The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,161
flat on his back, a cloud of dust erupting around him. Kaden was upon him, grabbing him by his collar and hauling him to his feet. Molten rage twisted Kaden’s face. “You have a question about the father, soldier, I’m the one to ask! And if you ever lay a hand on Pauline again, it will be more than a split lip I give you.”
Kaden pushed him away, and Mikael stumbled back, then froze. He knew who Kaden was, the Assassin of Venda who could have easily gutted him without making a sound. But more than that, I saw another assumption settling over Mikael’s face. Maybe it was true, maybe he hadn’t been the only one in my life. His inroad to me was gone. He wiped his lip and turned away, disappearing into the milling soldiers.
I saw Kaden’s shoulders heaving as if he was trying to dispel the last of his anger. He told other soldiers who had stopped at the commotion to go back about their business before he finally turned to face me. He brushed the hair from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Pauline. I saw you trying to pull away, and I—” He shook his head. “I know I had no right to intervene or imply that—”
“You already knew who he was?”
He nodded. “Lia told me he was still alive, and I put it together. The same shade of blond as the baby. Your reaction.”
The color on his neck suddenly deepened, as if just realizing his admission—he had been watching me. His eyes bore into mine, and I saw a hundred questions behind them I hadn’t seen before. Would I ever forgive him? Had he gone too far? Was I all right? But mostly I saw the kindness in them I had seen the first time I met him. Silence and dust motes hung in the air between us.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said again, and glanced at his knuckles that were red from the blow to Mikael’s face. “I know you wouldn’t want it to appear that a barbarian Assassin—”
“Will you walk me back to the abbey, Kaden?” I asked. “If you have the time? Just for appearances, in case he’s still watching?”
He looked at me, surprised, perhaps even fearful, but he nodded, and we left for the abbey. Both of us knew that Mikael wasn’t watching.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
After my aunts and Gwyneth helped me bathe and dress, I shooed everyone from my room. For almost a week now, I had been consumed in meetings with generals, officers, and lords, and today I had addressed more regiments who had arrived after being called back to Civica. I needed one quiet moment. I remembered what Dihara had told me about the gift. The walled in, they starve it just as the Ancients did.… You’re surrounded by the noise of your own making. And there had been a continuous stream of noise, most of it passionate and loud.
Rafe, Kaden, and I led private talks with Generals Howland, Marques, and Perry, Captain Reunaud, the Field Marshal, and Sven and Tavish. I personally greeted General Howland, trying to put our rocky start behind us. Our team of ten gathered maps, made lists, and devised our strategies. Kaden and I told them in vivid detail about the weapons and numbers we faced, a hundred and twenty thousand. When the Field Marshal suggested that the Komizar might divide his forces to attack on many fronts, Kaden assured him he wouldn’t. The Komizar would hit with his full force on Morrighan, ruthlessly plowing his way to Civica to make it a quick decisive victory. I agreed. The Komizar’s blood pulsed with the power this army gave him. He wouldn’t divide it. I remembered his face as he beheld his creation—its immense, crushing impact was a thing of beauty to him.
During our meetings, arguments erupted over everything from timing to routes the Komizar would take to the best ways to arm our soldiers. One thing was clear—we needed more—so that call was sent out too. More weapons, more soldiers. The lords were sent back to their counties with the same orders for recruits and supplies.
All of Morrighan was enlisted in the effort. Metal of all kinds was brought to the forges to repurpose into weapons. Gates, doors, teapots, no item was too small or too important that it couldn’t be used to save the kingdom. The mill was tapped to work around the clock. More wood was needed to build stockades, polearms, and defenses yet to