The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,66

blood raced faster than a whipped horse. I was certain that at any moment he would come, his head bowed in shame, begging forgiveness for his appalling behavior.

My head throbbed, and I rubbed my temples as I wore a path on the carpet. Come to my senses? Did he even hear himself? Dear gods, had the entire camp heard us? The dining room veranda was far from the soldiers’ barracks, but the officers’ quarters were within earshot. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining all the ears pressed to windows. I knew Rafe was under strain and the additional news today of dissent back home only piled on more stress, but I was under pressure too. I hissed a frustrated breath between clenched teeth. Maybe in some small way I had gone behind his back, but it was only because I wanted to get my intentions out before he returned, making them clear and public and certain so he couldn’t discount them the way he had before. Maybe he could construe it as usurping his authority, especially at a time when he was trying to gain the confidence of those around him, but acting like an ass was no way to gain respect.

I decide. I was not a subject of Dalbreck. He would decide nothing.

Minutes passed and then an hour with still no sign of him. Was he sulking? Too ashamed to come and apologize? Maybe he was commiserating with his men over his ill-spoken words. Or contemplating what Eben had shared. Rafe wasn’t stupid. With the Komizar alive and moving forward with his plans, he had to know we were all at risk. Keeping me alive for now meant nothing if in the end we were all dead or imprisoned. Just because Morrighan was the Komizar’s first target didn’t mean that Dalbreck wouldn’t be next.

I grabbed a pillow from my bed and punched it, then threw it against the headboard.

Swordplay! I could still hear his sarcastic emphasis on play. Maybe that was what hurt most of all. His lack of belief in me, only valuing his kind of strength and not the kind I possessed. The kind that had helped save both of our necks. Kaden had earned a healthy knot on his shin when he had done the same. It wasn’t too late for me to give Rafe a knot too. Maybe he needed one on his head.

The sides of the tent shivered with the wind, and a low, distant rumble sounded as if the skies had been drawn into our tempest. I added wood chips to the stove. Where was he?

I threw aside the curtain of the tent entrance. Two guards stepped forward to block my path, crossing their halberds in front of me.

“Please, Your Highness, step back inside,” one of them asked. A wrinkle curled across his brow. He looked genuinely frightened. “I really don’t want to—” He was unwilling to finish his thought.

“Drag me back to my quarters as the king ordered?”

He nodded. The other guard fretted with the shaft of his halberd, refusing to meet my gaze. Surely they’d never had to guard a prisoner like me before, one who had been a guest of the king only hours before. For their sakes alone, I stepped back and snatched the curtain closed, growling as I did.

I snuffed the chandelier lights, and the room glowed dimly with the embers from the stove. I seethed that he hadn’t already come in here begging on bended knee. I flopped onto my bed taking off one boot, then another, then threw them across the room. Both smacked the tent wall, each small thud pathetically unsatisfying.

Anger stabbed in my throat like a painful bone I couldn’t swallow. I didn’t want to go to sleep this way. I brushed at my wet lashes, blinking away tears. Maybe I should have explained it to him in private. Could I have made him understand? But I thought of all our miles traveling from the Sanctum to here, all the times he had skillfully turned the conversation away from Morrighan. We just have to reach the outpost for now. He had done it time and time again, so smoothly I hadn’t even noticed.

Tonight he hadn’t bothered to be smooth. All I got from him was a curt, arrogant dismissal. No. No chance for discussion—

“Lia?”

I jumped up from my bed, sucking in a startled breath.

It was his voice. Just on the other side of the curtain. Low and quiet. Contrite. I knew he’d come to