The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,143

going to be sick. Sick like a little schoolboy.”

I heard the disgust in his voice. “There is no shame in that, Kaden.”

“I’m not ashamed. Just angry that he could still do that to me. I couldn’t even recognize myself. I didn’t realize what seeing him after all this time would do to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how one person can be so afraid and so full of rage at the same time.”

I understood completely. I was still afraid, still angry, but mostly right now I was aching for everything I saw in Kaden’s face.

He paused, a deep breath filling his chest, his nostrils flaring. “He hadn’t changed. Even then, when he looked at me, all he saw was a liability. In that moment, if he could have sold me off for another coin, he would have. I felt like an eight-year-old boy again.”

I squeezed his hand. “You’re not a boy, Kaden. You’re a man. He can’t harm you anymore.”

“I know.” His brows pulled together. “But look at how many others he’s hurt. Andrés … he’s worse off than me. Maybe I was lucky to be tossed out when I was. He can’t get his mind to grasp what happened, that men in his company that he trusted with his life were betrayed by his own father.” He looked up at me. “He was half crazed when he rode out with scouts to find your brothers and their squads.”

“Did you—”

“Yes, Rafe and Sven interrogated the prisoners. They got nothing. And we sent four different units riding the fastest Ravians. You were still issuing orders when Rafe laid you on the bed, and those were just two of them.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Most of your words were mumbled, and Rafe finally told you to shut up and listen to the physician.”

“Did I?”

“You passed out again. I guess that’s listening.”

“What time is it?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Past midnight.”

He told me what had transpired after I passed out, most of which he had learned from my aunt Bernette. The entire citadelle had been bustling awake through most of the night. After leaving me, my mother had seen to my father. She had him moved back to their marriage chamber and threw out all medicines the court physician had ordered for him. He was bathed and given herbal drinks to flush his system. Kaden didn’t know enough about the poisoning effects of golden thannis to know if it would help. Vendans knew not to touch it. Just a nibble could bring down a horse. Andrés had recovered, but he was young and healthy and hadn’t been poisoned over a long period of time the way my father had. I worried that it might be too late to reverse the effects of the poison and my father would be trapped in a foggy stupor for the rest of his life. I worried that it might be too late for everything.

“Will all this be enough, Kaden?”

“To stop the Komizar? I don’t know. I think the rule Rafe threw your way is shaky—even with your mother’s nod of support.”

I saw it too. Parading a First Daughter out for ceremony was one thing, having her rule the kingdom was another. The troops Andrés marched into the hall with had supported me, but the majority of the lords weren’t convinced.

“I think your lords are still dubious about the threat,” he added.

I didn’t expect anything else. They had a lifetime of believing that Morrighan was the chosen Remnant and nothing could bring it down. “I’ll convince them,” I said, “and prepare them to oppose Venda.”

“Then what? As much as we both want to stop the Komizar, I can’t forget I’m still Vendan.”

His eyes searched mine, worried. “I know, Kaden.” His fears renewed my own. “But we both need to remember that there are two Vendas. The Komizar’s Venda that’s on its way here to destroy us, and the one that we both love. Somehow, together, we have to make this work.”

But I wasn’t sure how. We both knew the Komizar and Council would never back down. The prize was in their sight, and they intended to have it. It’s my turn now to dine on sweet grapes in winter. I lay there, Kaden’s hand still in mine, the coals of the hearth dimming, my lids growing heavy, the future swirling behind them, and I heard the soft moans again. This time, I knew it wasn’t my mother or my aunts I heard weeping. These cries came from far away,