The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,22
that’s what you want to hear.”
My eyes stung. I wanted far more than that. “What I want is to watch you beg for your release. To desperately bargain for your life like I had to.”
He sighed.
“That’s all I get? A sigh?”
“I know that you suffered, Lia, but I did what I thought was right at the time. I can’t take back what I’ve done. I can only try to make amends.”
I choked on the word. I knew bitterly the cost of trying to make amends, and how pathetically they could fall short. When Greta died, I thought it was all my fault as I tried to make amends, but now I realized I hadn’t even known the rules of the game I’d been drawn into, nor all the players—like the traitors back in Civica. My amends would have changed nothing. The lies went on and on. Just like Kaden’s lies.
“You lied to me about the footbridge,” I said. “It was there all along.”
“Yes. Four miles north of the Brightmist gate. It’s not there anymore. We cut it down.”
Four miles? We could have gotten there on foot.
I leaned back on the rock. “So what cunning story did you spin to get them to spare your lives? I’m sure it was an excellent one. You’re the master of deceit, after all.”
He studied me, his brown eyes as dark and deep as night. “No,” he said. “Not anymore. I think that title has fallen to you.”
I looked away. It was a title I would gladly embrace if it could get me what I needed. I stared at the firelight dancing across the steel of the sword, both edges equally sharp and gleaming. “I did what I had to do.”
“All those things you told me? Only what you had to do?”
I stood, the sword still in my hand. I wasn’t going to get wrangled down a path of guilt. “Who sent you, Kaden?” I demanded. “Why are you here? Was it Malich?”
A disgusted smirk twisted his lip.
“Say it,” I said.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, Lia, we were outnumbered that day on the terrace. We barely escaped with our lives. Faiwel died. So did the other guards who fought by our sides. Griz and I managed to fight our way down to a portal on the lowest level, and we sealed the door behind us. From there we hid in various abandoned passages for three days. When they couldn’t find us, they assumed we had escaped on another raft.”
“And just how would you know what they assumed? Or that there was a squad sent after us?”
“One of the passages we hid in was next to Sanctum Hall. We heard the Komizar shouting orders, one of which was to find you.”
My knees turned to water. I stared at Kaden, the cavern suddenly spinning with shadows. “But he’s dead.”
“He could be by now. He was weak, but Ulrix called for healers. They were caring for him.”
My legs gave way, and I dropped to the floor. I saw the Komizar’s eyes drilling into me, the dragon refusing to die.
“Lia,” Kaden whispered, “untie me. Please. It’s the only way I can help you.” He scooted closer, until our knees almost touched.
I tried to focus but instead I was smelling the salty blood that had spilled to the terrace, seeing the shine of Aster’s eyes, hearing the chants of the crowd, feeling the icy grip of the knife as I pulled it from its sheath, the day coming to life again, the disbelief that had swept over me, the seconds that changed everything, the Komizar crumpling to the ground, and my naïve hope swelling that it could really be over.
Words, dry as chalk, lay on my tongue. I swallowed, searching for saliva, and finally managed a hoarse whisper. “What happened to the others, Kaden? Calantha, Effiera, the servants?” I rattled off another half dozen names of those who had been sympathetic to me, those who had looked at me with hopeful eyes. They had expected something from me that I didn’t deliver. A promise they were still waiting for.
His brow furrowed. “Most likely dead. Clans who cheered your succession in the square suffered losses. It was a message. I don’t know the numbers, but at least a hundred were slaughtered. All of Aster’s clan, including Effiera.”
My thoughts whirled. “Yvet and Zekiah?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to know the answer. “And Eben?”
“I don’t know.” But the tone of his voice held little hope. He glanced at my