The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,114

took a chance and released her, moving out of her reach, waiting for her to come at me again. Lia stepped between us.

“I told him to come, Pauline,” she said. “He’s here to help. We can trust him.”

But Pauline was incensed and still not listening. “You lied to us! We treated you with nothing but kindness and then—”

Lia continued to try to explain and calm Pauline down.

I stood there, not knowing what to say, because every word she flung at me was true—true as Pauline always was. I had traded on her kindness and trust.

“He’s changed, Pauline! You have to stop and listen to me!”

She stared at me, her eyes like glass, her chest heaving, and then suddenly she doubled over, clutching her stomach. Lia grabbed Pauline’s arm to steady her. Water seeped to the floor around her feet. Pauline groaned and then was clutched with a stronger spasm. I ran to her other side, and Lia and I both kept her from falling. Even in her pain, she tried to wrench free of me.

“The bed!” Lia yelled.

I scooped Pauline into my arms and carried her to the bare wood frame in the corner. “Get the bedroll from my horse!”

Lia ran out the door, and Pauline ordered me to put her down.

“I will,” I said. “Believe me, nothing will give me greater pleasure, as soon as Lia returns.”

Lia was back in seconds, shaking out the roll, and I laid Pauline on top of it.

“It can’t be time,” Lia said to Pauline. “You still have a month to go.”

Pauline shook her head. “It’s time.”

Lia stared at Pauline’s swollen belly, not trying to hide her alarm. “I don’t know anything about this. I’ve never—” Her gaze shot to me. “Do you—”

“No!” I said, shaking my head. “Not me. I’ve never done it either. I’ve seen horses—”

“I am not a horse!” Pauline screamed. She leaned forward in another spasm. “Berdi,” she groaned. “Go get Berdi.”

I started for the door. “Tell me where—”

“No,” Lia said, cutting me off. “Berdi would never come with you, and I can find her faster. Stay here.”

Pauline and I both protested.

“There’s no other choice!” Lia snapped. “Stay! Keep her comfortable! I’ll be right back!”

She left, slamming the door behind her.

I stared at the door, not wanting to turn and face Pauline. Babies took hours, I told myself. Sometimes days. It wasn’t more than a twenty-minute walk into town. Lia would be back within the hour. I listened to the rain, coming down louder and harder.

Pauline moaned again, and I reluctantly turned. “Do you need something?”

“Not from you!”

An hour passed, and I alternated between silently cursing Lia and worrying about what had happened to her. Where was she? Pauline’s pains were becoming stronger and more frequent. She swatted my hand away when I tried to wipe her brow with a cool cloth.

Between pains, she leveled a scrutinizing stare at me. “Last time I saw you, Lia was ordering you to go straight to hell. What dark magic did you weave to make her trust you now?”

I looked at her glistening face, damp strands of her blond hair clinging to her cheek, a loss in her eyes I had never seen before. “People change, Pauline.”

Her lip pulled up in disgust, and she looked away. “No. They don’t.” Her voice wobbled, full of unexpected sorrow instead of anger.

“You’ve changed,” I said.

She glared at me, her hands passing over her belly. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“I meant in other ways—most notably the knife you were flashing in my face.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Betrayal tends to familiarize one with weapons.”

I nodded. Yes, I thought. Sadly, it does.

“It looks like someone’s taken a weapon to your head too,” she said.

I reached behind, feeling the crusted gash on my scalp. “It would seem so,” I answered. I had passed out and slept for two straight days on the trail after vomiting up half my insides. The throbbing had eased, but it was probably what had dimmed my judgment enough to walk into an unknown cottage without my own weapon drawn. Perhaps that was a good thing, or Pauline might be lying dead on the floor now.

I walked over to the window and opened the shutter, hoping to see a glimpse of Lia and Berdi. The downpour obscured the forest beyond, and thunder rumbled overhead. I gently pressed on the back of my head, wondering how bad the gash was. Beneath the crusted patch of blood, there was still a sizable lump. It was ironic that