The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

Dwells not just past the great divide,

But among you.

Guard your hearts against his cunning,

Your children against his thirst,

For his greed knows no bounds,

And so shall it be,

Sisters of my heart,

Brothers of my soul,

Family of my flesh,

For evermore.”

She kissed two fingers and lifted them to the heavens, a heavy sadness to her movement.

“For evermore,” the crowd echoed back, but I was still trying to comprehend it all. The words of Morrighan and her kin? Seven stars? A dragon?

The queen stood and looked behind her as if she had heard something. She jumped down from the wall and hurried away, disappearing into the darkness as easily as night. Seconds later, the balcony doors burst open and the Watch Captain stepped out on the empty balcony with several guards. It was then that I saw the Chancellor standing only a few feet to my right. He was still staring up at the balcony, perhaps trying to understand the queen’s unexpected appearance. I turned, tugging on my hood, and hurried away, but in spite of the danger, something compelled me to return the next night. The queen’s urgent prayer still stirred within me. Again, she spoke just as the veil of darkness fell, and this time from the east tower.

The next evening, Berdi and Gwyneth came with me. The queen was on a wall below the western turret. I worried for her, perched so uncertainly on ledges and roofs, and I wondered if her grief had made her reckless. Or mad. She said things I had never heard before. The crowds grew, but it was her haunting words that prodded us to return. On the fourth night, the queen appeared in the abbey bell tower. Open your hearts to the truth.

“Are you certain that’s the queen?” Gwyneth asked.

A nagging doubt that had prowled behind my breastbone was set free by her question. “She’s impossible to see from here,” I answered, still trying to puzzle it out, “but she does wear the royal cloak.”

“What about her voice?”

And that was the strange part. Yes, her voice was like the queen, but it was also a voice that seemed like a hundred I had known, a timeless sound, like the wind in the trees. It passed through me as if it held a truth of its own.

Gwyneth shook her head. “That’s not the queen up there.”

Then Berdi voiced the impossible, what we were all thinking. “It’s Lia.”

I knew it was true.

“Thank the gods she is alive, but why is she posing as the queen?” Gwyneth wondered aloud.

“Because the queen is revered,” Berdi answered. “Who would listen to the most wanted criminal in Morrighan?”

“And she is preparing us,” I said. But preparing us for what, I didn’t know.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Only a midnight moon gave contour to the room. Dim gray defined the lines of the ornate pewter goblet in my hand. I set it back in the curio cabinet, alongside other mementos from years of service. A medallion from Eislandia, a gilded sea shell from Gitos, a sculpted jade bear from Gastineux. Unique tokens from every kingdom on the continent, except of course Venda, with whom there were

no diplomatic relations. The Viceregent’s duties as consul took him on many long trips. I hadn’t seen him complain, but the pleasure he expressed upon returning home had said much about the hardships of his travel.

I closed the door of the cabinet and sat in a chair in the corner. Waiting. The darkness offered quiet comfort. I could almost forget where I was, except for the sword lying across my lap.

I was running out of options. It was getting harder to sneak through the citadelle, and by the fourth evening, I’d had to switch to the abbey. The citizens found me there. No doubt the cabinet would have guards stationed at the abbey tonight too.

The first night I had said remembrances over the portico, it was a miracle that I had gotten away at all. I was more careful now, but that night I was reckless and undone. My stomach had twisted into knots. All my carefully planned words had vanished. After seeing my mother with the Royal Scholar, grief had slashed through me like a sharp knife, shredding everything I had hoped for: A tearful reunion. A long-earned explanation. A misunderstanding. Something.