The Beauty of Darkness (53 page)

I sighed. “There's been awkwardness. You've probably seen it. I thought it might be best just to get it out in the open and behind us.”

He nodded. “You're right. It's probably for the best.”

Bitterness rose in my throat. I hated things being for the best. They never really were. It was a phrase that sugarcoated the leftover crumbs of our options. “But I was surprised at how swiftly the betrothal happened after we parted.”

Sven looked at me oddly. “You do understand that he had no choice.”

“Yes, I know, for the stability of his reign.”

A furrow spread across his brow. “He turned down plenty of barons offering their daughters for the
stability of his reign
, but he couldn't turn down the general's offer.”

“Then the general's daughter must be very special.”

“Without a doubt, she is. She—”

Why was he doing this to me? I turned to leave. “Excuse me, Sven, but I—”

He reached out and lightly touched my arm to stop me. “I figured he didn't tell you everything. You need to hear this, Your Highness. It won't change anything. It
can't
change anything,” he said more gravely, “but maybe it will give you a better understanding of what the king had to do. I don't want you to think him so shallow that as soon as you were out of his sight, he forgot you.”

He told me that Rafe had returned to a kingdom in more turmoil than any of them expected. The assembly and cabinet were at one another's throats, commerce was in shambles, and the treasury greatly depleted. Dozens of decisions that had been put off were thrown at Rafe. He worked from sunup to late into the night. Everyone was looking for the young king to restore confidence and offered him a hundred opinions on how to do it, and all the while the general was breathing down his neck like a lion ready to pounce—the same general who had challenged him.

“But through it all, I know there wasn't a day he didn't wonder and worry about you, questioning whether he should have let you go or whether he should have gone with you. The first thing he did was have that book of yours translated.”

“The one he stole.”

He grinned. “Yes. He was hoping you'd made a mistake. That he could stop worrying.”

“But he learned otherwise?”

He nodded, then looked at me pointedly. “He also discovered the two passages that you failed to mention.”

“What does any of this have to do with his betrothal, Sven?”

“He didn't tear out of Dalbreck only to save your kingdom or his—those thoughts came later. He was only a young man racing against time, desperate to save someone he still loved, but he knew he had to be clever about it too. He ordered the general to outfit a special company of soldiers by the next day so he could slip undetected into your kingdom with the very best men at his side. The general agreed—on one condition.”

My stomach slowly crawled into my throat. A condition. “He blackmailed Rafe?”

“I think the words
negotiation
and
compromise
were bandied about. He claimed he only wanted to ensure that Rafe returned home this time.”

As stunned as I was, I also felt something lift in me. “Then it's not a real betrothal at all. When he gets back to Dalbreck, he can—”

“I'm afraid it is very real, Your Highness.”

“But—”

“One thing you should know. A betrothal agreement is the same as law in Dalbreck. Why do you think our kingdom became so enraged when your betrothal to the prince was broken? In our kingdom, it doesn't matter if it's written on paper or offered with a handshake. The word of a man is a promise. And this time, Jaxon has given his word to his own people. He has already pushed the limits of their trust by his long absence. A king, in the eyes of his subjects, who cannot be trusted to honor his word is not a king to be trusted at all. If he broke this promise, he wouldn't have a kingdom to return to.”

“He could lose his throne?” My mind spun with how much Rafe had risked.

“Yes, and he cares deeply about his kingdom. They need him,” Sven answered. “It's the kingdom of his fathers and ancestors. It's in his blood to lead.”

I understood the weight of promises, and Rafe's strength as a king mattered more to Morrighan now, than it ever had. It mattered to me.

I stared out at the jagged line of forest, feeling the stinging irony of Rafe's choice: To help me and the kingdom of Morrighan survive, he had been forced to cut out my heart.

“Is she kind?” I finally asked.

Sven cleared his throat and shrugged. “She seems agreeable enough.”

“Good,” I said. “He deserves that much.”

And I meant it.

I left and went to the roof, where it was only me, a thousand blinking stars, and the beauty of darkness stretched to the ends of the universe, snuffing out the endless games of courts and kingdoms.

 

 

They passed through the long valley

and the sentinels of devastation,

looked down on Morrighan,

from the towering peaks,

whispering that the end of the journey was near.

But Darkness roared, striking out again,

and Morrighan fought for the Holy Remnant,

spilling the blood of darkness,

vanquishing it forever.

—Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. IV

 

CHAPTE
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I sipped hot chicory out of a tall mug, studying the maps spread across the table in the meeting chamber. I moved them around as if looking at them from a new angle would make me see something I hadn't before.
There.
It swirled inside me, a distant voice pushing me to look again and again, but I didn't know what I was searching for.
There.
An answer? A warning? I wasn't sure.

I'd arrived early because I couldn't sleep. It was still dark when I heard the cries of children. I threw back my quilt and looked out the window, but the cries weren't coming from outside. They hovered in my room and swam behind my eyes. I saw them huddled, afraid, the young Vendan soldiers who were on their way. And then I heard the brezalots, their breath hot and fierce, the steam from their nostrils filling the night air, and finally the whispers of the Komizar crawled beneath my skin like vermin raising my flesh.
Fervor, Jezelia, fervor. Are you understanding me at last?

There was no going back to sleep after that. I dressed and crept down to the kitchen, where a kettle of hot water always steamed, and while my chicory steeped, I knelt beside the hearth, saying my morning remembrances, thinking of Morrighan crossing the wilderness with no map to guide her, and the courage she must have conjured. I prayed for that same courage.

There were at least a dozen maps laid out on the table. Ones just of Civica, others of the whole kingdom, and still more of the whole continent. The maps blurred and a scent streamed through me, fragrant, like crushed grass in a meadow. The tiny hairs raised on my neck.
There.
A voice as clear as my own.

