The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,89

Since Terravin was on the way to Civica, we had decided it would be our first stop. It would give us a place to clean up and properly wash our clothes, which reeked of smoke, sweat, and weeks on the trail. A distant whiff of us alone could attract attention, and that was something we didn’t need. More important, I owed Pauline and the others a visit so they could have some assurance after all these months that I was all right. They might have news to share too that could be useful—especially Gwyneth, with her questionable cadre of contacts.

“Why hang back now?” I asked. “We’re nearly there.”

Kaden shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “So you can let Pauline know I’m with you. You know, prepare her.”

For the first time, I thought I glimpsed fear in Kaden’s face. I drew my horse closer. “Are you afraid of Pauline?”

He frowned. “Yes.”

I sat there stunned. I wasn’t sure what to say to this admission.

“Lia, she knows I’m Vendan now, and the very last words I said to her threatened her life—and yours. She’s not going to forget that.”

“Kaden, you threatened Rafe’s life too. That didn’t make you afraid of him.”

He looked away. “That was different. I never liked Rafe, and he never liked me. Pauline’s an innocent who—” He stopped short, shaking his head.

An innocent who had once thought highly of him. I had seen the kindnesses exchanged between them, and their easy conversation. Perhaps seeing her one-time regard for him plummet into hate was a last straw he couldn’t bear. He had already experienced that with Natiya, who while civil now, was still cool toward him. She would never forget the Vendan attack on her camp, nor that he was one of them. It seemed Kaden was in much the same position as me—there were only a handful of people on the entire continent who didn’t want to see him dead. I remembered the terror in Pauline’s eyes when Kaden dragged us into the scrub, and then her pleas for him to let us go. No, she wouldn’t forget, but I prayed she hadn’t nursed the terror of that day into hatred during all these long months.

Kaden took a drink from his canteen, draining the last sip. “I just don’t want to risk creating a scene inside the tavern when she sees me,” he added.

It was more than worry over a disturbance, and we both knew it. It was strange to see him rattled by a simple encounter with someone as harmless as Pauline.

“We’ll go in through the kitchen door,” I said to appease him. “Pauline is reasonable. She’ll be fine once I explain. In the meantime, I’ll keep myself between you, her, and the kitchen knives.” I added the last part as a jest to lighten his mood, but he didn’t smile.

Natiya spurred her horse forward beside mine. “What about me?” she asked. “Shall I help you protect the trembling Assassin?” She said it loud enough for Kaden to hear, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Kaden shot her a warning look to be careful how far she pushed him.

My heart fluttered with anticipation as we got closer, but as soon as the tavern came into view, I knew something was wrong. Fear jumped between the three of us like fire. Even Natiya sensed something was amiss, though she’d never been here before.

“What is it?” she asked.

It was empty. Silent.

There were no horses tethered at posts. No laughter or conversation came from the dining room. There were no tavern guests, and it was the dinner hour. The sickening pall of quiet held the inn like a shroud.

I jumped from my horse and ran up the front steps. Kaden was right behind me, telling me to stop, yelling something about caution. I flung open the door, only to find chairs stacked on tables.

“Pauline!” I yelled. “Berdi! Gwyneth!” I traversed the dining room in leaps and pushed open the kitchen door, sending it slamming against the wall.

I froze. Enzo stood behind the chopping block, a cleaver in hand, his mouth gaping as wide as the fish he was about to behead.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where is everyone?”

Enzo blinked, then took a harder look at me. “What are you doing here?”

Kaden drew his knife. “Set it down, Enzo.”

Enzo looked down at the cleaver still poised in his fist, first surprised and then horrified to see it there. He dropped it, sending it clattering to the butcher block.

“Where is everyone?” I asked again, this time