The Beauty of Darkness

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The Beauty of Darkness Page 11

by Mary E. Pearson


  “You’re skilled with a needle,” I offered.

  “Only out of necessity,” he answered, turning off the water. “No one else wants the job.” He toweled off and began to get dressed. “Funny, Rafe won’t shove a tiny piece of steel into someone’s cheek, but he can bring down three men with the single swing of his sword without even breaking a sweat. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  A not-so-subtle warning. I remembered him watching my exchange with Rafe back in the surgeon’s barracks. He obviously didn’t appreciate my lack of regal respect.

  “He’s not my king. I won’t be bending my knee to him like the rest of you.”

  “He’s not a bad fellow if you give him a chance.”

  “I’d expect you to say something like that, but I’m not here for chances or to be someone’s friend. I’m here for Lia.”

  “Then you’re here for the wrong reason, Assassin.” He tightened his belt and adjusted his scabbard. His eyes were hot black pools. “One other word of advice—be cautious when you use the privies. Especially late at night. I’ve heard they can be dangerous. Surprising, isn’t it?” He turned and left, ordering the guards outside to wait until I was done.

  He had been studying me more closely than I thought. It was only a simple glance at the privy, but he’d seen it and put it together. No doubt he’d be keeping a diligent eye on me—or making sure someone else did. He was probably already telling Rafe about his suspicions.

  Had any of them noted that I had fought on their side today?

  I continued to shower, in no hurry to join back up with the guards who waited for me. I wondered when and if I would see Lia again. Rafe wouldn’t make it easy, especially now that he was—

  I shoved my head back under the water. I hadn’t even gotten used to the idea of him being a prince, and now he was a blazing king. I sputtered water out and scrubbed my chest. Did Lia really think he would traipse behind her all the way to—

  I turned off the water.

  He won’t go to Morrighan.

  But that won’t stop her.

  Something warm slivered into me.

  I felt hope again.

  He didn’t know her like I did.

  There were a lot of things he didn’t know.

  There was even the possibility that Lia was using him the way she had used me.

  That same thought tumbled into another.

  There were also things she didn’t know about him, and maybe it was time she found out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Night fell early, and I heard a distant hum. A song? Was it possible their eventide passed here with remembrances of the girl Morrighan too? It didn’t seem likely, and yet we had all sprung from the same beginnings. How far had those beginnings diverged? The night tugged at me, a quiet pull I wanted to give in to, yet the golden lit windows of the officer’s dining room lay ahead.

  I followed Madam Rathbone up the steps of a large wooden structure with a wide veranda all the way around it.

  “Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm. “I need a moment.”

  A furrow lined her brow. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I know,” I said, slightly breathless. “I’ll be right in. Please.”

  She left and I turned, bracing myself against the railing.

  I had always faced others’ expectations, usually with little patience, snapping at the cabinet who pressured me in one way or another, but now I had to deal with another kind of expectation that I didn’t fully understand. It was mired in complications, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate them. Your future queen. When I walked through the door of the dining room, that was what they would see. I had told Kaden that I would somehow make it all work, but I knew I couldn’t. It was impossible. Someone always came out on the losing end. I didn’t want it to be me and Rafe.

  I looked to the western sky and its constellations: Aster’s Diamonds, God’s Goblet, and Dragon’s Tail. The stars that hovered over Morrighan. I kissed my fingers and lifted them to the heavens, to home, to those I had left behind, to everyone I loved, including the dead. “Enade meunter ijotande,” I whispered, then turned and pushed open the door of the dining room.

  Rafe was the first person I saw, and I secretly thanked the gods, because it made my heart weightless, soaring somewhere high and free. He stood when he saw me, and the look in his eyes made me grateful for Madam Rathbone’s, Adeline’s, and Vilah’s efforts. They had chosen well. His gaze made my heart settle back down, now warm and full in my chest.

