The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

My love.

The way is long, but we have each other.

Another mile,

Another tomorrow,

The path is cruel, but we are strong.

I pressed two fingers against my lips, held them there to make the moment stretch as wide as the universe, and lifted them to the heavens. “And so shall it be,” I said softly, “for evermore.”

When I opened my eyes, I saw a small group gathered below me listening. Two of them were girls only a little younger than myself, and they searched the sky where I had set my prayers free, their expressions earnest. I looked up again too, scanning the heavens, and wondered if my words were already lost among the stars.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PAULINE

Three days and two notes later, Gwyneth still hadn’t received a response from the Chancellor. She had convinced me that, while I didn’t like or trust either the Chancellor or the Royal Scholar after their treatment of Lia, that also made them the perfect ones for Gwyneth to seek out. They would be the most likely to have secrets about her and, more important, be interested in information about her. It was the unknown players that we had to worry about, and at the current moment, that included just about everyone.

“What difference does it make who we can or can’t trust besides the king?”

“Because someone tried to slit Lia’s throat when she was in Terravin.”

I had sat there in disbelief when Gwyneth told me. Lia had explained the injury on her throat as a stumble down the stairs while she was carrying an armload of firewood. It grieved me, how much Lia had protected me from during those days just after Mikael had died. I was so wrapped up in my own misery, I hadn’t been there for her. This cast everything in a new light. Traitors were always brought back for trial, and certainly the king’s daughter above all would receive that small amount of justice. Someone wanted her dead without benefit of even a court hearing. I looked upon the whole court and cabinet now with new eyes.

Gwyneth’s third note to the Chancellor, sent early this morning, was answered immediately with an agreement to meet midafternoon. In this note she said she had news of Princess Arabella.

I sat in a dark corner of the pub where no one would notice me, though at this hour, the pub was empty except for two patrons on the far side of the room. My hood shadowed my face, and every last wisp of my blond hair was carefully tucked out of sight. I faced the door and slowly sipped a mug of warm broth. Gwyneth sat at a well-lit table in the middle of the room. I was only to reveal myself if she gave me a signal and we had to resort to our second plan—me confronting the Chancellor. I was certain she wouldn’t signal. She was dismayed that I had come along at all, but I would have it no other way. She accused me of not trusting her, and maybe the revelation that she had once been a spy did give me pause, but mostly I was afraid to let a single moment slip past when I might be able to help Lia.

He came alone with no entourage or guard to escort him. I watched him approaching through the pub window and nodded to Gwyneth. She seemed not the least bit nervous, but I was coming to understand that Gwyneth was in many ways like Lia. She hid her fears beneath a practiced veneer of steel, but her fears were there, as sure and shaky as my hands trembling in my lap.

He sauntered across the room and sat down across from Gwyneth. His cloak was plain, and he wore none of the usual finery on his fingers. For once, he didn’t want to be noticed. He settled in his chair and looked her over without saying a word. She did the same. I had a clear view of them both. The silence was long and awkward, and I held my breath waiting for one of them to speak, but neither seemed unsettled by the quiet. Finally the Chancellor spoke in a strangely familiar tone, making my skin prickle.

“You look well,” he said.

“I am.”

“And the child?”

Gwyneth’s lips pulled to a straight line. “Stillborn,” she answered.

He nodded and leaned back in his chair, breathing out a long sigh, as if relieved. “Just as well.”

Her coolness turned frigid, and a single brow arched upward. “Yes. For the best.”

“It’s been years,” he said. “You suddenly have information again?”

“I’m in need of funds.”

“Let’s see if your information’s worth anything.”

“Princess Arabella has been abducted.”

He laughed. “You’ll have to do better than that. My sources say she’s dead. She met with an unfortunate accident.”

The mug slipped in my hand, and broth sloshed onto the table. Gwyneth steeled her eyes to ignore me. “Then your sources are wrong,” she said. “She was taken prisoner by an assassin from Venda. He said he was taking her back to his kingdom, but for what purpose I don’t know.”

“Everyone knows Venda doesn’t take prisoners. You’re slipping, Gwyneth. I think we’re done here.” He pushed away from the table and stood to leave.