward them, the caravan halted. Rafe hailed the colonel and asked where the rest of the troops were. The colonel explained that General Draeger had already recalled them to Dalbreck before the colonel got Rafe's message. I saw the heat glowing in Rafe's eyes, but he moved on to the subject that at the moment, was more pressing—the princes and their squads.

“They're here, Your Majesty, riding in the middle,” he said, nodding over his shoulder. “I'm afraid there were losses. We didn't—”

My heels dug in, and my horse and I flew toward the middle of the caravan. When the Dalbretch blue gave way to Morrighese red, I jumped from my horse, looking for Bryn and Regan and calling their names.

I spotted five horses with large bundles tied up in blankets draped over their saddles. Bodies. My throat closed.

A hand touched my shoulder.

I whirled and faced a man I didn't recognize, but who seemed to know me. “They're alive, Your Highness. This way.”

He walked me back in the caravan. He identified himself as a surgeon and then described my brothers' injuries. The brunt of the attack had been directed at them. “Their men fought valiantly, but as you can see, some lost their lives.”

“The attackers?”

“Dead, but it would have been the other way around for the whole Morrighese squad if the king hadn't sent a message.”

We reached the wagon, and the surgeon hung back, letting me meet with my brothers alone. My temples pounded. They both lay on bedrolls, their ashen pallor lit with a greasy sheen, but when Regan saw me, his eyes brightened.

“Sister,” he said, and tried to sit up, then grimaced and fell back. I crawled up into the wagon beside them and held their hands to my cheeks. My tears ran through their fingers.
They're alive. Bryn, Regan.
I whispered their names aloud as if to convince myself they were really here. Regan's eyes were wet with tears too, but Bryn's remained closed, a sleeping elixir keeping him in a dream world.

“We knew it was a lie,” Regan said. “We just didn't know how deep it ran.”

“None of us did,” I said.

“Before we left, Father whispered to me,
find her
. He wanted you back too. Is he still alive?”

“Yes,” I answered. I'd already told them about the Viceregent in the message I sent, but now I told him what had transpired these past weeks, and our plan to meet the Komizar in Sentinel Valley. And then, though it hurt to relive it, I told him the truth of Walther's death.

“Did he suffer?” he asked, his eyes sunken and expression grim.

I wasn't sure how to answer him and the memory of Walther raging forward into battle surfaced again. “He was mad with grief, Regan. He suffered from the moment Greta died in his arms. But on the field he died quickly—he was a warrior prince, brave and strong, but greatly outnumbered.”

“As we are now.”

“Yes,” I admitted, “as we are now.” I couldn't sugarcoat the truth for him, even with his weakened state.

“Hold off a few days before you leave,” he said. “And then I can ride with you.”

I heard the hunger in his voice, his desire to avenge his brothers and ride at his sister's side. It burned in him. I understood his need, but I sighed. “You have a gash in your side, Regan, that required twenty-seven stitches to close. If it were the other way around, would you take me along?”

His head rolled back. He knew he wouldn't be able to ride in a few days or even a few weeks. “Damn surgeons. They love to count.”

“You need to stay here. Bryn will need you when he wakes.”

I looked at Bryn, peaceful in his drugged dream world. My sweet young brother looked more like an angel than a soldier. “Does he know what happened?” I asked.

Regan shook his head. “I don't think so. He was screaming and delirious. He hasn't woken since.”

I looked down at Bryn's leg, half of it gone.

“If I'm not here when he wakes, tell him I will make sure they pay. For every life and pound of flesh they have taken. They will pay twofold.”

 

CHAPTE
R
EIGHTY-FOUR

Tavish, Jeb, and Orrin were directing troops to their places in the caravan. We were leaving in three waves. Gwyneth, Pauline, and Berdi walked with lists, checking supply wagons, making sure they were evenly dispersed among the contingents.

I was about to go speak with another regiment that had arrived the night before when Pauline called me over, ostensibly to check on a wagon. I knew something else was on her mind.

“The jacket you ordered is ready,” she said. “I put it in your room.” She kept her voice low, glancing over her shoulder. I had asked her to be discreet. “The dressmaker was not happy. She didn't understand why you wanted scraps when she had perfectly good fabric available.”

“But she did as I asked?”

Pauline nodded. “Yes, and she incorporated the sewn red scraps you gave me.”

“And the shoulder?”

“That too.” Her expression turned worried. “But you know what everyone else will think.”

“I can't worry about what others will think. I need to be recognized. What about the tether?”

She reached into her pocket and handed me a long slitted strip of leather. I already had the bones for it. I had been saving them.

“I also need to talk to you about Natiya,” she said. “She thinks she's coming with us.”

I rubbed my forehead, not wanting to get into another match of wills with Natiya, fearing she would follow behind anyway. “She can come,” I said. “She speaks Vendan. I'll have a task for her.” I saw the concern in Pauline's eyes. “I'll do my best to keep her safe,” I said, though my best hadn't been good enough yet. I was telling her my plans for Natiya when a loud voice boomed behind us.

“Well, if it isn't the smart-mouthed tavern maid and her pretty friend! Looks like I got here at just the right time. They have you servicing the soldiers now?”

I whirled to see a soldier—a familiar one. It took me a few seconds to place him, but then I remembered. His swagger and arrogant smile hadn't changed. He was the soldier from the tavern I had soaked with ale and then had threatened with a knife at the festival. It was obvious he hadn't forgotten me.

“You claimed that you'd be the one surprising me next time we met,” he said, drawing closer. “I guess it didn't work out that way.”

I stepped forward to meet him. “You just arrived last night, soldier?”

“That's right,” he said.

“And you're not familiar with my role here?”

“Easy enough to see what you're good for. And you promised that when we met again that we'd settle things between us once and for all.”

I smiled. “Yes, I did say that, didn't I? And I must admit, you did take me by surprise. Good for you, soldier. But I might have a surprise for you.”

He reached out and grabbed my wrist. “You're not pulling any knives on me this time.”

I looked at his fingers gripping my wrist and then back at his leering face. “Oh, I would never do that,” I said sweetly. “Why pull a knife when I have a whole army at my disposal?”