The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,103

wedding day. My stomach rolled over as I remembered my frantic last minutes stealing out the servants’ door instead—the moment the sun flashed in my eyes and the day split in two creating the before and the after of my life.

I was cautious in my approach, slowing my steps and hunching my shoulders like a true grieving widow. I had bought a posy on my way.

I walked up the center of the steps, and a guard came forward to meet me. I lowered my voice, adding a slight northern accent. “For the king,” I said, holding out the posy to him, “along with my prayers for his recovery.”

He took the small bouquet of primroses from me. “I’ll see that he gets them.”

“And Prince Regan?” I added. “My prayers for him too. Is he preparing to take the throne?”

The guard cast an annoyed frown at me but quickly corrected himself. I was a widow, after all, and perhaps the widow of a soldier. “Prince Regan is away attending his duties—as is Prince Bryn. The king isn’t so ill that anyone has to worry about succession.”

A ploy, just as I thought. There was no vigil. But my brothers away from Civica?

“Both princes are traveling?” I asked.

“Attending kingdom business, like I said.” His patience was spent. “Ma’am, I need to return to my post.”

I nodded. “Bless you, son.”

On my way back to the abbey, I used a little more digging to find out where Bryn and Regan had gone. More citadelle guards, easily spotted by their long red capes, were positioned on street corners and were happy to accept gifts of sweet frosted buns from a bent widow. Both princes, along with their squads, had gone to the City of Sacraments. It wasn’t far, only a few days’ ride, but still my spirits sank. I needed them, not just as my brothers who would back me, but as soldiers I could trust. As I walked away, I thought it odd. Cabinet members—not soldiers—were usually sent on kingdom business.

When I approached a group of soldiers, I recognized one of them. I had played cards with him in one of my late-night escapes—we had jested and laughed together. My confidence rose, and I boldly teased out more details of Bryn and Regan’s purpose in going to the City of Sacraments. I learned they were to dedicate a memorial stone for the crown prince and his fallen comrades. The soldier said their presence was necessary to soothe doubts about family allegiance that the betrayal by Princess Arabella had sown.

Another of the soldiers said, “She killed her own brother, you know? Plunged the sword into his Prince Walther’s chest herself.”

I stared at him, unable to stay hunched over my cane. “No, I didn’t know.”

His utter contempt rang in my ears. Her own brother. His comrades echoed his hatred. Princess Arabella was a traitor of the worst kind. I walked away, dazed, trying to understand how the Komizar’s terrible lie about my decision to marry him could transform into something even uglier. How could anyone believe I would kill Walther? But they did, and they harbored a seething revulsion toward me.

I felt the Komizar’s hands creeping down my arms, owning me, knowing me, still playing the game from far away—there’s always more to take—knowing how best to undo me.

My stomach rose into my throat, and I ducked behind a stall. I tore my scarf away and doubled over, vomiting, tasting the Komizar’s poison. I spat and wiped my mouth. What if it wasn’t just these soldiers who believed the lie?

What if everyone did?

What if even my own brothers did?

I’d never convince anyone of anything.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

PAULINE

I had told Berdi and Gwyneth I was going to the cemetery to see if Andrés was there. Though little information had been forthcoming, no harm had come from my visits with him either. All I had learned was that he was as surprised by the death of the soldier who had brought the news of Lia’s betrayal as Bryn and Regan had been. The soldier was a close comrade, and Andrés mourned his death too. When I asked if the soldier’s hurried comments about Lia before he died could have been misinterpreted, he said he didn’t know but that his father, the Viceregent, was distressed by the news and found it hard to believe. I wanted to go speak to the Viceregent myself, but I remembered Bryn’s words. Lie low. Stay away from the citadelle.

I would for a little longer, but there were