The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,29

that Dalbreck was without a monarch. They explained the king’s lack of public appearances as mourning for the queen. The cabinet ministers ruled discreetly while a desperate search was launched for the prince. With top officers missing along with him, they assumed he was alive but ensnared in an unauthorized but well-deserved retaliation against Morrighan. The whole kingdom was still enraged over the breaking of the contract, and they wanted retribution. When they searched Sven’s office, they’d found messages sent to Sven from the prince about a meeting in Luiseveque but could turn up nothing else besides Sven’s orders to Tavish, Orrin, and Jeb to meet there too. They feared they’d all been found out and thrown into one of Morrighan’s prisons, but careful inquiries turned up nothing. It was as if they had all vanished into thin air, but hope was never lost. Their skills were known.

When the captain finished, it was Rafe’s turn to explain. “I’ll fill you in as we ride,” Rafe told him, saying we were tired, hungry, and some of us in need of medical care.

“And those two?” the captain asked, nodding toward Griz and Kaden in the distance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth pulled. I tensed, waiting to see what he would call them. Barbarians? Prisoners? He seemed unsure himself. I prayed he wouldn’t say Rahtan or Assassin.

“Vendans,” he answered. “Whom we can moderately trust for now. We’ll keep a close watch on them.”

Moderately trust? They had just helped save our lives. For the second time. But I knew they’d done it not for Rafe’s benefit or Dalbreck’s—only mine—so I reluctantly understood his caution too.

The captain’s expression turned hard, and a deep line creased between his brows. “A platoon of ours has been missing now for weeks. We’ve been hunting down men like—”

“The platoon is dead,” Rafe said flatly. “All of them. I saw their bloody weapons and valuables brought to the Komizar. Those two weren’t involved. As I said, I’ll explain as we ride.”

The captain paled. An entire platoon dead? But he made no further comment, complying with Rafe’s wish to explain as they rode. He shot a last sideways glance at me but was too polite to ask who I was. He’d surely seen me riding in front of Rafe on his horse and probably assumed something unsavory. I didn’t want to embarrass Rafe or the captain with the truth at this point. We’d all heard what he said about the rage they still nursed toward Morrighan, but as the captain returned to his horse, his soldiers eyed me with curiosity too. With the remnants of my clan dress, and my skin still spattered with blood, I surely looked like a wild barbarian in their eyes. What on earth was their king doing riding with me?

The glances and stares didn’t escape Rafe. He looked down and shook his head.

Yes, he had much to explain.

* * *

I didn’t get even a passing moment to hold Rafe. To tell him how sorry I was. To convey any kind of sorrow at all. The convoy resumed immediately. Maybe it was just as well for Rafe to have a chance to absorb this news without words from me stirring his emotions further.

I had met his father once. Briefly. He was an old man walking up the steps of the citadelle, a limp in his gait, and he required assistance. That sight had sent terror pulsing through me. He was old enough to be my father’s father. I had assumed the worst about the age of the prince, though I knew now, it wouldn’t have mattered how old or young the Dalbreck king would have been. My terror was rooted in the reality of this man arriving in Civica to sign marriage agreements. At the sight of him, I saw my choices being crushed, my voice being silenced forever in a foreign kingdom I knew little about. I was property to be bartered like a wagon full of wine, though perhaps less precious and certainly far less enjoyed. Hush, Arabella, what you have to say doesn’t matter.

I knew this king had to have some redeeming quality for Rafe to love him and for Sven to tear up at the news, but I couldn’t forget that this king also told his son, Take a mistress after the wedding if she doesn’t suit you. Only for Rafe’s sake could I mourn him.

With thirty soldiers to escort us now, I had suggested I ride my own horse farther behind in our