The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,197

still need you.

Whenever we argued over some matter now, he reminded me of my confession—that I needed him. It was true. I did. And not just as an adviser.

The Morrighese had kindly deposited him back on our doorstep as soon as he was able to travel. I kept his days short. He still tired easily, but it was a miracle he was alive at all.

After the battle in Sentinel Valley, the long ride back to Dalbreck had given General Draeger and me plenty of opportunities to talk. He told me he was having second thoughts about the betrothal. His daughter was young and bright and creative, and the weight of such a contract might hamper her growth and dampen her spirit. She was only fourteen, after all. With the defeat of the Komizar and my return to Dalbreck assured, the betrothal would prove a distraction to the work ahead of us, and the good of the kingdom was all that mattered, and would I find it mutually agreeable to dissolve the contract?

I had mulled it over, for about five seconds, and agreed.

When the assembly adjourned at last, I returned to my office. Commerce was brisk once again, and the coffers were healthy, in part due to an arrangement with Morrighan, no doubt strongly suggested to them by the queen of Venda. The port of Piadro was granted to Dalbreck in return for ten percent of our profits. It was a beneficial arrangement for both of us.

“Another message has arrived from the Keep of Venda.”

Lia’s right-hand man. Kaden. No doubt he was asking for another escort, more supplies, more of something. But I knew they needed it and wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary. Lending a helping hand to their resettlement benefited all the kingdoms.

“Give him whatever he wants.”

“She wants, you mean.”

Yes, she. I knew the requests ultimately came from Lia. But she called equally on the other kingdoms for help too, and we knew the Lesser Kingdoms followed the leads of Morrighan and Dalbreck. We spoke only in messages through our emissaries. It made it easier for both of us. But I heard the reports. Venda was thriving under her reign. I wasn’t surprised. One of their farming settlements was being established just beyond our borders. It made some citizens nervous, but I worked to reassure them. Venda was not the Venda it used to be.

“The Keep has included something with this message. You might want to take a look at it.”

“Whatever it is—”

“Take a look.”

He laid a small package on my desk that was wrapped in cloth and tied up with string, then shoved the message into my hand.

Wagons.

Grain.

Escorts.

The list went on and on. The usual requests.

But at the end, a note from the Keep:

I found this stuffed behind a manger in Berdi’s loft. I think it belongs to you.

“Shall I open it?” Sven asked.

I stared at the package for a long while.

I am yours, and you are mine, and no kingdom will ever come between us.

A very long while.

I knew what was in it.

Something white.

Something beautiful.

Something that had been tossed out long ago.

“Jaxon?”

“No,” I said. “You can throw it away.”

Journey’s end. The promise. The hope.

Gather close my brothers and sisters.

Today is the day a thousand dreams will be born.

We have touched the stars and the dust of possibility is ours.

For once upon a time, three women were family

As we are now, and they changed the world

With the same strength we have within us.

We are part of their story,

And a greater one that still lies ahead.

But the work is never over.

Time circles. Repeats.

And we must not only be ready,

For the enemy without,

But also the enemy within.

Though the Dragon rests for now,

He will wake again,

And roam the earth,

His belly ripe with hunger.

Lest we repeat our history,

Let the stories be passed

From father to son, from mother to daughter,

For with but one generation,

History and truth are lost forever.

And so shall it be,

Sisters of my heart,

Brothers of my soul,

Family of my flesh,

For evermore.

—The Song of Jezelia

CHAPTER NINETY

I tidied up the papers on my desk and looked out the windows of the gallery. A spring shower had left puddles on the veranda. They reflected the towers of a city that didn’t look so dark anymore.

It was my first time alone in months, and I didn’t quite know what to do with the freedom. I had said good-bye to my mother and father this morning. They were returning to Morrighan. Regan had ruled during my father’s absence. Bryn was there too. Mother said he had