The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

Who was he trying to fool? The Council already knew the marriage was a sham and I was only a tool for his gain, but then I realized it was for another purpose. He wanted to show he was not thrown by the Assassin’s attack and that he still had a firm grip on power.

Kissing him when it served me was one thing, but when it served him, it was quite another. I braced myself as his lips met mine, surprised that he was gentle, tender even, but perfunctory on every level. It was an accomplished performance, but then at the last moment, his hand curled into my hair and his lips pressed harder, passionately. I heard the crude laughter around us and felt the color rise at my temples. He finally let go of me, and instead of cold calculation, I saw unsettled desire spark in his eyes. It was the last thing I wanted to see there. I willed the color from my face.

He turned away as if exhilarated and bellowed, “Where’s the food!”

Servants scurried, and we took our seats, but the conspicuous absence of the Assassin hung in the room like a poisonous cloud and kept the normal banter in check. I said the blessing, but before I passed the plate of bones, I took one to keep my hands and eyes occupied, even though my tether already jingled heavy with their weight.

It was a small bone, bleached and dried in the sun as they all were after the cooks buried them in a barrel of meal with beetles so that every scrap of flesh and marrow was eaten away. The larvae of the beetles were used for fishing on a river inlet, which in turn yielded more bones. It was an endless cycle of sacrifice upon sacrifice. I fiddled with the bone, wishing I could wipe away the taste of the Komizar from my lips. I was afraid to look up and meet Rafe’s gaze, because I knew what I would see, the strain spreading like a feverish stain across his face. If I had to watch him day after day kissing a maid or being pulled into her embrace, I would truly go mad.

“You’re not eating, Princess,” the Komizar said.

I reached out and took a slice of turnip and nibbled it to appease him.

“Eat up,” he insisted. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. I wouldn’t want you to grow faint.”

Every day was a big day for the Komizar. No doubt for me it meant more parading through the city or countryside. Curiously, there was only one quarter he hadn’t taken me to—the Tomack quarter in the southernmost part of the city.

The sudden tramping of footsteps echoed through the hall, and much to the Komizar’s dismay, the meal paused—no one wanted to miss the entrance of the Assassin, and all were eager to see if he bore the evidence of a brawl. Everyone present quickly took note that there were multiple footsteps coming toward us. Their hands went from plates to the weapons sheathed at their sides. Protected by the impassable Great River, they surely didn’t fear the enemy without, so they must always be ready for the enemy within. Bloodbaths, as Kaden called them.

Kaden entered from the eastern passageway. Everyone saw what they wanted to see, the evidence of a brawl, if not a challenge. A blue bruise darkened his jaw, and his hand was wrapped in a bandage, but he had no weapon drawn, and they eased back in their seats. It appeared the Komizar had fared better than his Assassin. The odious new governor and his personal guard walked beside Kaden. There was muffled laughter from the end of the table where Malich sat with his smug circle of Rahtan. Kaden made a determined straight shot to the Komizar. “The new governor of Arleston, as you requested,” he said, as if depositing a box of cargo at the Komizar’s feet. He turned briskly to the governor. “Governor Obraun, this is your sovereign. Bend your knee and pledge your allegiance now.”

The governor did as he was told, and before the Komizar could respond, Kaden stepped over between us and leaned with one arm against the table. He seethed fury, and though he whispered, it was still loud enough that those seated near us could hear him. “And you, royal, will sleep in my quarters tonight,” he hissed. “The Komizar said there’s no reason you will not serve us both—and after my long journey, I wish to be served. Do you understand?”

I said nothing, but fire raced across my cheeks. I hadn’t seen him this angry since the night he flung me into the carvachi for attacking Malich. No, tonight he was far more enraged. I had betrayed him personally. I represented every noble of Morrighan meeting all his low expectations, but now, with a few words, he had met mine too. I did not take those kinds of orders from anyone.

I looked at the Komizar and he nodded, indicating he approved this shared arrangement. His eyes smoldered with satisfaction, pleased with his Assassin’s rage directed at me. Kaden pushed away from the table and found an empty seat in the middle across from Rafe. The tension that always sparked between them magnified, their hot gazes fixed on each other for far too long. Rafe couldn’t have heard what Kaden said to me, but maybe my flushed face was all he needed to see. Chairs were slid aside so the new governor and his guard could sit near his sovereign.

The Komizar and governor seemed to connect immediately, but for me their conversation became a blur of sound, disconnected words, laughter, and the clinking of mugs. I watched the governor’s lips move, but Kaden’s words were what I heard. And you, royal, will sleep in my quarters.

“And now you’ll marry enemy swine?” My gaze darted to the governor’s arrogant beady eyes.

I stood and sei

zed a fistful of his jacket, jerking his face close to mine. “If you say ‘enemy swine’ one more time, I will tear the flesh from your face with my bare hands and feed it to the hogs in the stable yard! Do you understand me, Governor?”

The Komizar grabbed my arm and yanked me back to my seat.

Both the governor and his wide-eyed guard looked at me in startled amazement.

“Apologize, Princess,” the Komizar ordered. “The governor is a new loyal member of the Council and has had little time to adjust to the idea of the enemy walking on Vendan soil.”

I glared at him. If my supposed newfound freedoms were to be of any use to me at all, I would have to chip away and snatch them a small piece at a time. “He calls your betrothed swine!” I argued.

“It’s a common phrase we use for the enemy. Apologize.” His fingers dug into my thigh beneath the table.

I looked back at the governor. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Eminence. I would not truly feed your face to the hogs. It might make them sick.”

There was audible sucking of breath, and time seemed to stop, as if these were to be my last seconds on earth, as if I had at last pushed too far. The silence stretched thin and taut, but then, midway down the table, Griz snorted. His boisterous laugh cut through the shocked hush, then Eben and Governor Faiwell joined in with laughter too, and soon the prevailing doom of the moment was washed away by at least half of those at the table joining in at my “jest.”

Governor Obraun, as if he sensed he was caught in the middle of a swift, unexpected squall, laughed too, assuming the insult to be a joke. I smiled to assuage the Komizar, though inside I still raged.

For the rest of the meal, the governor made an exaggerated point to call me the Komizar’s betrothed, which drew more laughter. His guard remained quiet, and I learned he was mute—an odd choice for a guard who might need to sound an alarm—but perhaps he was deaf as well and was the only one able to endure the governor’s ceaseless prattle.

My toes clenched and unclenched inside my boots, and the fires on either end of the hall seemed to burn too hot. Everything inside me itched. Maybe it was knowing that somewhere in this city Jeb and his fellow soldiers were working to find a way out for all of us. Four. It was a number I had scoffed at, but now it seemed like the precious split-second chance I had taken in the face of a stampeding herd of bison. Risky but worth it.

I thought the evening couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong. As they began clearing the platters and I was hoping to leave, a parade of barrow runners began pushing carts into the room.

“Here at last,” the Komizar said as if he knew they were coming. I saw Aster among the runners, struggling with a cart loaded with armor, weapons, and other booty. My stomach dropped. Another patrol had been massacred.