The Beauty of Darkness (30 page)

“I heard something. Were you—”

I wiped my cheeks, then ran my hands down the front of my shirt before I turned to face him. “Coughing. The dust is thick up here.”

He walked over, the floor creaking beneath his steps, and he looked down at me. He swiped his thumb along my wet lashes.

“It's only the dust,” I said.

He nodded, and his arms slipped around me, holding me close. “Sure. Dust.” I let myself lean against him. He stroked my hair, and I felt the ache in his chest as strongly as I felt it in my own.

*   *   *

It was late. Natiya was already tucked into bed in the cottage, and Enzo was asleep in Berdi's room. Kaden and I sat in the kitchen while I grilled him on any other details he might know of the Komizar's plans, but I sensed he was occupied with other thoughts. I was grateful he hadn't brought it up again, but I knew our moment in the barn weighed on him. It had been only a passing tired minute that caught me off guard. That was all. After a bowl of fish stew that was surprisingly almost as good as Berdi's, I felt fortified, ready to move forward.

Now Kaden patiently endured questions I had already asked. His answers were the same. He knew only of the Chancellor. Maybe he and the Royal Scholar were the only traitors in the cabinet. Was that possible?

My relationships with all of the cabinet members were rocky at best, except perhaps for the Viceregent and the Huntmaster. Those two had usually offered a smile and kind word when I entered a room instead of a dismissive scowl, but the cabinet post of Huntmaster was mostly ceremonial, a vestige from an earlier time when filling the larder was foremost among cabinet duties. Most of the time, he didn't even sit in on cabinet meetings. The royal First Daughter was granted a ceremonial seat as well, but my mother had rarely been invited to the cabinet table.

My thoughts jumped back to the Viceregent. “Pauline will go to him first,” I told Kaden. “Of all the cabinet, he's always had the most sympathetic ear.” I chewed on my knuckle. Frequent travel was part of the Viceregent's job, visiting other kingdoms, and I worried that he might very well be gone. If so, Pauline would go straight to my father instead, not quite comprehending his temper.

Kaden wasn't responding to anything I said, instead staring blankly across the room. Suddenly he stood and went to the pantry, rifling through supplies. “I have to go. It's not far from here. Only an hour west of Luiseveque in County Düerr. We won't lose time.” He named a rendezvous point where he would meet Natiya and me north of here tomorrow and told me to take a woodland trail. “No one will see you. You'll be safe.”

“Leaving now?” I stood, and pulled a sack of jerky from his hands. “You can't ride at night.”

“Enzo's asleep. It's the best time to trust him.”

“You need to rest too, Kaden. What—”

“I'll rest when I get there.” He took the jerky from me and began rearranging his bag.

My heart sped up. This was not like Kaden. “What's so urgent in County Düerr?”

“I need to take care of something, once and for all.” The muscles in his neck were like tight cords, and he kept his gaze averted from mine. And then I knew.

“Your father,” I said. “He's the lord of the county there, isn't he?”

He nodded.

I stepped away, trying to remember the county lords. There were twenty-four of them in Morrighan, and I didn't know most of their names, especially not those down here in the southern counties, but I knew this lord might not be alive much longer.

I sat down on a stool in the corner, the same one where Berdi had once tended my neck. “Are you going to kill him?” I asked.

Kaden paused, then finally pulled out a chair and straddled it, facing its spindled back. “I don't know. I thought I just wanted to see my mother's grave. See where I had once lived, the last place where I was—” He shook his head. “I can't just let it go, Lia. I have to see him at least one more time. It's something unfinished inside of me, and this might be my last chance to make some sense of it. I won't know what I'm going to do until I see him.”

I didn't try to talk him out of it. I felt no sympathy for this lord who had whipped his young son, then sold him like a piece of trash to strangers. Some betrayals ran too deep to ever forgive.

“Be careful,” I said.

He reached out, squeezing my hand, and the storm in his eyes doubled. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I'll be there. I promise.”

He rose to leave, but then stopped at the kitchen door.

“What is it?” I asked.

He turned to face me. “There's something else that's unfinished. I need to know. Do you still love him?”

