The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,148

dead soldiers. With every swing of my fist, I saw Lia sitting in a dank Vendan holding cell, grieving for her dead brother. And when I drew my knife on the Viceregent, I saw only Lia, bleeding and limp in my arms. Sven had finally pulled me back.

The Viceregent dabbed his lip with his sleeve, then smirked. “I had planned on killing you both, you know? An ambush staged to look like a common robbery by Dalbretch bandits on your way back home after the wedding.”

His eyes glowed with smugness. “You think I don’t have my reasons, just as you think you have yours? Don’t we all get tired of waiting for what we want? The only difference between you and me is I stopped waiting.”

The man is insane, Sven had muttered as he stopped my fist mid-swing. Enough, he said and pushed me away. He locked the cell door behind us and then turned my attention elsewhere, reminding me that I still needed to tell Lia.

* * *

I entered the quarters that Lia’s aunt Cloris had ushered me into earlier, still feeling like an intruder. It seemed wrong to be staying in the room that Lia’s brother had once shared with his bride, Greta. Most of their belongings had been removed, but in the corner of the wardrobe I found a pair of soft kid gloves sized for a woman’s hand, and on the bedside table, two delicate pearl-tipped hairpins. I took one look at the large four-poster bed and chose to catch an hour of sleep on the settee instead. I would have preferred staying on a bedroll in Aldrid Hall, where many of my men were, but Lady Cloris insisted I take the room, and I didn’t want to begrudge her hospitality.

When I walked in, Orrin was lying sideways across my bed, asleep with his mouth hanging open and his legs dangling over the side. Jeb was spread out on the settee, his eyes closed and his hands neatly woven across his stomach. They’d both been up all night securing the citadelle and assigning posts. Only Dalbreck’s soldiers were to guard the prisoners until we were certain there were no more Vendan soldiers among the ranks. Sven was seated at a table, eating a game pie and reviewing files seized from the Viceregent’s apartments. Tavish sat at the other end, his feet propped up on the table, sifting through papers in his lap.

“Anything?” I asked.

Sven shook his head. “Nothing of import that might help us. He’s a clever devil.”

I grabbed a boiled egg from a tray of food and washed it down with milk.

“Did you tell her?” Tavish asked.

Both Jeb and Orrin opened their eyes, waiting for an answer too.

I nodded.

“She needed to know, boy,” Sven said. “Better to hear it from you than have it spill out at an inopportune time.”

I looked at him, incredulous. “She’s going to address the assembly today. Now is a bad time.”

“So there was no good time. It still had to be done. It’s behind you now.”

It would never be behind me. Her dazed expression when I told her cut a hole through me.

I shook my head trying to blot the memory out. “It’s not an easy thing to tell the girl that you love more than life itself that you’re going to marry someone else.”

Sven sighed. “Easy things are for men like me. The difficult choices are left to kings.”

“The general’s a conniving bastard,” Orrin said, yawning, “who needs an arrow in his tight ass.”

Jeb sat up and grinned. “Or I could take care of him quietly. Just say the word.” He made a clicking sound—the snap of a neck—as if showing how quickly it could be done.

It was only a show of solidarity. I knew neither would ever assassinate a legitimate officer of Dalbreck, nor would I let them—though it was tempting.

“And what would you do about the general’s daughter? Kill her too?”

Orrin snorted. “All she needs is one look at my pretty face, and she’d call it off with you. Besides, I’m an archer. I bring home dinner. What do you have to offer?”

“Besides a kingdom?” Sven mumbled.

“You could call it off and try to weather it out,” Tavish offered.

Sven sucked in a breath, knowing the consequence. My position in Dalbreck was precarious. Weathering it out was a risky option. I had everything to lose and nothing to gain. The betrothal was the general’s victory and my own private hell—the cost of saving Lia’s life. And while the