  I looked past officers, wives, and whoever else was there, to where he stood at the end of the long dining room table, mesmerized. It was the first time I had ever seen Rafe dressed in his own kingdom’s clothing. It was strangely unnerving, a confirmation of who he really was. He wore a deep blue officer’s tunic over a loose black shirt, and a dark leather baldrick embossed with Dalbreck’s crest crossed his chest. His hair had been trimmed, and his face gleamed with a close shave.

  I sensed heads turning, but I kept my eyes locked on Rafe, and my feet glided over the floor to his side. This was it. I had no understanding of Dalbreck’s formal customs. The Royal Scholar had tried to school me in the most basic of greetings, but I had skipped his lessons. Rafe held his hand out to me, and when I took it, I was shocked that he pulled me close and kissed me in front of everyone. A long, scandalous kiss. I felt color rush to my cheeks. If this was a custom, I liked it.

  When I turned to face the rest of the guests, it was quite apparent this sort of greeting was not standard protocol. Some of the ladies had color on their cheeks too, and Sven’s hand rested over his mouth as if he was trying to conceal a frown.

  “My compliments and gratitude, Madam Rathbone,” Rafe said, “for taking such good care of the princess.” He unclasped the fur cape around my shoulders and handed it to a servant. I sat in a chair next to him, and that was when I took in exactly who was present. Sven, Tavish, and Orrin were all dressed in the deep Dalbretch blues as well, their appearances transformed with a razor, soap, and crisply pressed clothes—officers in the powerful army that Sven had told me the history of so proudly. Sven, like Colonel Bodeen, who sat at the opposite end, wore a gold braid on his shoulder too. There was nothing to distinguish Rafe and his position, but they certainly didn’t keep the trimmings of a king on hand at an outpost.

  Colonel Bodeen jumped in with introductions. Greetings were cordial but reserved, and then servants brought in the first of many courses served on small white porcelain plates—warm goat cheese balls rolled in herbs; finger-size rolls of chopped meat wrapped in thin strips of smoked pork; fried flat breads shaped into bite-size bowls and filled with warm spiced beans. Each course was served on a fresh plate, and we hadn’t even gotten to the main course yet. You’ll see.

  Yes, I saw, though I was sure Colonel Bodeen was setting a more extravagant table tonight, to honor not only their returned comrades, but the king they had thought was lost. Jeb’s absence was due to the physician’s orders for rest. No one else seemed to notice that Griz and Kaden weren’t present, though I was certain they would both have been extremely uncomfortable at the table. At times I felt I was in a dreamlike fog. Only this morning we had been on the backs of horses fighting for our lives, and now I was navigating a sea of porcelain, silver, glowing candelabras, and a thousand tinkling glasses. Everything seemed brighter and louder than it was.

  It was a celebratory evening and I noted the effort to keep conversation light. Colonel Bodeen brought out his revered red-eye and poured Sven a glass. He announced that another celebration was in the works that would include the entire outpost. It would give all the soldiers a chance to toast their new king and—Colonel Bodeen added hesitantly—their future queen.

  “Marabella parties are unmatched,” Vilah said with excitement.

  “It lifts spirits,” Bodeen added.

  “And there’s dancing,” Madam Rathbone said.

  I assured them all I was eager to partake.

  Betwe
en courses, toasts were offered, and as the wine and spirits flowed, caution was forgotten and more conversation was directed at me.

  “Madam Rathbone told me you set a fine table,” I said to Colonel Bodeen, “and I must admit I am quite impressed.”

  “The Marabella outpost is known for its exceptional food,” Fiona, Lieutenant Belmonte’s wife, answered, her voice filled with pride.

  “The better fed a soldier, the better they can serve,” Colonel Bodeen explained, as if the food wasn’t an extravagance, but a battle strategy.

  The memory of the Komizar’s assured grin and tall shining silos shimmered behind my eyes. Great armies march on their stomachs.

  I stared down at the plate before me. A smear of orange sauce and a pheasant leg bone lay upon it. There had been no plates of bones to pass before the meal, no acknowledgment of sacrifice. Its absence left a strange hole in me that begged to be filled. I wasn’t sure what had happened to my own tether of bones. It had probably been thrown away along with my bloody and torn clothes as something unclean and savage. I discreetly slipped the bone from the plate and hid it in my napkin before the servant could take it away.