I earnestly rearranged the maps again, this time examining the southern routes, but they had no more answers for me than before. There were dozens of possibilities. We had gone around and around about which route the Komizar would take, though once he spilled into Morrighan, it would make little difference. It wouldn't take a hundred and twenty thousand soldiers long to quash villages along the way and then engulf Civica. Another looming question was when they would get here. How long did we have? Much depended on the route, though the difference between southern and northern routes was still only a matter of days. Lookouts had been sent to provide early warning, but they could not scout every mile of a vast wilderness.

The last two weeks had taken much of our strategizing outdoors, riding the surrounding countryside, trying to find strategic locations to mount and fortify our defenses. Civica was miserably vulnerable, and the blockades being built on the two main arteries seemed woefully inadequate. During this time, I began training again. As soon as the sling and bandage came off, I tried to regain the strength in my left hand, but the numbness persisted. It was good for holding a shield and little else. I couldn't hit a target from ten feet. My right hand had to work harder. I tried to hide my frustration as Natiya and I trained dozens of women who had come forward to serve in the effort, many of them already skilled with bows and swords.

When he saw women among the troops, General Howland's jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crumble into a hundred blustering splinters. “Every willing soldier is welcome and needed, General,” I told him, stamping out his arguments before they could begin. “A woman will be leading you into battle. Why would you be surprised to see them among the ranks?” He had looked at me, stunned, and I realized it was the first time he had grasped that I would be going into the battle with him. Yes, he was counting the days until my father recovered or my brothers returned, but there were still no signs of either one.

The door opened, and I glanced up. Rafe stood there, a steaming mug in his hand too. I looked back at the maps. “You're early.”

“So are you,” he said.

I hadn't told him that I knew the circumstances of his betrothal. My toast hadn't entirely eliminated the awkwardness between us. There were times he caught me looking at him, and I would quickly look away. At other times, his gaze lingered on me even when our conversation was finished, and I wondered what he was thinking. But we eased into a rhythm. Friends. Comrades. Like Kaden and I were.

He walked over to my side of the table and looked at the sprawled papers with me. His arm brushed mine as he pushed a map aside. My skinned burned with his touch. Burned in a way it shouldn't between friends. It wasn't right, I knew, but I couldn't help what I felt.

“See anything?” he asked.

I saw only that our efforts seemed futile. “No.”

“We'll find a way,” he said, reading my thoughts.

*   *   *

Kaden arrived, and we conferred, as we did each morning before everyone else joined us, about what needed to be addressed that day. The discussion of evacuating towns along likely invasion routes needed to be broached, but we knew that could stir panic and disrupt supply chains that we desperately needed. We leaned back in our chairs, our boots resting on the table, and hours later, we were in much the same position as we listened to Tavish and Captain Reunaud wrestle over ways to bring down a brezalot. They were nasty charging creatures and perfect for the delivery of the Komizar's most destructive weapon. Both men had seen them killed with spears, but that would require too close a proximity to the exploding animals. They agreed a siege crossbow would work, but without knowing exactly where the enormous horses would charge from, we would need dozens of the weapons. Morrighan had four that hadn't been used in years. Heavy siege weapons weren't useful for most battles that occurred in remote field locations. Killing a man required only a sword or arrow. The order went out for more siege crossbows to be built.

There was a knock at the door, and a sentry announced that servers were here with the midday meal. Maps were moved to a side table, and platters were brought in. As we ate, talk turned back to the training of soldiers, and my thoughts returned to my brothers. I looked at Rafe across the table from me. I wasn't sure I had ever thanked him for requesting an escort home for my brothers' squads, and then I selfishly wondered how many soldiers were in a Dalbretch battalion. In Morrighan, a battalion consisted of four hundred soldiers. Once here, would his men stay and help us?

I knew the same thought had simmered in Kaden's mind, and then between bites of his brisket and bread, the Field Marshal suddenly spoke aloud the question that we all had on our minds—would Dalbreck send more troops to help Morrighan? The room fell silent.

The question had already been asked. Rafe had maintained since his arrival in Civica that he and his men were there only to help root out traitors, stabilize our kingdom, and help us prepare our forces for a possible invasion. The Field Marshal had put Rafe in an awkward position by asking again. Dalbreck was in jeopardy too. Rafe had his own borders to think about, not to mention his own troubled reign. He had already risked much just in coming here. I saw Sven's focus sharpen, waiting to see what he would say.

Rafe studied me, weighing his answer carefully, then looked back at the Field Marshal. “When I sent the message to Fontaine, I also made a request for troops.”

Expressions around the table brightened.

“How many?” Marques asked.

“All of them.”

Sven leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It's our largest outpost. That's six thousand soldiers.”

A few hushed seconds passed.

“Well. That's—” The Field Marshal's brows were slivered moons above his wide eyes.

“Remarkable!” Howland finished.

“And very much welcomed,” Marques added.

“I made a similar request to Marabella,” Rafe added. “They'll pick up troops at two more outposts along the way. That's another two thousand. I'm certain they'll all come, as long as the Valsprey got there without incident. I can't make a promise about the rest.”

I wasn't sure we had heard him right. “The rest?” I said, as stunned as everyone else.

Sven stood, his hands pressed against the table.
“The rest?”

“The thirty-two thousand troops still in Dalbreck that I'm pulling from our borders. As I said, I can't promise they'll come. The transition of power has had some obtacles. The general I had to request the troops from is also the one who recently challenged me. He might use this request as a way to resume his campaign for the throne. It's unlikely, though—” Rafe looked at me, hesitating.