The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,57

the steps of the veranda, neither of us feeling guilty about being late for dinner, but we were both caught by surprise when we saw Kaden and Griz among the guests. Captain Hague took particular delight in whispering, “As per your orders,” as I passed him.

The timing for listening to me couldn’t have been worse, and he knew it. Rafe’s hand tensed in mine when he saw them. Making peace with Kaden was still a long way off for him. As uneasy as everyone at the table was with their presence, I knew none were as uncomfortable as Kaden and Griz. To Kaden’s credit, he avoided saying anything that might be construed as combative. He seemed contrite even, which I hoped was a sign he regretted his method of delivering “honesty.” The unsaid and the innuendo had tarnished his truth. I supposed we all needed practice at it. Truth was a harder skill to master than swinging a sword.

Even Jeb had come to dinner, refusing to be confined to bed any longer. I could only imagine the pain he’d had to endure to wriggle his arm and shoulder into the freshly pressed shirt, but he wore it with style and pride. Cruvas linen, no doubt.

Banter turned to the upcoming party plans and spirits grew lighter. Our dinner mates seemed to grow more at ease with Griz’s and Kaden’s presence—though even their smallest gestures were still monitored.

Rafe made it through the evening with considerable restraint, though several times during dinner, his hand strayed to my knee beneath the table. I think he enjoyed watching me stumble over my words. I returned the distraction when he was deep in conversation with Captain Azia. After having to begin the same sentence three times, he reached under the table and squeezed my hand, to stop me from drawing lazy circles on his thigh. Captain Azia blushed as if he knew the game we played.

* * *

The next day was crowded with more duty for Rafe. I saw the weight of it in his eyes. He’d had to muster incredible self-control back at the Sanctum, keeping up a charade day after day by playing a conniving emissary, and now he had been thrust into another new role—one that came with enormous expectation.

I was walking past his tent when I heard strained voices within. Rafe and Sven were arguing. I stooped near the curtained door to relace my boot and listen. A message had arrived saying the rotation of troops would be delayed a few days, but it also brought news of a growing rift between the assembly and the cabinet.

“That’s it,” Rafe had yelled. “We’re going back now, escort or no escort.”

Sven stood his ground. “Don’t be a damned fool! The message Bodeen sent has arrived at the palace by now. It will announce you’re alive and well and on your way, but you can’t discount the fact that enemies will also know you’re on your way. It’s too big a risk. A large escort is prudent. Knowing you’re alive is enough to calm the assembly until we get there.” Rafe’s reaction to cabinet squabbles seemed excessive, and I wondered if I had missed something, or maybe the news had simply added to his impatience.

Rafe wasn’t the only one growing impatient. With each passing day, I was more certain I needed to leave. The pull grew stronger, and I had restless dreams. In them I heard pieces of the Song of Venda, a jumbled melody punctuated by my own breathless running, though in the dreams, my feet refused to move, as if they had grown into the ground beneath me, and then came the low rumble of something approaching. I felt its hot breath on my back, something hungry and determined, the refrain sounding over and over: For when the Dragon strikes, it is without mercy. I would startle awake, trying to catch my breath, my back stinging with the memory of sharp claws slicing into me, and then I would hear the Komizar’s words as clearly as if he stood beside me. If any royals survive our conquest, it will give me great pleasure to lock them up on this side of hell.

After a particularly restless night, I went into Rafe’s tent the next morning while he was still dressing. He was in the middle of shaving. I didn’t bother with greetings.

“Rafe, we have to talk about my going to Morrighan to warn them.”

He studied me in the reflection of his mirror and dipped