The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,200

full in ways I’d never thought possible. But in other ways … some things had taken hold of me that I couldn’t quite shake. Things like Terravin—a new beginning that had led to so much more.

I took my dishes to the sideboard and grabbed a rag, squeezing it out in the soapy water. A servant walked in, but I turned her away. “I’ll do it,” I told her, and she left.

I wiped the crumbs I had left on the table, but then continued to scrub, working my way to the other end.

Pauline walked in, her arms full of books, and dropped them on the table. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just cleaning up a bit.”

She grinned. “You look more like a kitchen helper than a busy ruler.”

“There’s little difference,” I said, and dropped the rag back in the soap pan. I surveyed the floor and reached for the broom propped against the wall.

“The floor doesn’t need sweeping,” she said.

“The queen says it does.”

Her lips pursed in mocking offense. “Then I guess you must sweep.”

She left, I assumed to get another load of books.

The sweet scent of Berdi’s stew hung in the air. There were still few luxuries in Venda, but her bottomless pots of stew were one, and as I swept, I saw a jeweled bay, heard the cry of gulls, remembered a gentle knock on my cottage door and a garland of flowers placed in my hands.

A happy squeal broke the silence, and I looked up to see Kaden and Pauline at the entrance to the hall quietly conferring. He handed Rhys to her, but they remained a tight knot, his lips brushing hers with ease. They grew closer every day. Yes, I thought, there are a hundred ways to fall in love.

I walked over and replaced the broom in its spot near the sideboard. I had no more time for daydreaming. Piles of paper waited for me and I—

“Lia?” Kaden called.

I turned. He and Pauline walked closer. “Yes?”

“There’s another emissary here to see you.”

I rolled my eyes. I was weary of the endless meetings with the Lesser Kingdoms. It seemed nothing was ever settled once and for all. There were always more assurances I had to offer them. “He or she can wait until—”

“It’s an emissary from the king of Dalbreck,” Pauline said.

When I didn’t budge, Kaden added a reminder. “Dalbreck has been very generous with their supplies.”

I grunted and conceded. “Show him in.”

Kaden looked over my drab attire. “Aren’t you going to change into something more … presentable?”

I looked down at my work dress, then shot him a disapproving stare, saying more firmly, “Show him in.”

Pauline began to protest too, but I stopped her.

“If this is good enough for the people of Venda, it’s good enough for an emissary.”

They both frowned.

I pulled my cap from my head and brushed my hair with my fingers. “There! That better?”

They both sighed and left. Minutes later, they returned, Pauline rushing in ahead, standing stiffly near the hearth. Kaden stood at the end of the hall, mostly cast in shadows. I could hear the shuffling of a contingent somewhere behind him. Kaden stepped forward and announced, “The emissary of Dalbreck, here to speak with the queen of Venda.”

I waved my fingers forward impatiently, and Kaden stepped aside.

The emissary stepped forward.

I blinked.

I swallowed.

He walked across the hall toward me. The only sound was his heavy boots tapping on the stone.

He stopped in front of me, his eyes looking into mine, and then slowly, he dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty.”

I couldn’t find my voice. My tongue was sand and my throat like a stiff dried bone. Somehow I made my fingertips move, and I motioned for him to stand.

He rose to his feet, and I swallowed again, finally conjuring some moisture to my tongue. I surveyed his rumpled clothes, dusty from a long journey. “You look more like a farmer than a grand emissary of Dalbreck,” I said.

His eyes gleamed. “And you look more like a tavern maid than the queen of Venda.”

He stepped closer.

“And what brings you so far?” I asked.

“I brought you something.”

This time it was he who motioned with his hand.

There was more shuffling in the dark hall behind him, then Orrin and Tavish walked in with wide grins plastered across their faces. Each of them held a crate filled with melons.

“I grew them myself,” Rafe said. “Mostly.”

My mind tumbled. Melons? “You are a man of many talents, King Jaxon.”

Creases deepened around his eyes. “And you, Queen Jezelia, are