His question knifed through me—I hadn't expected it, though I should have. I saw the wondering in his eyes every time he looked at me. He knew when he held me in the loft that it wasn't dust I had choked on. I stood and walked to the chopping table, unable to look him in the eye, and brushed imaginary crumbs away.

I hadn't even allowed myself to dwell on this thought. Love. It felt foolish and indulgent in light of everything else. Did it really matter? I remembered Gwyneth's cynical laugh when I told her I wanted to marry for love. She already knew what I hadn't yet grasped. It never ended well for anyone. Not for Pauline and Mikael. My parents. Walther and Greta. Even Venda was proof, riding off with a man who had ultimately destroyed her. I thought about the girl Morrighan, stolen from her tribe and sold as a bride to Aldrid the scavenger for a sack of grain. Somehow they had built a great kingdom together, but it wasn't built on love.

I shook my head. “I'm not even sure what love is anymore.”

“But it's different between us than it was with—” He left his question dangling as if it was too painful to say Rafe's name.

“Yes, it's different between us,” I said quietly. I lifted my gaze to meet his. “It always has been, Kaden, and if you're honest with yourself, you've always known it too. From the beginning, you said that Venda came first. I can't explain exactly how our destinies became entwined, but they did—and now we both care for Venda and Morrighan, and want a better end for them than the one the Komizar has planned. Maybe that's what brought us together. Don't underestimate the bond we share. Great kingdoms have been built on far less.”

He stared at me, his eyes restless. “On our way here, the things you scratched into the dirt, what were they?”

“Words, Kaden. Only lost unsaid words that added up to good-bye.”

He pulled in a deep, slow breath. “I'm trying to find my way through this, Lia.”

“I know, Kaden. I am too.”

His gaze remained fixed on me. He finally nodded and left. I walked to the door, watching him ride off, the moonless night swallowing him up in seconds, and I ached with his want, ached with what I couldn't give him. His need reached deeper and farther than me.

I returned to the kitchen and blew out the lantern but couldn't let the night go. I leaned against the wall tacked with paper—lists that tried to hold on to the life that Berdi had traded for another decades ago. In the dim light, the faint edges of her kitchen became a distant world of twists, turns, and unmapped choices, the ones that had woven together and defined Berdi's life.

Do you regret not going?

I can't think about things like that now. What's done is done. I did what I had to do at the time.

My hands pressed against the cool of the wall behind me.

What was done was done.

I couldn't think about it anymore.

*   *   *

Early the next morning, I raided Berdi's wardrobe and found only part of what I required.

“Natiya, are you good with a needle?”

“Very,” she answered. I'd suspected as much. To rip out a hem, conceal a knife in a cloak, and then sew it up again in a few precious minutes required a skill that I certainly didn't have—much to my aunt Cloris's chagrin.

I asked Enzo for coin. I had used all the money Rafe had packed in my bag for messengers in Turquoi Tra. Enzo didn't hesitate, and pulled a sack from the potato barrel in the pantry. He threw me the whole thing. It wasn't much, but I gladly took it and shoved it into my pack, nodding my thanks. “I'll tell Berdi you're doing a fine job here. She'll be pleased.”

“You mean amazed,” he added sheepishly.

I shrugged, unable to deny it. “That too. And remember, Enzo, you've never laid eyes on me.”

He nodded, an understanding passing through his eyes, and I wondered at his transformation. Rafe's threats had no doubt gotten his attention, but I was certain it was the magic of Berdi's trust that had changed him. I just had to pray that the change was lasting.

We snuck out, quiet as night, careful not to wake any boarders.

*   *   *

The clerk at the mercantile was happy to see us. We were her first customers of the day—and the only ones. I saw her squinting, trying to peer through the gauzy cover of the white scarf draped over my face. I asked if she had any red satin, and she didn't try to hide her surprise. Most widows would be asking for more somber, respectful fabrics.

Natiya surprised me with her quick explanation. “My aunt wishes to make a tapestry honoring her departed husband. Red was his favorite color.”

I added a quick sob and nod for effect.

In minutes we were on our way, with an extra yard thrown in by the sympathetic clerk.

