The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,157

her grandchild stories when there was nothing else to offer, stories to help a child understand a harsh world, and to keep her silent when predators drew too close.

I told them of Gaudrel’s siser, Venda, another survivor who kept her people alive with her wits, her words, and her trust. After being lured away from her family, she would not be silenced, not even by death, reaching through the centuries for hope for an oppressed people.

And I told them about Morrighan, Gaudrel’s grandchild, a girl stolen by a thief named Harik, who sold her to a scavenger for a sack of grain. Morrighan was a girl brave and true, who led the scavengers to a place of safety. She trusted the strength within her that was passed down by Gaudrel and the surviving Ancients, a knowing they turned to when they had nothing else, a seeing without eyes, a hearing without ears. Morrighan was not chosen by the gods. She was one of many who were spared, a girl like any among us, which made her bravery all the greater.

“Morrighan called on an ancient strength within her to survive—and helped others do the same. That is what we must do now.”

My gaze skimmed the plaza, the lords, and those standing on the balcony with me. My eyes paused on Rafe and my throat tightened. “Nothing lasts forever,” I continued, “and I see our end in sight.”

I leaned forward, focusing on the row of lords. “That’s right, Lord Gowan. Sight. I have seen the destruction and ruin. I have seen the Dragon bearing down on us. I have heard the crunch of bone between his jaws. I have felt his breath on my neck. He is coming, this I promise you.

“If we do not prepare now, hope is gone, and you will feel the bite of his teeth as I have. Shall we cower and wait for the Komizar to destroy us, or do we prepare and survive as our kingdom’s namesake did?”

A small voice.

Prepare.

Another, prepare.

A fist in the air, Gwyneth’s. Prepare.

The plaza ignited in shared determination to survive.

I kissed two fingers, lifting them to the heavens, one for the lost, and one for those yet to come, and called back to them, “We prepare!”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

“Your Highness.”

Rafe, Kaden, and I were just passing the plaza fountain when the general intercepted me. A dozen soldiers, including Gwyneth, Pauline, Berdi, and Jeb, came to a grinding halt behind us. The general reached out and took my hand, patting it. “Forgive me for my boldness, Princess Arabella, but I am relieved that the misunderstanding of your treason has been cleared up.”

I looked at him uncertainly, already sensing this wasn’t going to end well. I remembered him only vaguely, as one of the generals in longest service to the crown. “It wasn’t a misunderstanding, General Howland. It was a well-orchestrated lie and plot.”

He nodded, his lower lip curling in a pout. “Yes, of course it was, a plot by traitors of the worst kind, and we’re all indebted to you for exposing them. Thank you.”

“No thanks are necessary, General. Exposing treachery is the duty of every—”

“Yes,” he said quickly, “duty! And that is what we wish to talk to you about.” Generals Perry, Marques, and three other officers stood behind him. “With your father ill and your brothers away, so much has fallen on your tender shoulders. I want you to know there’s no need for you to worry yourself about military matters. I can see you’ve already gotten yourself worked up over this barbarian army, which is understandable considering what you’ve been through at their hands.”

I swallowed. No, not going well at all. Rafe and Kaden shifted dangerously on their feet beside me, but I put my hands out on either side. Wait. They got the message.

“Worked up, General?” I asked. “Have you ever met the Komizar?”

He laughed. “Barbarians! They change their rulers more often than their underclothes. Today’s Komizar is tomorrow’s forgotten gutter brat.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the other officers, sharing a small chuckle with them, then turned back to me. He tucked his chin close to his chest and angled his head, and I suspected he was ready to confide a great truth that I had overlooked. “What I am telling you is this is not something for you to fret about. You are not trained in military tactics or even in assessing threats, nor are you a soldier. No one expects you to be. You’re free to return to