  “I can’t imagine what you suffered at the hands of those savages,” Madam Hague said.

  “If you mean the Vendans, yes, some were savage, but many others were extremely kind.”

  She raised her eyebrows as if doubtful.

  Captain Hague threw back another glass of wine. “But you must regret your decision to flee the wedding. All this—”

  “No, Captain. I don’t regret my decision.”

  The table grew silent.

  “If I had been shipped off to Dalbreck, there are valuable things I never would have learned.”

  Lieutenant Dupre leaned forward. “Surely there are easier ways to learn lessons of youth—”

  “Not lessons, Lieutenant. Cold, hard facts. The Vendans have amassed an army and devised weapons that could wipe out both Dalbreck and Morrighan.”

  Dubious glances were exchanged. A few eyes came close to outright rolling. Poor delirious girl.

  Rafe put his hand on mine. “Lia, we can talk about this later. Tomorrow, with the colonel and other officers.” He quickly suggested we retire and excused us. As we walked past Sven and Bodeen, I eyed the near-empty bottle of red-eye.

  I grabbed it from the table and sniffed. “Colonel Bodeen, do you mind if I take the rest of this with me?”

  His eyes widened. “I’m afraid it’s very strong brew, Your Highness.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  He looked at Rafe for approval, and Rafe nodded. I was getting quite weary of everyone deferring to Rafe before answering me.

  “It’s not for me,” I explained, then shot an accusing stare at Sven. “We did promise Griz a glass, didn’t we?” Bodeen remained gracious, but several of the dinner guests cleared their throats, and stared at Bodeen, waiting for a refusal to share the red-eye. I understood their disapproval. They had just learned of an entire platoon’s demise at the hands of Vendans. Still, everyone couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that Kaden and Griz had suffered injuries to help save our lives.

  Rafe took the bottle from me and handed it to a sentry standing at the door. “See that the large fellow in the surgeon’s barracks gets this.” Rafe looked back at me and raised his brows as if to ask if the problem was solved, and I nodded my satisfaction.

  * * *

  “These are your quarters,” Rafe said, pulling aside the curtained entry of the tent. Even in the dim glowing light of an overhead chandelier, I was met with a shock of color. A lush indigo carpet swirling with flowers covered the entirety of the floor. A blue velvet quilt, white satin pillows, and fur blankets were piled high on a canopied bed topped with finials carved in the shapes of lion heads. Elegant blue drapes were gathered back with gold cording, waiting to be pulled, and a squat stove with an intricate grill was nearby. Fresh cornflowers graced a side table, and a small dining table with two chairs was in a corner. It was more luxurious than my own chamber at home.

  “And your quarters?” I asked.

  “Over there.”

  A dozen yards away, a similar tent had been erected. A short distance that seemed so far. We hadn’t slept apart since we left the Sanctum. I had grown accustomed to feeling his arm around my waist, the warmth of his breath on my neck, and I couldn’t imagine him not being with me tonight, especially now that we finally had what might be called real privacy.

  I smoothed back a lock from his face. His lids were heavy. “You’ve gotten no rest, have you?”

  “Not yet. There will be time for that later—”

  “Rafe,” I said, stopping him. “Some things can’t be put off until later. We still haven’t talked about your parents. Are you all right?”

  He let the tent curtain drop, blocking out the lantern light, and we were in darkness again. “I’m fine,” he said.

  I cradled his face and drew him closer, our foreheads touching, our breaths mingling, and it seemed tears swelled in both our throats. “I’m sorry, Rafe,” I whispered.

  His jaw tensed beneath my touch. “I was where I needed to be. With you. My parents would understand.” Each word he spoke throbbed in the space between us. “My being with them wouldn’t have changed anything.”

  “But you could have said good-bye.”

  His arms circled around me, holding me tight, and it felt like all the grief he would ever be allowed was in that grip. I could think only of the cruelty of his new position and what was immediately expected of him.

