The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

No, she didn’t. I remembered when I returned to the Sanctum and asked the Komizar how the plans were going. Better than I hoped. His army had grown significantly in the last few months.

Sven’s eyes were sharp beads on Griz, as if he knew there was more coming.

“There you go!” Hague said waving his hand in the air. “Confirmation right out of the big barbarian’s mouth. Maybe he’s the one who should speak to the princess.”

Griz swilled back a shot of red-eye and set the glass down with a loud thud. “The numbers are actually closer to a hundred and twenty thousand. All well armed. He motioned to Sven to pass the bottle to refill his empty glass. “That’s about twice the size of your forces, isn’t it, Captain?”

Jeb sighed. “Three times.”

Hague said nothing. His mouth gaped like a fish dangling from a hook. Griz tried to restrain a smile.

Orrin and Tavish shook their heads, and Sven passed the bottle to Griz, scrutinizing him for signs of a lie.

It was the truth. That was what the Komizar was so heavily pressuring the governors for—more supplies to sustain his expanding army.

“They’re only wild barbarians! Not a trained marching army. The numbers mean nothing!” Hague finally sputtered, dismissing the matter.

Bodeen sat back in his chair. “While the size and abilities of a Vendan army remain in question,” he interjected, “the king’s concerns do not. His worry is valid too. I understand there’s a bounty for the princess’s capture, and thanks to the Komizar and his rumors, probably something much worse awaits her by now. I think I heard King Jaxon describe her as ‘the most wanted criminal in Morrighan’? That’s a perilous position to be in.”

Stalemate. That was true too, and I knew in their view it made Griz and me look callous and unconcerned for Lia’s well-being.

Bodeen quirked his head to the side, listening, and then stood, finally judging it safe to leave. “What was that last thing she growled as she went down the steps? Jabavé?”

“It’s a Vendan word for—”

Sven coughed, cutting me off. “It’s not a term of endearment,” he offered. “The king knows what it means. That’s all that matters.”

My kernel of satisfaction warmed again, in spite of myself.

It is in the sorrows.

In the fear.

In the need.

That is when the knowing gains wings.

The black wings of knowing fluttered beneath my breast.

He was gone, and he would not come back.

—The Lost Words of Morrighan

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I paced in my tent, trying to control my rage. My blood raced faster than a whipped horse. I was certain that at any moment he would come, his head bowed in shame, begging forgiveness for his appalling behavior.

My head throbbed, and I rubbed my temples as I wore a path on the carpet. Come to my senses? Did he even hear himself? Dear gods, had the entire camp heard us? The dining room veranda was far from the soldiers’ barracks, but the officers’ quarters were within earshot. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining all the ears pressed to windows. I knew Rafe was under strain and the additional news today of dissent back home only piled on more stress, but I was under pressure too. I hissed a frustrated breath between clenched teeth. Maybe in some small way I had gone behind his back, but it was only because I wanted to get my intentions out before he returned, making them clear and public and certain so he couldn’t discount them the way he had before. Maybe he could construe it as usurping his authority, especially at a time when he was trying to gain the confidence of those around him, but acting like an ass was no way to gain respect.

I decide. I was not a subject of Dalbreck. He would decide nothing.

Minutes passed and then an hour with still no sign of him. Was he sulking? Too ashamed to come and apologize? Maybe he was commiserating with his men over his ill-spoken words. Or contemplating what Eben had shared. Rafe wasn’t stupid. With the Komizar alive and moving forward with his plans, he had to know we were all at risk. Keeping me alive for now meant nothing if in the end we were all dead or imprisoned. Just because Morrighan was the Komizar’s first target didn’t mean that Dalbreck wouldn’t be next.

I grabbed a pillow from my bed and punched it, then threw it against the headboard.

Swordplay! I could still hear his sarcastic emphasis on play. Maybe that was what hurt most of all. His lack of belief in me, only valuing his kind of strength and not the kind I possessed. The kind that had helped save both of our necks. Kaden had earned a healthy knot on his shin when he had done the same. It wasn’t too late for me to give Rafe a knot too. Maybe he needed one on his head.

The sides of the tent shivered with the wind, and a low, distant rumble sounded as if the skies had been drawn into our tempest. I added wood chips to the stove. Where was he?