The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,123

confront his father.

I looked around, walking to the other end of the porch. “Where about Berdi and Natiya? Where are they?”

“They went to town while there was a break in the weather for more supplies.” She ran her hand along one side of the crate. “It will make a decent enough cradle for now—at least when there aren’t arms to hold the baby.”

“It seems there will always be plenty of those available. Gwyneth has hardly let the baby out of her grip.”

Pauline sighed. “I noticed. I hope it’s not painful for her. I’m sure it stirs memories in her of all the times she didn’t get to hold her own baby.”

“She told you?” I asked, surprised that Gwyneth had shared what I’d thought was a closely guarded secret. I had only guessed because I’d seen the way she looked at Simone back in Terravin. A tenderness had sprung to her face that she had for no one else.

“About Simone?” Pauline shook her head. “No, she refuses to talk about it. She loves that little girl more than air itself, but at the same time, that love is what grips her with fear. I think that’s why she keeps her distance.”

“Fear of what?”

“She desperately doesn’t want the father to find out that Simone even exists. He’s not a good man.”

“She told you who he was?”

“Not exactly. But Gwyneth and I have found this strange place of truth. There’s a lot that we share without ever saying a word.” She untied her damp apron and hung it to dry beside the crate. “The Chancellor is Simone’s father.”

My jaw dropped. I knew Gwyneth had some unsavory connections, but I never suspected one of them to be so high in the food chain. She had good reason to be afraid. I turned, cursing in Vendan to spare Pauline’s ears and a penance.

“You can curse in Morrighese,” she said. “No penance required. I’ve probably said the same thing myself. Or worse.”

“You, Pauline?” I grinned. “Wielding knives and cursing? My, how you’ve changed.”

She laughed. “Funny, I was just thinking the very same about you.”

“For better or worse?”

“You are who you needed to become, Lia. We’ve both changed out of necessity.” A wrinkle darkened her brow. She noticed my riding leathers beneath my cloak for the first time. “Going somewhere?”

“Now that the rain has let up, people will be in the streets again. I can pass unnoticed, and Bryn and Regan are surely back by now. I want to—”

“They won’t be back yet.”

“The City of Sacraments is only a few days’ ride, and dedicating a memorial stone doesn’t take but a day. Bryn and Regan won’t—”

“Lia, I think you misunderstood. They’re going to more cities after that, and then on to the Lesser Kingdoms. Regan to Gitos and Bryn to Cortenai. They’re on a diplomatic mission ordered by the Field Marshal.”

“What are you talking about? Princes don’t go on diplomatic missions. They’re soldiers.”

“I questioned it too, especially with your father ill. It doesn’t follow protocol. But Bryn thought it was important, and your father approved it.”

All the way to the Lesser Kingdoms? My heart plummeted. That could mean weeks of waiting that we couldn’t afford. But I couldn’t march into the conclave without them.

I shook my head. A diplomatic mission. I knew how Bryn and Regan hated such things. I could picture Regan rolling his eyes. The only part he would like was riding in the open—

My throat tightened.

They were asking a lot of questions, trying to get at the truth.

Just like Walther had. I’ll discreetly nose around.

Which made them a liability.

“What’s wrong?” Pauline asked.

I grabbed the porch post to steady myself. A visit to a Lesser Kingdom would mean days of traveling across the Cam Lanteux. They’d be unsuspecting and easy targets. My heart went cold. They weren’t on a mission. They were headed into another ambush. The princes were being eliminated—along with their questions.

My father would never have approved this. Not if he knew.

“It’s an ambush, Pauline. Bryn and Regan are headed into an ambush—the same as Walther. They have to be stopped before it’s too late. I have to go tell my father. Now.”

And I ran for the citadelle, praying it wasn’t already too late.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

KADEN

“Hello, Andrés.”

I had promised Lia I wouldn’t confront my father. I’d said nothing about my brother.

I’d heard Pauline wonder aloud to Gwyneth if it could have been Andrés who had followed her to the inn and alerted the Chancellor to where they were staying. Pauline hadn’t revealed her identity