The Beauty of Darkness - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,79
sword was of medium weight, well-balanced for my arm and grip. There was no doubt he had chosen every detail of my tack and weapons—from horse to shield. I buckled the sheathed sword to Walther’s baldrick and swung up on my horse.
“There’s one condition I would like to add,” Rafe said.
I knew it.
“I’d ask that you ride beside me—alone—for those twelve miles.”
I glanced warily at him. “So you can talk me out of it?”
He didn’t answer.
* * *
The caravan set out. Rafe and I rode in the middle with twenty yards between us and the riders ahead and behind—clearly a calculated margin that everyone had been forewarned not to breach. Was it to keep others from overhearing us if our voices should become raised?
Surprisingly, he said nothing, and the silence weighed on me like blankets used to sweat out a fever. He stared straight ahead, but even from the side, I could see the storm in his eyes.
It was going to be the longest twelve miles of my life.
Didn’t he think I had doubts and fears about going myself? Damn his stubbornness! Why was he trying to make this even harder for me? I didn’t want to die. But neither did I want others to die. Rafe didn’t know the Komizar the way I did. Maybe no one did. It wasn’t just that he had laid claim to my voice or that his knuckles had slammed across my face. The scent of the Komizar’s lust still clung to my skin. His desire for power would not be stopped by a damaged bridge—nor even a knife in his gut. Just as he had warned me, it was not over.
After a mile, the silence broke me. “I’ll send a note once I’m there,” I blurted out.
Rafe’s eyes remained fixed ahead. “I don’t want any more notes from you.”
“Please, Rafe, I don’t want to part this way. Try to understand. Lives are at stake.”
“Lives are always at stake, Your Highness,” he answered, his tone ripe with sarcasm once again. “For hundreds of years, kingdoms have battled. For hundreds more, battles will be waged. Your going back to Morrighan won’t change that.”
“And likewise, Your Majesty,” I snapped back, “cabinets will always bicker, generals always threaten rebellion, and kings will always prance home all lathered and puckered to appease them.”
His nostrils flared. I could almost see words blazing in his eyes, but he held them back.
After a long silence, I stirred the conversation again. I needed resolution before I was gone, and I’d heard the way he had bandied Your Highness at me as if it meant just the opposite. “I have a duty too, Rafe. Why should your duty be any more important than mine? Just because you’re a king?”
A frustrated breath hissed through his teeth. “It’s as good a reason as any of the ones you’ve offered, Princess.”
“Are you mocking me?” I eyed my canteen, remembering it could be useful for more than just drinking.
He didn’t answer.
“A storm brews, Rafe. Not a skirmish or a battle. A war is coming. A war like the kingdoms haven’t seen since the devastation.”
Anger rose off him like heat on a skillet. “And now the Komizar is even able to pluck stars from the heavens? What spell has Venda cast on you, Lia?”
This time it was I who didn’t answer. I looked away from the canteen, my fingers itching to swing it. We rode on, but he was only successful at being quiet for a short while. When he lashed out, I understood why there was such a great distance between us and the other riders. He abruptly stopped his horse, and I heard a succession of halts and whoas behind us, the whole caravan grinding to a sudden stop behind us.
His hand slashed through the air. “Do you think I’m not concerned about the Vendan army? I’m not blind, Lia! I saw what that small flask of liquid did to the bridge. But my first duty is to Dalbreck and to make sure our own borders are safe. To make right the shambles of my capital, and to make sure I even have a kingdom to go back to. I owe that much to every single citizen there. I owe it to every single soldier riding here with us today, including the ones who helped save your neck.” He paused, his eyes fiercely locked on mine. “How can you not understand that?”
His scrutiny was desperate and demanding. “I do understand, Rafe,” I answered. “That’s why I