The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

“How I wish I’d had a bolt in my hand when Mikael came and pointed us out.” Pauline mimicked his voice as she recounted his words again. “It was my duty to turn you in, he said. I’m a soldier, and you’re a wanted criminal of the kingdom. I had no other choice.” She tied off the bandage. “Duty! When I saw the magistrate toss him a bag of coin, Mikael shrugged, like he hadn’t known about the bounty.”

“How did he know you’d be at the caretaker’s cottage?” I asked.

“I’m afraid he knows me far better than I know him. I’m guessing he was the one who followed me to the inn and alerted the Chancellor. When he didn’t find me there, he thought of another place I might go. The cottage was where we used to—” She sighed and didn’t finish her thought. She didn’t need to.

“And I was just the lucky bonus in the whole bargain,” Gwyneth said cheerfully. “Wait until the Chancellor finds out I’m involved. That should be ugly. I learned a long time ago how delightfully vicious he can be.” And then, for the first time, she opened up about Simone. Maybe when you’re about to die, secrets don’t seem so important to keep.

She sighed with an air of disgust that I think was directed at herself. “I was nineteen when I met him. He was older, powerful, and showered me with attention. I found him charming, if you can believe that, but the truth is, even then I knew he was dangerous on some level. I thought it was exciting compared to my dreary life as a chambermaid in Graceport. He wore expensive clothes and spoke so properly, and it made me feel like I was somehow just as important as he was. I passed information on to him for almost a year. Because of the port, a lot of lords and wealthy merchants frequented the inn. It wasn’t until two patrons I had given him information about turned up dead in their beds that I grasped how dangerous he was. He told me they had become a liability. Everything that I had thought was exciting about him suddenly became terrifying.”

She said by that point she was already pregnant. She made up a story for him that she’d found a job elsewhere and would have said or done anything to get the baby away from him. He didn’t try to stop her from leaving. He wasn’t happy about the child, and she was still afraid he might do something to her or the baby. She kept Simone for only a few months. She had run out of funds, had no one to turn to, and was worried the Chancellor might track her down. Passing through Terravin, she spotted an older couple who doted on some children in the square. She learned they were childless and followed them to a home that was neat and tidy. “They even had red geraniums in pots on their windowsill. I held Simone in my arms for two hours, staring at those flowers. I knew they’d make good parents.” She paused and I heard a swiping sound, like she was brushing tears from her cheeks. “After I left her there, I didn’t come back

to Terravin for over two years. I was still afraid someone would make the connection, but not a day went by that I didn’t think about her. They’re good people. We don’t ever talk about it—I guess they know I don’t want to—but they know who I am, and they make room in their lives for me. She’s a happy and sweet little girl. Nothing like me, thank the gods. Or him.” Her voice cracked as if she knew she might never see her daughter again. Hearing the steely Gwyneth break squeezed the air from my chest.

“Stop!” I said. “We’ll get out of this.”

“Damn right we will!” Pauline growled.

Gwyneth and I sucked in startled breaths, then laughed. I pictured Pauline gripping a bolt in her fist with Mikael’s name engraved on it. Gwyneth reached out and held my good hand. I hung my other hand over Pauline’s shoulder and pulled her close. We leaned into one another, our arms tangled, forehead to cheek, chin to shoulder, tears and strength binding us.

“We’ll get out of this,” I whispered again. And then we shared the silence, knowing what was coming.

Gwyneth pulled away first, leaning back against the wall again. “What I can’t figure out is why we’re not all dead already. What are they waiting for?”

“Confirmation,” I said. “The conclave is back in session, and someone who’s a deciding factor in this little conspiracy is otherwise occupied. Maybe the Royal Scholar.”

“The conclave breaks for midday meal,” Pauline said.

“Then we have until midday,” I replied.

Or maybe longer if my backup plan worked out, but as every minute passed and I listened for the sound of the abbey bells ringing, I became more certain that plan had been thwarted too.

My anger spiked. I should have stabbed the Komizar again. Carved him up like a holiday goose, then brought his head back skewered on a sword and showed it to the crowds as proof that I had no love for the tyrant.

“Why did they believe the lies?” I asked. “How could a whole kingdom believe I would marry the Komizar and betray a company of soldiers, including my own brother?”

Gwyneth sighed. “They were cut to the quick,” she said, “grieving and desperate. Thirty-three of their finest young men were dead, and the Chancellor stepped forward and provided them with an easy outlet for their rage—a face and name they knew that had already turned her back on them once. It was easy for them to believe.”

But if I hadn’t run away, I never would have found out about the Komizar’s plans—or the traitors. I’d be blissfully living in another kingdom with Rafe, at least until the Komizar turned his attention toward Dalbreck. And the young Vendans who were barely big enough to lift a sword would get the worst of it all, sacrificial lambs the Komizar would place on the front lines, probably to storm the gates of the city. He would use the children to prick the consciences of Morrighese soldiers. Neither my brothers nor their comrades would ever strike down a child. They would hold their weapons, hesitate, and then the Komizar would move in with his arsenal of destruction.

Pauline gently laid her hand on my thigh. “But not everyone believed the lies. Bryn and Regan didn’t believe a word of it.”

Maybe that was why they were on their way to their deaths now. They had asked too many questions.

* * *

We sat there in the dark, each of us lost to our own thoughts, my hand throbbing in time with my heart, the strange tingle of the cobwebs against my skin running up my arm like a thousand tiny spiders. A kitchen remedy. Something the court physician would never use. Not on his own. The blackness swirled in front of me, and the thousand tiny spiders became a field of golden flowers. A face rose out of them, calm and sure. He never asked me about the gift because he knew I had it. It was what had made him afraid of me all along. She will expose the wicked. And I saw a wide continent of kingdoms, each with their own unique gifts, the face receding, and fields of flowers rippling in the breeze until they became spiders again, resting in my palm.

The door opened, and we were blinded by the sudden light. I heard the Chancellor’s haughty sigh before I saw him.

“Gwyneth,” he said, drawing her name out in exaggerated disappointment, “I thought you were smarter than this.” He clucked his tongue. “Conspiring with enemies.”

Gwyneth shot him a withering stare, and he returned it with a smile. Then his eyes met mine. I got to my feet and limped toward him. He resisted stepping back, not wanting to show any fear. I was, after all, injured, weaponless, and a prisoner. But I saw a brief flicker in his eyes, a heartbeat of doubt. It confirmed he’d read the Song of Venda. She will expose the wicked. What if I did?

He eyed my bloodied bandaged hand. His arrogant sneer returned. I didn’t look so mighty now. I was only the nuisance that had forever plagued him, one with a name he couldn’t quite explain, but I was not a threat. The small doubt that ate at him vanished.

“Don’t do this, Lord Chancellor,” I said. “Don’t kill my brothers.”

A satisfied puff of air escaped his lips. “So that’s what did it, what made you finally run to your father.”