The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,164
them both dressed in officer’s uniforms. Captain Azia blushed at the fawning of my aunts, and I realized how young he truly was. He and Sven quickly became engaged in conversation with them and Lady Adele. I wondered what had happened to Rafe. I sipped my muscat and then I heard his footsteps. I knew them as well as my own, the weight, the pace, the slight jingle of his scabbard. He hurried in and paused in the doorway, his hair slightly windblown, dressed in his Dalbretch blues too. My stomach squeezed against my will. He apologized for being late—he’d been stuck in talks with some of his men. He greeted my mother with additional apologies, then turned to me. He noticed my sling.
“The physician said it would help reduce the swelling,” I explained.
He looked at the sling, back at me, at the sling again, and I knew he was searching for words while others swirled in his head. I knew his tics, his pauses, his breaths. Would his betrothed ever know him as well?
“I’m glad you’re following his advice,” he finally said.
It was only a few spare words, but everyone had paused from their own conversations to watch us. He turned and took his seat at the opposite end of the table.
Before the first course was brought in, my mother turned to me. “Lia, would you like to offer a remembrance?” It was more than simple politeness. It was her recognition of the position I now held.
Memory tugged behind my sternum, and I stood. An acknowledgment of sacrifice. But there was no plate of bones to lift. I said some of the words only to myself, others for all to hear.
E cristav unter quiannad.
“A sacrifice ever remembered.”
Meunter ijotande.
“Never forgotten.”
Yaveen hal an ziadre.
“We live another day. And with it, may the heavens grant us wisdom. Paviamma.”
Only Kaden echoed back paviamma to me.
My mother looked at me uncertainly. It was not a traditional prayer. “Is that a Vendan prayer?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “And part Morrighese prayer.”
“But that last word?” Lady Adele asked. “Paveem?”
“Paviamma,” I said. My throat tightened unexpectedly.
“It’s a Vendan word,” Rafe answered. “It can mean many things, depending on how it’s said. Friendship, forgiveness, love.”
“You know the language, Your Majesty?” my mother asked.
He kept his eyes averted from mine. “Not as well as the princess, and of course, Kaden, but I know enough to get by.”
My mother’s gaze shifted to Kaden and then to me. I saw the worry in her eyes. A Vendan language, a Vendan Assassin seated at our table, a Vendan prayer, and Kaden’s lone response to it. He and I shared far more than just an escape from Venda.
Sven seemed to notice my mother’s pause and jumped in, saying how he had learned Vendan after being a prisoner in a mine for two years with a fellow named Falgriz. “A beast of a man, but he helped keep me alive.” He entertained everyone with a colorful story, and I was grateful to him for drawing the attention away from me. My aunts were spellbound by the daring account of his escape. Tavish rolled his eyes as if he’d heard the story before—many times over.
The first course was served—a cheese dumpling.
Comfort food. I looked up at my mother, and she smiled. It was what she served whenever I or my brothers weren’t feeling well. I was grateful she hadn’t gone to great lengths to impress King Jaxon. In light of everything that had transpired, a simple meal seemed the most appropriate.
When my mother inquired about the Valsprey, Sven told her the message had surely arrived at the outpost by now but we wouldn’t hear anything back. He explained it was a one-way message only that we had to keep our hopes in.
“Then we shall keep that hope,” Aunt Bernette said, “and be grateful to all of you for providing it.”
My mother lifted her glass and offered a toast to Rafe, his soldiers, the Valsprey, and even for the colonel who would receive the message and help her sons. A rally of toasts followed, circling the table and offering gratitude to all those present who helped uncover the conspiracy.
My chest warmed with my many sips of muscat, and a server stepped in to refill my goblet.
“And to you, Kaden,” my mother said. “I’m so very sorry for how you were betrayed by one of our own, and doubly thankful you are helping us now.”
“A Morrighese son, returned home,” Aunt Cloris said, lifting her glass.