The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,172

much effort and waved Rafe closer with a crooked finger. “You here to take over my kingdom?”

“No, sir, only to assist.” It was clear my father was still very weak, and I knew Rafe measured his words carefully. I also detected a certain nervousness in his response, and Rafe was never nervous. It made my breath catch.

“Come closer. Let me get a better look at you.”

Rafe stepped forward and fell to one knee at his bedside.

“What are you on your knee for?” my father growled. “One king doesn’t bow to another. Your steward didn’t teach you that?” His eyes danced, and he briefly glanced at me before turning back to Rafe. “Unless you’re on bended knee for another reason? If that’s the case, you’re facing the wrong person.”

Oh, dear gods. He was toying with Rafe. This was not my father. Had the poison addled his brain?

“No other reason,” Rafe said, and quickly returned to his feet.

My father waved Rafe back.

“And you must be the Assassin,” he said to Kaden. He waved Kaden forward in similar fashion. Kaden did not fall to a knee, but I knew he wouldn’t. He would never have bowed to royalty, even if it cost him his life. My father didn’t seem to notice the snub and studied Kaden. He swallowed, and I saw a glimmer of regret in his expression, as if he saw the resemblance between Kaden and the Vicergent. “I knew about you. Your father told me your mother took you away.”

“Deception has always been his strength,” Kaden answered.

My father’s chest rose in a ragged breath. “And yours too, I understand.”

I glanced at Pauline. She had been in on the briefing, but had she told him about Terravin?

“You here to kill anyone, boy?”

A faint grin lit Kaden’s eyes. He was ready to play this game with my father. “Only on your daughter’s orders.”

“She order you to kill me?”

Kaden shrugged. “Not yet.”

My father’s eyes sparked, the game invigorating him, bringing him back to life. His gaze turned to me. He scowled again. “You disobeyed my orders, Arabella, and I understand you bartered off the wedding cloak jewels that have been in our family for generations. You must be punished.”

Generals Howland and Perry shifted happily on their feet.

“Your Majesty,” Rafe intervened, “if I may—”

“No you may not!” my father snapped. “This is still my kingdom, not yours. Step back, King Jaxon.”

I nodded to Rafe, trying to assure him. Wait.

My father settled back against his pillows. “And your punishment is that you will continue to reign in my stead, enduring all the endless absurd peckings of the office until I am fully recovered. Do you accept your punishment, Arabella?”

My throat was thick, aching. I stepped forward. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do.” I swallowed and then added, “On one condition.”

Surprised mumbles erupted.

Even in his weak state, my father managed to roll his eyes. “A condition on your punishment? You haven’t changed, Arabella.”

“Oh yes, Father, I most definitely have.”

“The condition?”

“You will support me in whatever I decide, because there are many hard decsions that still lie ahead—and some of them will not be popular with everyone.”

“Unpopular like the coup?”

“Yes, that unpopular.”

“Then I approve your condition.” He looked past me at everyone else. “I am confident that Arabella will meet her punishment to my full satisfaction. Does anyone object?”

No one spoke, though I knew words silently raged on some tongues.

“Good,” my father said. “Now everyone out. I want to speak to my daughter. Alone.”

* * *

As soon as the room was emptied and I turned back to him, I saw that his performance had drained him. He sank deeper into the pillows, weaker than before.

His eyes glistened. “I am sorry, Arabella.”

I curled up on the bed beside him, nestling my head on his chest, and he managed to put his arm around my shoulder and pat my arm. He apologized for many things, not the least of which was becoming so weary of his position that he allowed corruption to creep in right beneath his nose.

“I’ve failed as a father and as a king.”

“We all make mistakes, Father. Hopefully, we learn from them and move forward.”

“How did you end up with an assassin and newly crowned king as your confidantes?”

“The gods have a wicked sense of humor.”

“And you trust them?”

I smiled, thinking of all the deceptions and betrayals that had passed between us. “With my life,” I answered.

“Is there anything more to this union?”

Far more, I thought. Maybe more than any of us really understood.

Together they will attack,

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