The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,169

selfishly wondered how many soldiers were in a Dalbretch battalion. In Morrighan, a battalion consisted of four hundred soldiers. Once here, would his men stay and help us?

I knew the same thought had simmered in Kaden’s mind, and then between bites of his brisket and bread, the Field Marshal suddenly spoke aloud the question that we all had on our minds—would Dalbreck send more troops to help Morrighan? The room fell silent.

The question had already been asked. Rafe had maintained since his arrival in Civica that he and his men were there only to help root out traitors, stabilize our kingdom, and help us prepare our forces for a possible invasion. The Field Marshal had put Rafe in an awkward position by asking again. Dalbreck was in jeopardy too. Rafe had his own borders to think about, not to mention his own troubled reign. He had already risked much just in coming here. I saw Sven’s focus sharpen, waiting to see what he would say.

Rafe studied me, weighing his answer carefully, then looked back at the Field Marshal. “When I sent the message to Fontaine, I also made a request for troops.”

Expressions around the table brightened.

“How many?” Marques asked.

“All of them.”

Sven leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It’s our largest outpost. That’s six thousand soldiers.”

A few hushed seconds passed.

“Well. That’s—” The Field Marshal’s brows were slivered moons above his wide eyes.

“Remarkable!” Howland finished.

“And very much welcomed,” Marques added.

“I made a similar request to Marabella,” Rafe added. “They’ll pick up troops at two more outposts along the way. That’s another two thousand. I’m certain they’ll all come, as long as the Valsprey got there without incident. I can’t make a promise about the rest.”

I wasn’t sure we had heard him right. “The rest?” I said, as stunned as everyone else.

Sven stood, his hands pressed against the table. “The rest?”

“The thirty-two thousand troops still in Dalbreck that I’m pulling from our borders. As I said, I can’t promise they’ll come. The transition of power has had some obtacles. The general I had to request the troops from is also the one who recently challenged me. He might use this request as a way to resume his campaign for the throne. It’s unlikely, though—” Rafe looked at me, hesitating.

“Because you’re betrothed to his daughter,” I finished.

Rafe nodded.

“Unlikely?” Sven stared at Rafe in disbelief, his eyes blazing, then turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Rafe nodded at Tavish to go after him, and Tavish left too.

There was a quiet lull, officers staring at the door, Sven’s anger still hovering in the air, and then the Field Marshal looked back at Rafe. I saw the doubt in his eyes. Helping a princess with a rebellion to expose traitors was one thing, but a king abandoning his own borders was an act of insanity. “Why in the gods names would you do that? It will leave your own borders vulnerable.”

Rafe’s composure didn’t falter. “I have no doubt the Komizar will attack Dalbreck—but not before he attacks Morrighan. He’s coming here first.”

“So the princess has said, but how can you be certain that—”

“It’s a calculated risk. Not bringing my troops here is the greater risk. It could spell our own destruction. From a strategic standpoint, you have the ports and resources to take over every other western kingdom. Once the Komizar has Morrighan, he’s unstoppable.”

He paused, his eyes briefly searching mine. “But it’s far more that makes me certain. Someone once asked me if I ever felt something deep in my gut.” He looked back at the Field Marshal, then skimmed the walls around us and the ancient mural that told the story of the girl Morrighan, his gaze rising to the ceiling, the stones, and it seemed, the mortar of the centuries that held it all together. “This is the jewel the Komizar hungers for. Morrighan is the oldest kingdom—the one that gave birth to all the others. It has never fallen. It’s a symbol of greatness—but more than that, it’s the kingdom the gods ordained from the beginning. To the Komizar, conquering Morrighan is the same as conquering the gods. I saw that desire in his eyes when I was in Venda, and he will settle for nothing less.”

We sat there for long stunned seconds, and I knew Rafe had perceived the Komizar’s ambitions with amazing clarity.

“Thank you, King Jaxon,” I finally said. “However many may come, each soldier will make us stronger, and for each one we will