  His hold finally loosened, and he looked at me, tired creases at the corners of his eyes, a smile through his exhaustion.

  “Stay with me?” I asked.

  His lips met mine, and he whispered against them between kisses. “Are you trying to seduce me, Your Highness?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, and leisurely ran the tip of my tongue along his lower lip like it was my final course of the evening.

  He pulled away slightly and sighed. “We’re in the middle of an outpost with a hundred eyes watching—probably right now from the dining room windows.”

  “You didn’t seem to be worried about what others thought when you kissed me in there.”

  “I was overcome with the moment. Besides, kissing you and staying the night in your tent are two different things.”

  “You’re afraid you’ll taint my reputation?”

  An evil grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid you’ll taint mine.”

  I punched him playfully in the ribs, but then felt the smile fade from my face. I understood protocol—especially with royals. By the gods, I had lived with it my entire life. I also knew Rafe was in an especially delicate position now, all eyes newly trained on him. But we had both nearly died. I was tired of waiting. “I want to be with you, Rafe. Now. It seems waiting is all we’ve ever done. I don’t care what anyone thinks. What if there are no tomorrows? What if now is all we’ll ever have?”

  He reached up and gently pressed his finger to my lips. “Shhh. Don’t ever say that. We have a lifetime ahead of us, a hundred tomorrows and more. I promise. That’s what all this has been about. Every breath, every step I’ve taken has been for our future together. There’s nothing I want more than to disappear into this tent with you, but I do care what they think. They’ve only just met you, and I’ve already disregarded every protocol expected of a prince.”

  I sighed. “And now you’re king.”

  “But I can at least come in and light the stove for you. That won’t take me long.”

  I told him I could light it myself, but he pulled aside the curtain and led me in, and I didn’t protest further. He checked the flue in the tall round chimney that vented through the top of the tent, and then lit the kindling. He sat back on the side of the bed, watching to make sure the wood caught. I walked around the tent, brushing my fingers along the bed drapes, taking in the extravagance.

  “This really wasn’t all necessary, Rafe,” I said over my s
houlder.

  I heard him poking at the wood. “Where else would you stay? In the soldiers’ barracks?”

  “Anything would be a luxury compared to where I have been sleeping.” I spotted my belongings on the table. They were carefully placed in a neat pile, but the saddlebag was gone. I pulled my hairbrush from the stack and began pulling pins from my hair, undoing all of Adeline’s beautiful work. “Or I could have slept in Madam Rathbone’s sitting room. Though her husband might not have—”

  I heard an odd thump and turned. The poker had slipped from Rafe’s grasp and now lay on the floor.

  It appeared I was going to get my wish after all.

  “Rafe?”

  He was out cold. He lay on my bed, his feet still on the floor, and his hands limp at his sides. I walked over and whispered his name again, but he didn’t respond. Even a stubborn king could stay awake only so long. I pulled his boots off, and he barely stirred. Next came his belts. I couldn’t wrestle with his deadweight, so the clothes would have to stay. I lifted up his legs and turned them so he was fully on the bed. He mumbled a few incoherent words about leaving and then didn’t utter another sound. I removed my pauldron and jewelry and struggled to unlace the leather corset on my own. Once I extinguished the chandelier lights, I curled up on the bed beside him and pulled the furs over both of us. His face was serene, glowing in the firelight. “Rest, sweet farmer,” I whispered. I kissed his cheek, his chin, his lips, memorizing every inch of his skin beneath my touch. A hundred tomorrows. I laid my head on the pillow next to his and slid my hand around his waist, holding him, still afraid he might slip away and our tomorrows would never come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I sensed him slipping from beneath my arm in the midde of the night, but I thought he had just rolled over. When I woke early the next morning, he was gone. All I found was a servant with wary eyes and a tray of tarts, dried fruit, and cream. She set it on the table and curtsied.

  “I’m Tilde. His Majesty told me to tell you he had meetings and would check on you later. In the meantime, I am to help with anything you require.”

 

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