The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,174

He taunted and cursed me with every mile he traveled. I had done the unthinkable—worse than stabbing him—I had stolen some of his power. I tried to force calm back into my heart.

I wouldn’t let his lies steal the victories of this day.

I took a cleansing breath and poured water into the washbasin, but then I froze, staring at the glistening surface. The pitcher slipped from my fingers, crashing to the floor. Blood swirled in the water, fingers of red spinning before my eyes, a tempest that carried the wails of battle, the slice of a sword across flesh, the dull thud of bodies falling to earth. And then, just as quickly, it was only water again, clear and tame.

I backed away, trying to breathe, stumbling blindly through the room.

My brothers’ squads.

A painful gasp finally filled my lungs, and I searched for my clothes. My hands shook as I dressed, buckled belts, sheathed weapons, pulled on boots. My word was as true as Rafe’s. I headed for the cell that held the Viceregent.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

RAFE

Tavish told me Sven had gone to speak with Captain Azia about the rotation of soldiers guarding the prisoners. He hadn’t been able to get a word out of Sven. He was still closemouthed and steaming when he left. “But you know Sven. He always bellows about your half-assed decisions.”

“You think I’m wrong too?”

Tavish shrugged on his vest, getting dressed for dinner. “I always think you’re wrong. It usually works out. Don’t worry, he’ll come around.” He pulled on his boots then paused when he had one half-way laced. “But I’d hold off telling him about your other decision. That might blow the top of his head off.”

I nodded and poured myself some water.

Tavish grinned. “You know, if you die in this battle, you won’t have to marry anyone.”

I choked mid-sip, spilling water down my shirt. “Well, that’s a bright thought. Thanks.”

“I’m a tactician. Always thinking.”

I dabbed a towel to my shirt. “Maybe you should look for another line of work.”

His grin faded. “You’ll be able to weather this out. We’ll stand by you.”

I had told Tavish of my decision not to marry the general’s daughter. It wasn’t for Lia’s sake, or mine, but for the girl’s. She didn’t want to marry me anymore than I wanted to marry her. She was being forced into it the same way Lia had been. I had already made that fatal mistake once. I wasn’t about to make it again, even if it cost me my throne. The girl deserved to choose her own future—not one contrived by the general to serve his needs.

“Did you tell Lia?” he asked.

“Why? So we can dredge up the same argument we had when we left Marbella? I can’t go through that again. My decision won’t change anything between us. If we survive all this, I will still return to Dalbreck and she will still—” I shook my head. “She won’t go with me.”

“How can you be certain?”

I thought about the fury in her eyes when she danced with me at the outpost, the bones she secretly slipped from the dining table into her pocket, the way she paced the dais at Piers Camp and then lifted her hand with Kaden’s when she addressed the troops. “I know her. I’m certain.”

“She’s made other promises?”

“Yes.”

He stood and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jax. If I could change any of this for you, I would.”

“I know.”

He left to meet up with Jeb and Orrin. I changed my shirt, then headed out to find Sven, still chewing on his words. He’ll come around. But this time felt different. Sven had exploded at me before, but never in front of outsiders. Maybe that was what rankled him. I’d made decisions that put my throne in jeopardy—the very position he’d spent a good portion of his life preparing me for—and I’d done it without consulting with him first.

I remembered back when I was saddling my horse and leaving on a blind quest to find a runaway princess. He hadn’t been in favor of that either, but after hitting me with a barrage of questions, he stepped aside, letting me go. That was what Sven always did—he raised arguments until my resolve became steel. And when I was torn, he goaded me—make your decision and live by it. Even when I had been ready to tear the general’s head from his shoulders, Sven made me reconsider. Which do you want more, the satisfaction of ripping off his