The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,58
heard pieces of the Song of Venda, a jumbled melody punctuated by my own breathless running, though in the dreams, my feet refused to move, as if they had grown into the ground beneath me, and then came the low rumble of something approaching. I felt its hot breath on my back, something hungry and determined, the refrain sounding over and over: For when the Dragon strikes, it is without mercy. I would startle awake, trying to catch my breath, my back stinging with the memory of sharp claws slicing into me, and then I would hear the Komizar’s words as clearly as if he stood beside me. If any royals survive our conquest, it will give me great pleasure to lock them up on this side of hell.
After a particularly restless night, I went into Rafe’s tent the next morning while he was still dressing. He was in the middle of shaving. I didn’t bother with greetings.
“Rafe, we have to talk about my going to Morrighan to warn them.”
He studied me in the reflection of his mirror and dipped his lathered razor in the basin to rinse it. “Lia, we’ve already talked about this. The Komizar is gravely injured or dead, and the Sanctum is in chaos with more dead. You saw how the Council was, like a pack of hungry dogs. They’re tearing each other apart right now.” He took another swipe at his neck. “And none of those left have the ability to lead any kind of army anyway.”
“For now. We hope. But I can’t take a chance on guesses. I need to go back and—”
“Lia, the bridge is destroyed. They can’t even get across.”
“Bridges can be fixed.”
He dropped the razor in the basin and turned to look at me. “What about the bounty on your head? You can’t just waltz back into Morrighan. We’ll send word. I promise.”
“Word? To whom, Rafe? There are traitors in the cabinet conspiring with the Komizar, and I don’t know how many. I wouldn’t know who to trust, and the Chancellor intercepts—”
He wiped his face with a towel. “Lia, I can’t go back to Morrighan right now. You know that. You’ve seen the turmoil my own kingdom is in. I have to settle things there first. We have time to figure this out.”
He didn’t get what I was trying to say. I knew he couldn’t go to Morrighan with me, but I saw the look in his eyes. He wanted me to trust him. Time felt like precious sips of water slipping through my fingers. His gaze was unwavering, bright, and sure. I nodded. I’d give it a few more days, out of necessity if nothing else. The physician had said Griz couldn’t ride a horse or wield a weapon yet. The long neglect of his wound made it slow to heal, but the healthy flesh was beginning to knit together—if he was careful and didn’t tear it loose again.
Rafe buckled on his scabbard and gave me a quick kiss before he left. The officers were riding out to observe training exercises. He seemed relieved to be doing something within the realm of his expertise—being a soldier—instead of arguing with Sven or Bodeen about court matters.
I stood in the doorway of his tent watching him walk away, wishing it was simply a matter of sending word to Morrighan, but I knew a messenger from Dalbreck probably wouldn’t even make it past the border alive.
* * *
The next morning, Vilah, Adeline, and Madam Rathbone brought more dresses to my tent trying to find something for me to wear for the party the next evening. After much fussing, they settled on a deep blue velvet dress—Dalbretch blue—with a silver sash. “We’ll put together the other accessories,” Vilah said. “Unless you’d prefer to?”
I left it to them to figure out as Vilah suggested. I liked a beautiful gown as well as anyone, but it was probably obvious to all of them that I didn’t fuss over the particulars of fashion.
“Do you mind if I ask—” Adeline blushed. “Never mind,” she said, shaking away her question.
“Please,” I said. “Speak freely.”
“It seems that you and King Jaxon have genuine feelings for each other, and it just made me wonder…”
“Why did you run from the wedding?” Vilah finished for her.
“They claim it was a deliberate snub planned by Morrighan all along,” Adeline added.
I refrained from rolling my eyes. “That is just bruised egos speaking,” I answered, “and a court full of men who couldn’t believe a girl