We had one more stop. What I needed there couldn't be bought with the usual kind of currency. I only hoped I had the kind I needed.

 

CHAPTE
R
FORTY-THREE

RAFE

My transition from soldier to king had been abrupt, and it seemed every baron in the assembly wanted a piece of my hide. I knew their bravado was posturing to secure my ear and attention, which I assured them they had. The eight officers of the cabinet were the most demanding, but then they were the ones who had worked the most closely with my father.

I was welcomed of course, but behind every welcome came an admonishment—
Where were you?
And a warning—
The upheaval is widespread. It will take time to heal.

The court physician offered me the most painful reminder.
Both of your parents asked for you on their deathbeds. I promised them you were on your way.
I wasn't the only one who offered false hope and expedient lies, but I had little time to dwell on my guilt.

If I wasn't in sessions separately with the assembly, cabinet, or the court of generals, I was with them all at once. General Draeger spoke up often, and being the governing general of the capital, his voice held sway. He made his opinions known—a message to me as much as to everyone else that he was keeping a close watch. His hand was still in this, ready. He was going to make me pay for my absence.

They all felt the need to test this untried king, but as Sven had advised, I listened, I weighed, I acted. But I would not be pushed. It was a dance of give and take, and when they pushed too far, I cut them short. I was reminded of my dance with Lia when she would not step back, her foot stamping down and staying put.

It was during that dance that I had known she wouldn't be pushed any further. I was losing her.
No, Rafe, not losing. Lost. She's gone for good. It's for the best
, I reminded myself. I had a troubled kingdom that needed my undivided attention.

When the court of generals balked at my first order as king, I held my position and let them know this decision was not under advisement. Reinforcements were to be sent to all northern border outposts and the vulnerable cities in between, and troops at southern outposts were to be split between the eastern and western borders. Trouble was brewing, and until we knew the exact extent of it, this was a necessary precaution. The barons protested, saying it would leave little protection here in the capital.

“But first they would have to get past the borders,” I told them.

“Our borders are already well fortified based on your father's and his advisers' assessments,” General Draeger interjected. “You'd further disrupt the kingdom because of one
unreliable
girl's claim?”

The chamber grew instantly silent.
Unreliable
flicked off the general's tongue with a hundred insinuating nuances. Rumors and questions about the princess and my relationship with her had surely run through the assembly like wildfire. No doubt they knew of my bitter parting with her too. This was the first time anyone had dared bring her up.
One girl?
As if she was chaff. Weightless and disposable. It was another gauntlet thrown down. A test of my loyalty. Perhaps they even secretly laughed if they knew I had claimed her as my future queen before my troops. Looking at the faces staring into mine, I suddenly saw myself through Lia's eyes, how I had questioned something she so desperately believed. I saw myself as one of them.
Rafe, haven't you ever felt something deep in your gut?

I wouldn't bite at the general's bait and bring Lia into this. “My decision is based on what I observed, General Draeger, and nothing else. My duty is to keep Dalbreck's citizens safe and the realm secure. Until we have further information, I expect my orders to be carried out immediately.”

The general shrugged, and the assembly grudgingly nodded. I sensed they all wanted more from me, to denounce Lia before them all as another Morrighese conniver who couldn't be trusted. They wanted me to be fully and completely one of their own again.

There was a rushed coronation, and my father's funeral pyre was built at last. He'd been dead for weeks, his body preserved and wrapped, but until I was found, his death had to remain a secret and he couldn't receive a proper release to the gods.

When I lifted the torch to light his pyre, I felt oddly inadequate, as if I should have understood the gods more. I should have listened more. Sven hadn't been strong on tutoring me in the heavenly realms. Most of that had been left to Merrick during my infrequent visits to the chanterie. I remembered Lia asking me which god I prayed to. I had been at a loss to answer her. They had names? And according to Morrighese tradition, there were four of them. Merrick had taught me there were three who ruled from a single heavenly throne and rode on the backs of fiercesome beasts while they guarded the gates of heaven—that is, when they weren't throwing stars to the earth.
It is by the gods that Dalbreck is supreme. We are the favored Remnant.