The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

“And everyone’s waiting to see how the Komizar fared,” she said. I stole a sideways glance at her. She chewed on her lower lip.

“Why wouldn’t the Komizar kill him for that?” I asked. “He seems to tolerate no rebellion and holds the threat of death over everyone else.”

“Assassins are dangerous. It’s in his favor to keep Kaden alive. No one knows that better than he does.”

“But if Kaden’s dangerous—”

“He could be replaced by someone more dangerous. Someone not as loyal. There’s a strong bond between them too. They have a long history together.”

“As do you and the Komizar,” I said, digging and hoping for more.

She only replied with a curt “Correct, Princess. As do we.”

The quiet was awkward as I entered Sanctum Hall. Without the usual din, the whole room seemed emptier, or maybe that was just because tonight the clans, quarterlords, and other special guests weren’t filling every available corner. It was only the Council and servants. Rafe was standing at the far end of the table in the center of the room, talking to Eben. It was apparent that neither the Komizar nor Kaden had come in yet.

And then I spotted Venda.

She moved through the room, solid as any of us, her hand running along the table as if she were wiping crumbs from it, as if centuries and a push from a wall were inconsequential to her purpose. No one else seemed to note her presence, and I wondered if they mistook her for a servant. I walked closer, unable to tear my eyes away, fearing she would vanish into mist if I blinked. She smiled when I stopped on the opposite side of the table from her.

“Jezelia,” she said, as if she had said my name a hundred times, as if she had known me from the time I was an infant and the priests lifted me up to the gods.

My eyes stung. “Did you name me?” I asked.

She shook her head. “The universe sang your name to me. I simply sang it back.” She walked around the table until she was just an arm’s length from me. “Every note hit me here,” she said, and she put her fist to her breastbone.

“Did you sing the name to my mother?”

She nodded.

“You sang it to the wrong person. I’m not—”

“It is a way of trust, Jezelia. Do you trust the voice within you?”

It was as if she could read my thoughts. Why me?

She smiled. “It had to be someone. Why not you?”

“For a hundred good reasons. A thousand.”

“The rules of reason build towers that reach past the treetops. The rules of trust build towers that reach past the stars.”

I looked around, wondering if anyone else was listening. Every eye in the Sanctum was riveted on me, glazed with an awe bordering on fear—even Rafe’s eyes. I turned back to Venda, but she was gone.

Me and frightening madness. That was all they witnessed, and I questioned my own sanity. I saw several soldiers pull amulets from beneath their shirts and rub them. It had to be someone. I leaned against the table for support, and Rafe stepped toward me, forgetting himself. I quickly composed myself, standing rigid.

A servant girl shuffled forward timidly. “What did you see, Princess?”

Three chievdars stood just behind her, glaring at the girl for acknowledging any power I held that they did not. Without the clans here, they didn’t need to pretend. I phrased my words carefully, for fear the girl would suffer for her earnest question. “I saw only the stars of the universe, and they shined upon all of you.”

My vague answer seemed to appease the naysayers and believers both, and they went back to their quiet conversations, still awaiting the appearance of the Komizar.

Rafe’s eyes remained on me, and I saw the worry in them. Look away, I prayed, because I couldn’t tear my own gaze free, but then I glanced at his hands, the ones that had gently cradled my face. It would be unfortunate if he began losing fingers prematurely. Convince them.

With everyone watching, I had a large audience to convince. I looked away just as the Komizar entered the hall. “Where’s my betrothed?” he called, though I was plainly in his sight. A servant rushed to fill his hand with a mug, and both Rahtan and governors stepped aside as he walked toward me. “There she is,” he said, as if his eyes had just landed me. I saw the small cut on his neck, and no doubt everyone else did too. “Don’t be concerned, my love,” he said. “Only a nick from shaving. I was perhaps a little too earnest in my desire to be presentable to you.” His eyes danced with warning even as he smiled at me. Say something, was the command I saw in them. Say just the right thing.

“No need to risk your flesh. You’re always presentable to me, sher Komizar.”

“My sweet little bird,” he said and reached out, placing his hand behind my head, drawing me toward him. He whispered against my lips, “Make this good.”