The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

His lips brush my neck,

His spittle wets my cheek,

His caress crushes my breaths,

More than swords,

More than fists,

My words frighten him.

I see my end,

But the words I have given you,

I pray, those he cannot take.

—Song of Venda

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

RAFE

Only a few of us rode through the woods. The rest remained in town, dispersed so as not to attract attention—but ready. As we got closer to the cottage, I put my hand up, a wordless order for everyone to stop. They heard it too. An angry squalling. A cat perhaps, or—

We broke into a gallop. As we neared, I spotted Kaden running from the woods toward the cottage. He saw us but kept running. “Pauline! Lia!” he yelled as he ran. We piled through the cottage door, only to find it empty—except for the howl of a baby. We all looked at the bed at the same time, and Kaden bent down, pulling a bundle from beneath it.

“It’s Pauline’s,” he said as he cradled the baby in his arms. He pulled aside the blanket to make sure it wasn’t hurt. “She would never leave her baby like this.” And then, as if he’d finally registered our presence, he asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Before I could answer, Berdi and a young girl burst through the door. Berdi yelled warnings and threats before finally demanding the baby be handed over. It was pandemonium and confusion as questions were hurled until Orrin rushed in and said there were fresh horse tracks outside that weren’t ours.

“Someone took them,” Kaden said. “She hid the baby beneath the bed so they wouldn’t take him too.”

The girl with Berdi darted for the door. “I have to get to the abbey!”

Both Kaden and Berdi yelled for her to stop, but she was already gone. I got on my horse and ran her down, unsure of her motives. She drew a knife to hold me off. That was when she told me about the notices.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

The three of us sat side by side, leaning against the stone wall. I imagined they stared into the black void, just as I did. I was grateful that I couldn’t see Pauline’s face as she recounted the betrayal. Her voice was still filled with disbelief and wobbled in a soft, dangerous way between misery and cold rage. Just when I thought she would break, a terrible quietness roared up in her, one that was feral and sharp and thirsty for revenge.

Gwyneth told me that before they were taken, she had heard Pauline call her from the cottage porch. She had looked out the window, and when she saw the soldiers coming, she wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid him beneath the bed, where he wouldn’t be seen.

Pauline’s voice turned thin and fearful again. “Kaden will find him. Don’t you think, Lia?”

Gwyneth had already reassured her that Kaden would hear him crying when he returned from the mill. I’d started to add my own affirmation when Pauline reached out for my hand and felt the bloody mess of it. I groaned at her touch.

“Dear gods, what happened?”

We had embraced when they were thrown into the room, but in the darkness she hadn’t seen my hand.

I had already explained my encounter with my father, the Chancellor, and the guards who dragged me here, but now I told them about my unfortunate encounter with Malich and the bolt.

Pauline was horrified and immediately began tearing a strip from the bottom of her skirt for a bandage. Gwyneth stood and felt her way through the corners of the room, and when she had found a handful of cobwebs, she stumbled back toward me and wrapped them around my hand. Though the court physician would have disapproved highly of such kitchen remedies, it helped slow the steady ooze from my hand.

“Was it hard?” Pauline asked. “To kill him?”

“No,” I answered. It had been easy. Did that make me little more than an animal? That was what I felt like now, a knot of teeth and claws ready to kill anything that walked through the door.