The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

If ever there were three mismatched riders, it was us—the crown prince of Dalbreck, the Assassin of Venda, and the fugitive princess of Morrighan. Sons and daughter of three kingdoms, each bent on the domination of the other two. If our situation hadn’t been so dire, I would have thrown back my head and laughed at the irony. It seemed whether I was at the citadelle or in the far-flung wilderness, I was ever caught in the middle of opposing forces.

Griz had not only made it through the first night but had woken up hungry. Tavish said nothing, but I saw his relief and maybe some of his lost pride restored. Each day Griz grew stronger, and now after three days, his color was ruddy and the fever gone. Tavish asked me about the thannis poultice I applied daily. I shared what I knew about the purple weed, including its brief but deadly golden phase, when it seeded. He took the pouch that I offered him, noting he would avoid the golden flowers if he found any. Griz told him not to worry, that he wouldn’t find any thannis here. It grew only in Venda. I wished now I had some of those golden seeds, if only to plant a few in Berdi’s garden.

Kaden was finally allowed to ride his horse. His hands were still tied, but at least in front of him now. The squad he had claimed was hunting us down hadn’t materialized, but the possibility still kept us all on edge. I believed Kaden’s story. I was sure the others did too, though Rafe would admit to nothing. The fact that he let Kaden ride was admission enough. He wanted to get to the safety of the outpost as soon as possible. Only half a day’s ride to go, he had estimated when we packed up this morning. Sven concurred.

The Marabella outpost was the closest point of safety. It was named after one of their long-ago queens. Rafe said there were more than four hundred soldiers stationed there and it was easily defendable. Once there, we could rest, stock up on supplies, change out our horses, and continue on our journey with additional soldiers. With the Komizar dead, I hadn’t felt it necessary to return to Civica immediately, but now with even the slim possibility of him being alive and able to

carry out his plan to annihilate Morrighan, the urgency returned. As much as I delighted in the idea of having several days of rest with Rafe, we couldn’t stay long at the outpost. Morrighan had to be warned not only about the Komizar, but also the traitors who aided him.

Rafe took a long swig of water from his canteen. “Be sure to drink, Lia,” he said absently as his eyes scanned the landscape ahead. He never rested. I wasn’t sure he even slept most nights. The slightest noise roused him. By bringing Kaden and Griz into our company, he only had more to juggle, and the exhaustion showed on his face. He needed a good night’s sleep, one where he didn’t carry the weight of everyone’s safety on his shoulders. He turned to me and smiled unexpectedly, as if he knew I was watching him. “Almost there.” The icy blue of his gaze lingered, igniting a fire in my belly that spread down to my toes. His eyes turned reluctantly back to the trail ahead, his guard back up. We weren’t there yet. He continued to talk as he watched our path. “First thing I’m going to do is take a hot bath—then burn these filthy barbarian clothes.”

I heard Kaden pull in a seething breath.

Behind us there was banter on the amenities of the outpost. “First thing I’m going to do is break into Colonel Bodeen’s red-eye,” Sven said cheerfully, as if he was tasting the burning brew in his throat already.

“And I’ll lift a few with you,” Griz added.

“Bodeen keeps a fetching pantry too,” Orrin added admiringly.

“Barbarian or not, the clothes served you well enough,” Kaden shot at Rafe. “You were lucky to have them.”

Rafe leveled a cool stare over his shoulder at Kaden. “So I was,” he answered. “Just as you were lucky that I didn’t part your head from your neck when we parried in Sanctum Hall.”

Only stewing silence was returned by Kaden.

But then I noticed there was a strange brooding silence everywhere. My fingertips tingled. A sudden pall had fallen, as if someone had boxed my ears. Blood rushed to my temples. I turned my head, listening. And then, from somewhere faraway, the satisfied purr of an animal. You are ours. I looked at Rafe. Movement around me was drawn and slow, and the small hairs on my neck lifted.

“Stop,” I said softly.

Rafe pulled his horse to a halt, his eyes already sharp and alert. “Hold back,” he said to the others.

Our group of eight clung together uncertainly, a tight knot in the silence. Eight pairs of eyes searched the nearby ruins and the narrow spaces between. Nothing stirred.

I shook my head, thinking I had alerted everyone needlessly. We were all on edge—and tired.

And then a shrill howl split the air.

We spun to look behind us, our horses jostling and prancing for position in our constricted circle. At the end of the long road we had just come down, four horsemen sat poised, all equally spaced as if ready for a parade—or an advancement.

“Rahtan,” Kaden said. “They’re here.”

They were too far away to identify, but they clearly wanted us to see them.

“Only four?” Rafe asked.

“There’s more. Somewhere.”

Orrin and Jeb unhooked their bows from their packs. Rafe and Sven slowly drew their swords.

I swept aside my cloak and pulled both my knife and sword free. “Why are they just sitting there?”

Another piercing cry rang out, bouncing off ruins and raising gooseflesh on my arms. We turned the other direction to find what was almost a mirror image of what lay behind us. Six horsemen, but these were much closer. They sat like evenly spaced statues, cold and planted as if nothing could get past them.

“Bloody hell,” Sven said under his breath.

“Untie me,” Kaden whispered. “Now.”

“What are they waiting for?” Rafe asked.