The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,160

the tired blink of her eyes, the leveling of her shoulders as she faced her next task—interrogating the prisoners again, hoping one would slip with information or turn on the others as the court physician had. Suddenly, Terravin was selfishly fierce within me, the air, the tastes, every moment, every word between us, and I wished we could have it again, if only for a few hours, wished I really was the farmer that she had wanted me to be, a farmer who knew how to grow melons, and she was a tavern maid who had never heard of Venda.

I watched her walk away with Kaden to speak with the Vendans, and then I left in another direction. We weren’t in Terravin and never would be again. Wishes were for farmers, not kings.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

PAULINE

The Timekeeper was beside himself. He stood off to the side of the dais, fidgeting, waiting for Lia to finish. He had been exonerated, but now he had to follow Lia instead of dictate to her. His pocket watch and ledger had become useless. Tradition and protocol had always been the wheels and grease of Morrighan. Now Lia was.

Her aunt Bernette was standing beside him, waiting too. I saw pride in her expression but also worry. No one was quite sure how to navigate this new Lia. She moved about Civica with force and purpose and no apology. No words were bit back. She didn’t have the time. As far as I could see, no one doubted her—she had saved the king’s life and exposed traitors who had been plotting right beneath their noses—but I knew they wondered what she had seen and endured these past months. She was a curiosity.

As was I.

I saw the glances and heard the whispers about Pauline, the quiet, meek attendant who had always followed the rules. What had become of that girl? I wondered myself. Some parts of her were still here, other parts gone forever, and maybe others, I was still trying to find. It wasn’t just tradition and protocol that had been shattered, but also trust.

When the last address was finished, we made our way down the steps at the end of the dais.

“Hold up,” Gwyneth called to Natiya, then sidled up to me. “When are you coming back to the citadelle? I don’t like you off by yourself at the abbey.”

“Natiya’s there too.”

Gwyneth grunted. “And that’s supposed to comfort me? She’s a kettle ready to explode.”

We both watched Natiya, who still scanned the dispersing troops, her hand resting on the hilt of the sword that dangled from her hip. Ours weren’t the only stares she drew. A young girl armed with three weapons—and happy to flaunt them—was not a common sight for anyone in Civica.

“She’s finding her way,” I said.

Gwyneth’s eyes narrowed. We both knew Natiya’s history. “I suppose she is,” she sighed, and turned back to me, saying she was taking Natiya back to the citadelle. “She needs a break from her murderous ways.” She shot one last pointed look at me. “I’ll see you there too—with all your belongings. Right?”

“We’ll see,” I answered.

A frown pulled at the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t push the matter further. She strolled over to Natiya and slung her arm over her shoulder. “Come on, you bloodthirsty imp. Gwyneth’s going to teach you a few new things about subtlety today.”

I left in the opposite direction. I was just past the statue of Piers at the gate entrance when I heard someone call my name.

“Pauline! Wait up.”

I turned to see Mikael, and I came to a dead stop, stunned that he had the nerve to approach me.

“I know what you’re thinking, Pauline,” he said, “but I was only following orders. I’m a soldier and—”

“And you’ve already spent all the reward money? Or are you afraid now because I’m part of the new cabinet and I could do all manner of things to you if I choose to?” His eyelids twitched, and I knew I had hit the mark. “Get out of my sight, you groveling parasite!”

I pushed past him, but he grabbed my arm and whirled me around. “What about our baby? Where is—”

“Our baby? You’re mistaken, Mikael,” I growled. “I already told you the father is no one you know.”

I tried to yank away again, but his fingers dug into my wrist. “We both know that I’m—”

And then there was the crack of a fist on flesh and he was flying through the air. He landed with a thud,