The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles #2) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,86

same time solid. Unwavering. Her long hair trailed along the stones, all the way back to another millennium. Tell them a story.

And so I did. I told them the story of two sisters.

Gather close, my brothers and sisters,

Listen well,

For there is one true history,

And one true future.

Once upon a time,

Long, long ago,

Seven stars were flung from the sky.

One to shake the mountains,

One to churn the seas,

One to choke the air,

And four to test the hearts of men.

I drew from the words of Morrighan, Gaudrel, and Venda. I drew from Dihara, the wind, and my own heart. I drew from the truth that shivered at my neck.

A thousand knives of light

Grew to an explosive rolling cloud,

Like a hungry monster.

A storm that made the ways of old meaningless.

A sharp knife, a careful aim, an iron will, and a listening heart,

Those were the only things that mattered.

Only a small remnant of the whole earth remained,

But two sisters found grace.…

I told the story of the worlds I had seen, whole cities mowed down, no matter how far and wide they spread, and of soaring cities of immense magic that could not withstand a furious storm. I told them of exalted temples that melted into the earth and valleys that wept with generations of blood. But through all this, two sisters remained side by side, strong and loyal, until a beast rose from the ashes and tore them from each other, because even stars thrown to earth could not destroy every last shadow of darkness.

“Where were the gods in this?” someone called.

The gods. I had no answer except, “The gods wept too.”

“What were the sisters’ names?” another called.

Though I wasn’t sure if he could hear me, I saw the Komizar’s shadow pass in his tower window.

“It grows dark,” I said. “Go home to your suppers. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.”

* * *

The room shivered with emptiness. I set about straightening the meager contents, still scattered from the guards’ riotous search for hidden weapons. They gave no thought to where they threw things. I longed for the company of the people in the square again. There was more I had wanted to say, and the solitude of the room allowed my doubts to creep back in.

I refolded the rumpled blankets and propped the practice swords back up against the wall. Impaled heads … the Assassin’s handiwork. Rafe’s remark was intentional, a warning for me. What had Kaden done? I remembered on my first day here that he had an urgent duty regarding soldiers he had to attend to, and his sharp refusal when I asked to go along. Was that where he had gone? To execute boys? The difference between children and adults didn’t seem to exist in Venda. Had he swung a sword with as little remorse as the Komizar showed this afternoon? I simply couldn’t believe it. They might both be Vendan, but they were as different as fire and water. I wondered what the condemned soldiers had done. Stolen food like the butcher? Starving is barbaric, Princess. I sat down on the bed. That was why they had no prisoners in Venda. Prisoners had to be fed.

Yet the Council seemed to lack nothing.

I had risen to pour water in the basin and wash up when I heard footsteps in the hall. A single thump shook the door and then the lock rattled.

It was Ulrix. He cracked the door only a few inches, just wide enough to say, “The Komizar wants you. Wear your purple. I’ll wait out here.”

He shut the door so I could change. It was too early for the evening meal in Sanctum Hall, and Calantha was always sent to get me. Or the Komizar himself banged on the door. Never Ulrix. Wear the purple. Another dress that showed off the kavah, made of scraps of soft buckskin dyed with thannis.

I took the folded dress from the pile on top of the chest and rubbed the soft leather between my fingers. Something isn’t right. But nothing had been right for so long, I wasn’t sure how one more worry mattered.

Ulrix didn’t take me to the Komizar’s private meeting chamber as I expected, and when I asked where we were going, he didn’t answer. He led me to a remote part of the Sanctum, down narrow curving stairs in a wing where I had never been. The stairs emptied into a large, round foyer barely lit with a single torch. There was one small recessed door and hallways on either side that