The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

“Three?”

“You told me I had to make my peace with Kaden. I have.” His tone was wooden.

Aunt Bernette rushed in, jingling the keys. “I have them!” She stopped when she saw Rafe, as if she knew she had interrupted something. I heard myself speaking, sounding like my mother rising to the occasion, trying to gracefully smooth out an awkward moment. “Aunt Bernette, I’d like to introduce the king of Dalbreck. King Jaxon, this is my aunt, Lady Bernette.”

“We met last night. Briefly. Your Majesty,” she said, and curtsied deeply, giving Rafe the full honor of his position.

“Lady Bernette,” Rafe answered and took her hand, lifting it to his lips, uttering polite niceties, and then excused himself, turning to leave without another word to me. He walked toward the door.

How many times did I have to let him go?

No more.

This was the last time.

He hadn’t even made it through the door when footsteps sounded in the outer chamber. Gwyneth rushed in followed by a cluster of Rafe’s soldiers—with the Field Marshal in their grip.

“This couldn’t wait,” she said apologetically, seeing me still in my nightgown. “It’s about your brothers.”

* * *

I paced my room. I had sensed last night that the Field Marshal was innocent, but I had felt myself fading. It was safer just to order them all locked up where they would be secure until I could question them.

“Why didn’t you tell us this last night?” I demanded.

“In front of everyone? After what you revealed? I didn’t think it wise, considering I’d just found out about the snakes infesting the ranks. It’s not something we want everyone to know, in case it affords the princes any advantage. I demanded to speak directly to you from the moment I was whisked away, but he wouldn’t listen.” He nodded toward Rafe.

“Everyone wanted to speak with her. Lia was indisposed. I told you to talk to me,” Rafe answered.

“The king of a foreign nation who stormed in during a conclave? I’m supposed to immediately trust you with every kingdom secret?” The Field Marshal looked at Gwyneth. “This kind lady finally listened to me.”

Gwyneth admitted she had gone down to the cellar where the prisoners were held in separate rooms to gloat at the Chancellor—and to reassure herself that he was still there. She’d been woken by a nightmare, dreaming he’d broken loose and was headed for Terravin. When the Field Marshal saw her pass by the small opening of his cell door, he begged for a moment to speak to her. All he would say was that he had news about my brothers that I needed to hear.

He told me about a conversation he’d had with my brothers before they left. He hadn’t been happy about the diplomatic mission proposed by the cabinet, and he was surprised my brothers had agreed to it so easily. He suspected they were up to something.

He privately confronted the eldest prince, asking him what they were plotting. Regan hadn’t tried to deny it. “You know what we’re doing. The same thing you’d do if your sister was wrongly accused.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“I thought you would,” Regan had answered.

And then the Field Marshal wished them luck.

I sat on the bench at the end of my bed, resting my face in my palms. My breath swelled in my chest. He said my brothers had never planned to go on to Gitos or Cortenai after they set the memorial stone in the City of Sacraments—only on to a few cities to recruit more help, and then they were heading to Venda to get me back and prove I wasn’t a traitor—which meant the trackers we had sent were headed in the wrong direction. By the time they figured out the princes had planned a new route, they would likely be too far behind to catch up. But this also meant those lying in wait to ambush them had to regroup too. It might give my brothers an advantage, but even if they evaded those sent to kill them, going all the way to Venda was a sure death sentence. Even a dozen regiments at their sides wouldn’t be enough to defend themselves against the Vendan army they would meet.

“The Aberdeen garrison,” I said. “After what happened to Walther’s company, that’s where they’ll go next, to recruit more and double their numbers. We’ll send riders there.”

Rafe shook his head. “No. Your brothers would be past there by the time riders arrived. We have an outpost northeast of the City of Dark Magic. Fontaine. We can try to intercept them near there.”

“That’s even farther away,” the Field Marshal scoffed. “How would you get a message to them in time?”

I looked at Rafe, my heart gripped in a fist. “You have Valsprey with you?”

He nodded.

We sat down at my desk immediately to write messages. One from me to my brothers so they would know the interception w

asn’t an attack by Dalbretch soldiers. The other from Rafe to the commanding colonel at Fontaine to set patrols combing the landscape for Morrighese squads. It was still a long shot. There were miles of wilderness, and those lying in wait to ambush my brothers could still reach them before they were warned. But it was something. Rafe looked over my message and rolled it up with his. No one else saw what he wrote, because it was written with ciphers known only to his officers. “I told the colonel I wanted a well-armed battalion to escort your brother’s squads home if he finds them.”