The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,92
at the time. I was trying to give you hope.
I turned away from Otto, my bitterness surging. Rafe had given me false hope and wasted my time. I walked inside the barn and stared at the ladder to the loft, then finally climbed it. The loft was dim, a few stray beams of light slipping through the rafters. Two mattresses still lay on the floor, never stored after our hasty departure. A forgotten shirt hung from the back of a chair. A dusty carafe was perched on a table in the corner. At the far end were stacks of crates—and an empty manger. My heart hammered as I walked toward it. Don’t look, Lia. Leave it alone. You don’t care. But I couldn’t stop myself.
I inched the manger forward so I could see behind it. It was there, just as he had told me, a pile of soiled white cloth. My tongue bloomed thick and salty, and the room grew suddenly stuffy, making it hard to breathe. I reached down and lifted it from its hiding place. Bits of straw rained to the floor. It was torn in several places, and the hem was stained with mud. Brick-red blood smeared the fabric. His blood. That was where he’d gotten the nicks on his hands, ripping it loose from the thorny brambles where I had thrown it. The dress made me wonder about the girl who had worn it. The same dress I had torn so hatefully from my back and tossed away. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor. I held the dress to my face, trying to block Rafe out, but all I could see was him tearing it from the brambles, stuffing it in his bag, wondering about me the way I had wondered about him. But I had wondered all the wrong things.
I had imagined him only as a gutless papa’s boy. Not as—
“Lia? Are you all right?”
I looked up. Kaden was standing at the top of the ladder.
I scrambled to my feet and threw the dress behind the manger again. “Yes, I’m fine,” I answered, keeping my back to him.
“I heard something. Were you—”
I wiped my cheeks, then ran my hands down the front of my shirt before I turned to face him. “Coughing. The dust is thick up here.”
He walked over, the floor creaking beneath his steps, and he looked down at me. He swiped his thumb along my wet lashes.
“It’s only the dust,” I said.
He nodded, and his arms slipped around me, holding me close. “Sure. Dust.” I let myself lean against him. He stroked my hair, and I felt the ache in his chest as strongly as I felt it in my own.
* * *
It was late. Natiya was already tucked into bed in the cottage, and Enzo was asleep in Berdi’s room. Kaden and I sat in the kitchen while I grilled him on any other details he might know of the Komizar’s plans, but I sensed he was occupied with other thoughts. I was grateful he hadn’t brought it up again, but I knew our moment in the barn weighed on him. It had been only a passing tired minute that caught me off guard. That was all. After a bowl of fish stew that was surprisingly almost as good as Berdi’s, I felt fortified, ready to move forward.
Now Kaden patiently endured questions I had already asked. His answers were the same. He knew only of the Chancellor. Maybe he and the Royal Scholar were the only traitors in the cabinet. Was that possible?
My relationships with all of the cabinet members were rocky at best, except perhaps for the Viceregent and the Huntmaster. Those two had usually offered a smile and kind word when I entered a room instead of a dismissive scowl, but the cabinet post of Huntmaster was mostly ceremonial, a vestige from an earlier time when filling the larder was foremost among cabinet duties. Most of the time, he didn’t even sit in on cabinet meetings. The royal First Daughter was granted a ceremonial seat as well, but my mother had rarely been invited to the cabinet table.
My thoughts jumped back to the Viceregent. “Pauline will go to him first,” I told Kaden. “Of all the cabinet, he’s always had the most sympathetic ear.” I chewed on my knuckle. Frequent travel was part of the Viceregent’s job, visiting other kingdoms, and I worried that he might very well be gone. If so, Pauline would go straight