The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

I didn’t feel the pain right away. I stared at the floor, a blurry sideways view, my cheek still pressed to the stone, the stench of spilled ale rising up to me. Then I heard the Komizar yell for me to get up.

It was mid-morning, and I had been taking a late breakfast in Sanctum Hall due to last-minute early morning fittings. Calantha and two guards were there with me when we heard sharp footsteps coming down the south corridor. The Komizar stormed in and ordered everyone else out.

I tried to get my bearings, to focus on the tilting room.

“Get up! Now!” he ordered.

I pushed up from the floor, and that’s when the pain hit. My skull throbbed like a giant fist was crushing it. I forced myself to stand and steadied myself against the table. The Komizar was smiling. He stepped forward, gently touched the cheek he had just struck, then hit me again. I braced myself this time and only stumbled, but my neck felt as though it were snapping in two. I faced him, squaring my shoulders, and felt something warm and wet trickle on my cheek.

“Good morning to you too, sher Komizar.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I feigned confusion.

“I told you precisely what to say, and yet you told stories of dead sisters and dragons waking from sleep?”

“They like to hear stories of their kingdom’s namesake. It’s what they wanted to hear,” I answered.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me toward him. His eyes danced with fury. “I don’t care what they want! I care about what they need to hear! I care about my orders to you! And

I don’t care if the gods themselves hand delivered their words to you in golden goblets! All your drivel about listening without ears, seeing without eyes doesn’t matter. The guards laughed out every word to me—but not one mention of battles and victory! That is what matters, Princess! That is all that matters.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Komizar. I was carried away in the moment by the kindnesses of the people and their earnest desire for a story. I’ll be sure to tell yours next time.”

He looked at me, his chest still heaving. He reached up and wiped my cheekbone, then rubbed the blood between his fingers.

“You’ll tell Kaden you tripped on the stairs. Say it.”

“I tripped on the stairs.”

“That’s better, my little bird.” He rubbed the blood on his finger across my lower lip, and then bent to kiss me, pushing the salty taste of my own blood onto my tongue.

* * *

Calantha and the guard didn’t speak as they led me back to my room, but before she turned to leave, she paused to eye my face. A short while later, a basin of water with herbs floating on top was delivered to my room by a servant. The girl also brought a slice of soft, fleshy root. “For your face,” she said beneath lowered lashes and hurried away before I could ask who sent it, but I could guess it was Calantha. This offense had hit a little too close to home.

I dipped a soft cloth in the water and dabbed it to my cheek to clean the wound. I winced at the sting. I had no mirror, but I could feel the bruise and the burning scrape from hitting the floor. I closed my eyes and held the soaked fabric to my skin. It was worth it. Every word I spoke was worth it. I couldn’t leave them without some kind of knowing of their own. I saw it in their faces, weighing my words and what they might mean. I had pushed as far as I dared, for not everyone in the square had come to hear what I had to say. Some were there to report it. I had seen the Sanctum guards and the quarterlords not only scrutinizing me, but also watching those who had gathered to listen.

I picked up the piece of root the girl had brought and sniffed it. Thannis. Was there nothing this lowly weed couldn’t do? I held it to the wound and felt it soothe the throb.

Across the room, my gaze landed on the wedding dress laid across Kaden’s trunk. It had been finished with little time to spare. Hunter’s Moon was tomorrow. The wedding was to begin at twilight as the moon rose over the foothills. There would be no processions, no flowers, no priests, no parties, none of the fanfare that accompanied a wedding in Morrighan. Vendan wedding traditions were simple, and witnesses were the greatest requirement. It would take place on the eastern wall walk overlooking Hawk’s Pavilion. A volunteer chosen by the Komizar would tie our wrists together with a red ribbon. When we raised our tied hands before them displaying our union, the witnesses would call back a blessing—bound by earth, bound by the heavens—and that would be it. The feast cake of dried fruits that would follow was the greatest luxury, but the simplicity didn’t make the anticipation any less feverish. The Hunter’s Moon and my extravagant red clan dress were embellishments that added to the fervor. I walked over and touched the gown, so carefully pieced together, a dress of many hands and many households. A dress of welcoming, not of good-byes. A dress of staying, not leaving.

Was this to be my end? Forever a hostage of one kingdom and despised by the others? I wondered if Vendan riders were already in Morrighan spreading the news of my ultimate betrayal to my countrymen. I pictured those who would curse me—the cabinet, the Royal Guard, my mother and father. I closed my eyes trying to hold back tears. But certainly not my own brothers or Pauline. A sob jumped to my throat.

This wasn’t the story I had written for myself. Not the story of Terravin and salty breezes and love. I crushed the fabric in my fist and held it to my face, staining the hem with the deeper red of my own blood. With Pauline’s image still looming in my thoughts, a more horrible worry overtook me—no one in Morrighan would be considering my traitorous act for long because they would either be on this side of hell scrabbling for roaches and rats to fill their bellies or they would be dead.

The Komizar’s success seemed assured—unless I could somehow get word to them. Kaden’s promise to protect Berdi, Gwyneth, and Pauline was not enough. All of Terravin wasn’t enough. There were so many more in Morrighan, and none of them deserved this end. The Komizar had mentioned one last winter. That must mean they wouldn’t march until after that? When? Spring? Summer? How much time did Morrighan have? Not much more than I did.

I jumped when I heard a knock at my door. I wanted no more surprises, and cautiously cracked it open.

It was Calantha. “I have another towel for you.” She moved aside. “And I brought this.”

Rafe stepped into view.

Blood pooled cold at my feet. Was this a trap?

“I may have only one eye,” Calantha said, “but I perceive far more with one than most do with two. I’ve dismissed the guards at the end of the hall to see to another matter, and the Council is still in session. You have fifteen minutes before the guards return to their post. No more. I’ll be back before then.” She set the towel she had brought down on my bed and left.