The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,48

Rafe on every front once he got back to the palace.

“When will that be, Rafe?” I hated to push the point, especially now, but I had no choice. “You know that Morrighan still needs to be warned. That I need to—”

“I know, Lia. Please just give me a few days to deal with all this first. Then we can talk about—”

Sven poked his head out the door. “Your Majesty,” he said, rolling his eyes toward the room behind him, “they grow restless.”

Rafe glanced back in my direction, lingering like he never wanted to leave. I saw the shadows that still lurked under his eyes. He’d only had a few hours of sleep when he needed a week, and had been granted only a passing moment of mourning when he needed far more. All he asked from me was a few days to juggle his new role as king, but a few days seemed like a luxury Morrighan couldn’t afford.

I nodded, and he turned and disappeared behind the door with Sven before I could even say good-bye.

* * *

I hooked the last buckle of the bodice and adjusted the belt. I was grateful that Vilah and Adeline had brought me more practical clothes—a split leather skirt, jerkin, and shirt—but they were no less luxurious than the gown I had worn last night. The embossed brown leather was so supple it felt like it might melt between my fingers.

The old broken and knotted laces had been replaced on my newly cleaned boots, and Walther’s baldrick was snug against my chest, gleaming like the day Greta had given it to him.

“A family heirloom?” Vilah asked.

They both looked at me tentatively as if they’d read something painful in my expression when I put it on. They were as kind as Captain Hague was nasty. I smiled and nodded, trying to erase any sadness they had seen. “I’m ready.”

They offered to give me a tour of the outpost, which was contained within a large oval wall. Rafe’s and my tents were just outside the officers’ housing and the dining room. They pointed out the rows of soldiers’ barracks, as we walked, the soldiers’ dining hall, the surgeon’s bungalow, and tucked between them all, the cookhouse. We came to a wide gate that led to the lower level of the outpost. After pointing out the barns, paddocks, and the cook’s garden, they showed me the mews where the Valsprey were caged. They were striking birds with white plumage, sharp claws, and an intimidating stare. Their glowing red eyes had a black slash of feathers above them. Vilah said they were swift flyers with wingspans of five feet. “They’re able to fly thousands of miles without stopping. It’s how we send messages between outposts and the capital.” When I asked if they could be sent anywhere, she said they were only trained to fly to certain destinations. Their heads turned eerily, watching us as we passed.

Below the rear wall was the river that wound behind the outpost. We circled back to the upper level and they showed me the laundry house, which was enormous. That didn’t surprise me given their love affair with clothes. Finally we found ourselves at the front of the outpost again, near Colonel Bodeen’s offices. I looked at the small, high windows and wondered what “measures” they had discussed.

“Can we go out there?” I asked, pointing to the watchtower gate. Rafe had said that vagabonds often camped near the outpost walls. I hadn’t seen Dihara’s band of wagons when we had approached yesterday, but in truth I’d seen very little besides the people flooding out to meet us. Now I wondered if she and the rest could be out there somewhere in the makeshift city.

“Of course,” Adeline said cheerfully. A small door in the massive watchtower gate was open, and as Rafe had ordered, soldiers four deep guarded it. Each one held a well-polished halberd. They let other soldiers pass through freely, but merchants were allowed only to leave messages and then were turned away.

As we approached, their halberds crossed and clicked like a well-timed machine to block us.

“James!” Adeline admonished. “What are you doing? Step aside. We’re going out to—”

“You and Vi may pass,” he replied, “but not Her Highness without an escort. King’s orders.”

I frowned. Rafe feared more Rahtan could be out there. “These ladies don’t count as my escorts?” I asked.

“Armed escorts,” he clarified.

I made an exaggerated point of looking at the daggers at each of our sides. We were