The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,198

wrestled with the loss of his leg, but was getting stronger and riding his horse again. This had opened up a new world to him, and now he hoped to come see mine—maybe the following spring.

My father was a changed man, not just by the events of these past months, but also by his journey here, seeing a world he hadn’t had time for before. I didn’t want to become that person who was so caught up in the details of my duty that I didn’t live in the world that I governed.

I walked the streets of Venda every day. I shared cups of thannis on street corners. I shopped at the jehendra, listened to stories at the washbasins, and conferred with the new quarterlords chosen by the clans. I attended their weddings. Danced at their celebrations. I fell into the rhythms of a world and people who were coming to life again.

In the past months, I had traveled to every province in Venda, meeting with the people and appointing new governors. At least half were women and elders of the clans. From this point forward, they would lose their positions by the will of the people, not by a sword in their back, and that was how I would maintain my position as well.

The work and the decisions never ended. With Dalbreck and Morrighan leading by example, the Lesser Kingdoms agreed to new treaties and contributed to the settlements in the Cam Lanteux. It didn’t come without some resistance, but Morrighan and Dalbreck provided escorts to contingents of Vendan settlers. The first crops had been planted, and hope was blooming. The fruit of the work kept me going.

I couldn’t have done any of it without Kaden. He worked tirelessly. All the compassion and tenderness he had gotten from his mother was finally able to shine, but the scars inside him were still there, just like the ones on his back. I saw it when he held Rhys, protective, his reflexes quick, as if no hand would ever scar the skin or soul of this child. I hoped he was right.

I knocked on the door of his meeting chamber, and when there was no answer, I went inside. All traces of the Komizar were gone—except for the table with the gash in it that had marked the Komizar’s rise to power. Kaden’s desk was piled as high with papers as mine was. I added more to his pile—a proposed trade agreement with Eislandia.

To help the settlements, we had refitted the Komizar’s army city for other purposes. The smelteries, the forges, and the cooperages were now busy supplying tools for farming and trade. The testing fields—those we had left to the seasons to erase—the scars and rubble of destruction slowly being swallowed up by wind, rain, grass, and time.

The giant golden brezalots that had survived were freed. Now they grazed in herds on distant hilltops, and I saw them in a new way, as the beautiful and majestic creatures they were meant to be. If I ventured too close, if I saw the steam of their hot breaths or heard the pounding of their great hooves, terror would still flash through me, along with the memory of mangled bodies and the smell of burning flesh. Some scars took longer to heal than others, and some scars, I knew, were necessary. Some things you should never forget.

“Looking for me?”

I turned. Kaden stood in the doorway with Rhys on his hip.

“That baby’s almost a year old,” I said. “He’s never going to learn to walk if his feet never touch the ground.”

Kaden smiled. “He’ll learn soon enough.”

I told him about the additional paperwork I had left for him, and he took it in stride. He was everything I could ask for in a Keep—calm and steady, devoted. Loyal.

“Where’s Pauline?” I asked.

His eyes lit up. “Hunting down Eben and Natiya.”

I knew Pauline would prevail and find them. She was determined that everyone would learn how to read and write the language, which she herself was studying. She had begun morning lessons for them and anyone else she could wrangle. I didn’t tell Kaden I had seen them in the work yard, battling with practice swords. The competition between them was fierce, but there was a playfulness too, and when I heard them chide and laugh at each other, my heart lifted, seeing that small glimpse of the children in them return. I prayed more would come with time.

“I was just saying good-bye to Griz,”