The Kiss of Deception (The Remnant Chronicles #1) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,142

and I turned. I heard more shouts, and Kaden’s brows pulled together. He got off his horse and grabbed my arm as a group of soldiers approached. They threw a man from their midst to the ground in front of Kaden. My heart stopped. Dear gods. Kaden’s grip on my arm tightened.

“This dog says he knows you,” one of the soldiers said.

Having seen the disturbance, the chievdar rode over. “Who is this?” he demanded.

Kaden glared. “A very stupid sot. A smitten farmhand who rode a long way for nothing.”

My thoughts tumbled. How?

Rafe got to his feet. He looked at me without acknowledging Kaden. He surveyed my filthy bandaged fingers, my torn shirt exposing my shoulder, my bloodstained clothes, and certainly the grief that still lingered in my face. His eyes searched mine, questioning me silently, and I saw his worry that I had been harmed in ways that he couldn’t see. I saw that he had ached for me as much as I had for him.

The good ones don’t run away, Lia.

But now, with a new burning passion, I desperately wished he had.

I jerked against Kaden’s grip, but his fingers dug deeper into my arm. “Let go!” I growled. I yanked free and ran to Rafe, falling into his arms, crying as my lips met his. “You shouldn’t have come. You don’t understand.” But even as I said the words, I was selfishly glad he was here, wildly and madly happy that everything I felt for him and I had believed he felt for me was real and true. Tears ran down my cheeks as I kissed him. My blistered, broken fingers reached up to hold his face as I said a dozen more things I would never remember.

His arms circled around me, his face nestled in my hair, holding me so tight I could almost believe we would never part again. I breathed him in, his touch, his voice, and for a moment as long and short as a heartbeat, all of the world and its problems disappeared and there was only us.

“It will be all right,” he whispered. “I promise, I’ll get us both out of this. Trust me, Lia.” I felt soldiers tearing us apart, pulling at my hair, a sword at his chest, rough hands dragging me backward.

“Kill him, and let’s get moving,” the chievdar ordered.

“No!” I cried.

“We don’t take prisoners,” Kaden said.

“Then what am I?” I said, looking at the soldier who gripped my arm.

Rafe strained against the men who were wrestling him backward. “I have a message for your Komizar!” he shouted before they could drag him away.

The soldiers holding him stopped, surprised and unsure what to do next. Rafe shouted the message with ringing authority. I looked at him, something unfurling inside me. How did he find me? Time jumped. Lurched. Stopped. Rafe. A farmhand. From a nameless region. I stared. Everything about him looked different to me now. Even his voice was different. I’ll get us both out of this. Trust me, Lia. The ground beneath my feet shifted, unsteady, the world around me rocking. The real and true swayed.

“What’s the message?” the chievdar demanded.

“That’s for the Komizar’s ears only,” Rafe answered.

Kaden stepped closer to Rafe. Everyone waited for him to say something, but he remained silent, his head cocked slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing. I didn’t breathe.

“A message carried by a farmhand?” he finally asked.

Their gazes locked. Rafe’s icy blue eyes were frozen with hatred. “No. From the emissary of the Prince of Dalbreck. Now who’s the stupid sot?”

A soldier butted Rafe’s head with the handle of his sword. He staggered to the side, blood trickling down his temple, but regained his footing.

“Afraid of a simple message?” he taunted Kaden, his gaze never wavering.

Kaden glared back. “A message means nothing. We don’t negotiate with the Kingdom of Dalbreck—not even with the prince’s own emissary.”

“You speak for the Komizar now?” Rafe’s voice was thick with threat. “I promise you, it’s a message he’ll want.”

“Kaden,” I pleaded.

Kaden turned to me, his eyes prickled with heat, and an angry questioning gaze blazed from them.

The chievdar pushed forward. “What proof do you even have that you’re his emissary?” he sneered. “The prince’s seal? His ring? His lace handkerchief?” The soldiers around him laughed.

“Something only he would possess,” Rafe answered. “A royal missive from the princess, addressed to him in her own handwriting.” Rafe looked at me when he said it, not the chievdar, his eyes sending me his own private message. My knees