The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles #2) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,47

suspicion that the patrols were being systematically slaughtered by the Vendan army. They were hiding something. Something important.

Rafe shook his head. “We’ve always had skirmishes with bands of Vendans, but this does seem different. I’ve never seen organized troops like the ones we encountered, but even six hundred armed soldiers is something that can be easily quashed by either of our kingdoms once they know what they’re dealing with.”

“What if there’s more than six hundred?”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bristle on his chin. “We haven’t seen any evidence of that, and it takes some level of prosperity to train and support a large army.”

This was true. Supporting the Morrighese army was a constant drain on the treasury. But even though it brought me some relief to think the army we encountered could be dealt with, I still felt doubt roosting in my gut.

I moved on, telling him about the jehendra, the man who put the talisman around my neck, and the women who measured me for clothes. “They were unusually attentive, Rafe. Kind, even. It was strange in comparison to everyone else. I wonder if maybe they—”

“Like you?”

“No. It’s more than that,” I said, shaking my head. “I think that maybe they wanted to help me. Maybe help us?” I chewed the corner of my lip. “Rafe, there’s something else I haven’t told you.”

He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on me. It reminded me of all the times I swept the inn porches in Terravin and he listened so intently to what I had to say, no matter how large or small it was. “What is it?” he asked.

“When I ran from Civica, I stole something. I was angry, and it was my way of getting back at some members of the cabinet who had pushed the marriage.”

“Jewels? Gold? I don’t think anyone in Venda is going to arrest you for stealing something from their sworn enemy.”

“I don’t think the value of it was monetary. I think it was something they just didn’t want anyone to see—especially me. I stole some documents from the Royal Scholar’s library. One of them was an ancient Vendan text called the Song of Venda.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither had I.” I told him Venda was the wife of the first ruler and the kingdom was named for her. I explained that she had told stories and sung songs from the walls of the Sanctum to the people below, but she was said to have gone mad. When her words turned to babble, the ruler had pushed her from the wall to her death below.

“He killed his own wife? Sounds like they were as barbaric then as they are now, but how does this matter to us?”

I hesitated, almost afraid to say the words out loud. “On my way here across the Cam Lanteux, I translated it. It said a dragon would rise, one that fed on the tears of mothers. But it also said someone else would come along to challenge him. Someone named Jezelia.”

His head shifted slightly to the side. “What are you trying to say?”

“Maybe it isn’t chance that I’m here.”

“Because of a name mentioned in an old song by a long-dead madwoman?”

“It’s more than that, Rafe. I saw her,” I blurted out.

His expression changed almost instantly from curious to cautious, as if I’d gone mad too. “You think you saw a dead—”

I cut him off, telling him about the woman I saw in the hall, on the ledge, and finally in the passage. He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Lia,” he said, “you’ve been through a horrible journey, and this place—” He shook his head. “Anyone could see things here. Our lives are in jeopardy every minute. We never know when someone will come and—” He squeezed my hand. “The name Jezelia could be as common as air here, and a dragon? That could be anyone. She may have even meant a literal dragon. Have you thought of that? It’s only a story. Every kingdom has them. And it’s understandable that you might see things in a dark passageway. It might have even been a servant passing through. Thank the gods she didn’t expose you to the guards. But you’re not meant to be a prisoner in this godforsaken place, of that much, I’m certain.”

“But there’s something going on here, Rafe. I feel it. Something looming. Something I saw in an old woman’s eyes on the