The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,159

up considerably since his dunking yesterday.

I watched Lia. Watched every movement. Watched her pace the dais as her voice rose, reaching the last row. Watched the soldiers watching her, their attention fixed on every word. Whatever goodwill she had sown before she had left I didn’t know, but the respect the lords had halfheartedly yielded was given freely here. The soldiers listened, and I saw what I had already known, what I hadn’t wanted to accept back in Venda. She was a natural leader.

This was where she needed to be. Letting her go had been the right choice, even if the decision still burned in my gut.

She spoke again, this time getting ready to introduce Kaden, and we were all prepared for what was to come. She began her speech as she had the others, but then there was a noticeable departure—at least for some of us.

“Vendan drazhones, le bravena enar kadravé, te Azione.”

Jeb, Natiya, and Sven stood behind us, whispering a translation for those of us on the dais who didn’t know the language. Vendan brothers, I give you your comrade, the Assassin. Lia lifted Kaden’s hand with her last words, the two of them standing together as a strong unified front, then she stepped back so he could speak to the troops.

It was both trap and opportunity. We knew Vendans had infiltrated the citadelle guard, but we needed assurance they weren’t also among the ranks. The Field Marshal and other officers could vouch for the majority, but newer recruits who claimed to be from the farther reaches of Morrighan were more of an uncertainty. Lia had addressed them in Morrighese at first, but then switched tongues as effortlessly as a breath. A dozen of us stood on either side of her. It appeared we were there for support, but we had been carefully watching the soldiers, their eyes, movements, and twitches, the clues that would reveal understanding or confusion.

Kaden continued the address, not just to root out, but to appeal to Vendans like himself, who might be swayed. He and Lia had arrived at this strategy together, because Vendans working with us could be useful.

“Trust the Siarrah, my brothers,” Jeb interpreted quietly. “The Meurasi have welcomed her, as have the clans of the plains and valleys. They trust her. The Komizar is the one the Siarrah fights, not our brothers and sisters who are still in Venda. Now is your chance to step forward and fight with us. Remain silent, and you will die.”

Most of the soldiers turned to each other in confusion, not understanding the sudden change of tongue. But a few remained focused, their attention locked on Kaden.

Second row, a frozen gaze. The soldier’s pupils were pinpoints. Worried. Understanding. But he didn’t come forward.

Another on the far right.

“Third row, second from end,” Pauline whispered.

And then in the first row, a hesitant step forward.

This prompted another in the middle.

Only four.

“Back row, left end,” Lia whispered to Kaden. “Keep speaking.”

Five Vendan soldiers were found among the ranks, and with the eight citadelle guards, that totaled thirteen imposters—which in itself was a feat. Learning to speak flawless Morrighese could take years. The troops were dismissed while other soldiers moved in to detain the suspected Vendans.

With Lia’s first break in three hours, her aunt Bernette swooped in with medicine. Lia took a chug from the bottle, circles still under her eyes. I watched her wipe the corner of her mouth, the tired blink of her eyes, the leveling of her shoulders as she faced her next task—interrogating the prisoners again, hoping one would slip with information or turn on the others as the court physician had. Suddenly, Terravin was selfishly fierce within me, the air, the tastes, every moment, every word between us, and I wished we could have it again, if only for a few hours, wished I really was the farmer that she had wanted me to be, a farmer who knew how to grow melons, and she was a tavern maid who had never heard of Venda.

I watched her walk away with Kaden to speak with the Vendans, and then I left in another direction. We weren’t in Terravin and never would be again. Wishes were for farmers, not kings.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

PAULINE

The Timekeeper was beside himself. He stood off to the side of the dais, fidgeting, waiting for Lia to finish. He had been exonerated, but now he had to follow Lia instead of dictate to her. His pocket watch and ledger had become useless. Tradition and protocol