The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,109
queen appeared in the abbey bell tower. Open your hearts to the truth.
“Are you certain that’s the queen?” Gwyneth asked.
A nagging doubt that had prowled behind my breastbone was set free by her question. “She’s impossible to see from here,” I answered, still trying to puzzle it out, “but she does wear the royal cloak.”
“What about her voice?”
And that was the strange part. Yes, her voice was like the queen, but it was also a voice that seemed like a hundred I had known, a timeless sound, like the wind in the trees. It passed through me as if it held a truth of its own.
Gwyneth shook her head. “That’s not the queen up there.”
Then Berdi voiced the impossible, what we were all thinking. “It’s Lia.”
I knew it was true.
“Thank the gods she is alive, but why is she posing as the queen?” Gwyneth wondered aloud.
“Because the queen is revered,” Berdi answered. “Who would listen to the most wanted criminal in Morrighan?”
“And she is preparing us,” I said. But preparing us for what, I didn’t know.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Only a midnight moon gave contour to the room. Dim gray defined the lines of the ornate pewter goblet in my hand. I set it back in the curio cabinet, alongside other mementos from years of service. A medallion from Eislandia, a gilded sea shell from Gitos, a sculpted jade bear from Gastineux. Unique tokens from every kingdom on the continent, except of course Venda, with whom there were no diplomatic relations. The Viceregent’s duties as consul took him on many long trips. I hadn’t seen him complain, but the pleasure he expressed upon returning home had said much about the hardships of his travel.
I closed the door of the cabinet and sat in a chair in the corner. Waiting. The darkness offered quiet comfort. I could almost forget where I was, except for the sword lying across my lap.
I was running out of options. It was getting harder to sneak through the citadelle, and by the fourth evening, I’d had to switch to the abbey. The citizens found me there. No doubt the cabinet would have guards stationed at the abbey tonight too.
The first night I had said remembrances over the portico, it was a miracle that I had gotten away at all. I was more careful now, but that night I was reckless and undone. My stomach had twisted into knots. All my carefully planned words had vanished. After seeing my mother with the Royal Scholar, grief had slashed through me like a sharp knife, shredding everything I had hoped for: A tearful reunion. A long-earned explanation. A misunderstanding. Something.
Instead I found the Royal Scholar standing at my mother’s side, and got an admission of conspiracy and a guard drawing his sword. Thirty mad seconds with her became a betrayal of the worst kind, and the most painful and perplexing thing of all was, I still ached for her.
I heard footsteps in the outer chamber. I adjusted my grip on the sword. I had nothing to lose by this meeting and maybe something to gain, however small. I’d already searched the Chancellor’s and Royal Scholar’s offices, hoping to turn up some sort of evidence. A letter. Anything. The rooms were suspiciously clean and orderly, as if they’d already been scoured and emptied of anything incriminating. I even searched the ashes of their hearths, knowing that was how they’d tried to make things disappear in the past, and found small bits of charred paper but nothing more.
The Viceregent’s office was cluttered, his desk a busy sea of papers clamoring for his attention, a half-finished letter to the trade minister, and some commendations ready for his signature and seal. Nothing had been scoured here.
The footsteps drew closer and the office door opened, a triangle of yellow briefly illuminating the floor before it was shut out again. He crossed the room, his footfalls light, and a faint scent swept in with him. Cologne? I had forgotten about the perfumed and pampered smells of court. In Venda the Council mostly smelled of sweat and sour ale. I heard the soft whoosh of the thickly upholstered chair as he sat, and then he lit a candle.
He still didn’t see me.
“Hello, Lord Viceregent.”
He startled and began to stand.
“No,” I said softly but firmly. “Don’t.” I stepped into the light so he could see my sword casually resting over my shoulder.
He eyed the weapon and returned to his seat, saying simply, “Arabella.”