The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

There are no rules when it comes to survival, I reminded myself as I moved toward him. Each step was sharp-edged steel cutting through me, but I took his hand in mine and squeezed it tenderly. Felt his warmth and strength. His uncanny knowing. “Have you considered that maybe I’m trying to view the opportunities right before me,” I said softly, “and I’m not looking for anything else?”

He stared at me for what seemed a lifetime and then his hand tightened on my fingers and he pulled me close. His other hand pressed low on my back, holding me snugly against him, only our breath, time, and secrets between us.

“I hope so,” he finally whispered, and then, with his face only inches from mine, he released me and said it was time to go back.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

RAFE

The water in the basin ran red. I squeezed the rag out and lifted it to my mouth again.

It seemed to be Ulrix who hated me the most. I winced as I dabbed my lip where he had split it, then pressed hard trying to stop the bleeding. Pain radiated across my face.

After the Komizar bid his farewell to me this morning, he sent his oversized brute in with some food, but Ulrix and his henchmen gave me an additional side dish. If every meal came with a bonus like that, I was in trouble. At least they hadn’t aimed for my ribs again. I was sure at least one was cracked. I couldn’t afford more.

It was ironic that all I had wanted was the chance to prove myself as a soldier, and now I was forced to play an untrained and inept emissary when I was matched against brutish clods. Hand combat wasn’t my strongest suit, but I could have taken them down in just a few moves with no one the wiser. Sparing my lip wasn’t worth risking the plan, though. Two years ago, when Tavish and I had disobeyed orders and rescued his brother from an enemy camp, we had played drunken, weaponless bumblers. That deception had to work for only a few minutes before we revealed our true purpose. This one would have to last much longer. This time there were no horses waiting. There was no quick escape. My story had given us time, and I had to continue to make them believe it.

The Komizar had bought into it for now. My proposal had played to his ego. He wanted to believe that a powerful kingdom was at last recognizing him as a worthy ally—that the prince was actually coming to him to negotiate an alliance. He believed he was finally getting the trembling respect he deserved, and who better to get it from than the future king of Dalbreck? He may have feigned suspicion, but I saw the hunger in his eyes when I laid it out. There was only one thing that someone with great power wanted. More of it.

I knew firsthand.

The marriage alliance with Morrighan hadn’t been about protection and strength alone. That may very well have been the least of it. My father and his generals had little respect for the Morrighese army. They considered them weak and favored only by some strategic positions and resources. The alliance had also been a bid for dominance.

My father and his cabinet believed that once we had the beloved First Daughter of Morrighan within our borders, boundaries could be pushed. After acquiring Princess Arabella, the southern port of Piadro in Morrighan was next in their sights, though the cabinet preferred to use the word dowry. Only a small port and a few hills. But for Dalbreck, having a deepwater western port would increase their power tenfold.

It was also a matter of pride. In another time, the port and surrounding lands had belonged to Breck, the exiled prince of Morrighan, banished from the kingdom for challenging his ruling brother. Though countless centuries had passed since then, Dalbreck still wanted it back—some wounds never healed. They saw Lia as a diplomatic inroad to getting what they believed was rightfully theirs without mounting an outright invasion.

When I mentioned the desire for the port to the Komizar, it rang true for him, not just because he knew the port’s value, but because the quest for more power was a hunger he understood. Last night he had fished for details of the court of Dalbreck as if he was already planning for his meeting with the prince. I didn’t take him for a fool, though. He wouldn’t be misled forever. I knew enough of the reputations of Vendan riders, their swift flight, and the way they slipped through borders with ease. It wouldn’t

be long before they returned with news of my father’s good health. Lia and I had to be gone before then. The brute of a fellow who had identified me was a concern, though. Griz, the Komizar had called him. Had he lied for me, or was he truly confused? Maybe he had seen me up on the dais at a ceremony and mistaken me for one of many dignitaries there. He was a loose end that I didn’t feel good about—and he was one mountain of a loose end.

I dropped the rag into the basin and grabbed a dry one. Only a thin smear of blood stained the white cloth when I dabbed my mouth. The flow was stopped, but my lip still throbbed. I walked over to the tall slit of a window, just shy of being wide enough for me to slip through, and I pushed open the shutter. Pigeons fluttered from the wet ledge.

Far below, Venda crawled awake like a lumbering giant. Walls and towers prevented me from seeing much past a few rooftops, but the city appeared to spread for miles. It was far larger than I had expected. I leaned as far forward as the narrow window would allow. Were Sven and the others already slinking down one of those dark streets?

Rafe’s plan’s going to kill us all.

Orrin may have voiced their thoughts, but none of them hesitated to do as I asked. Tavish even whispered before I rode off, We’ve done it before. We can do it again. But that time we had faced only a dozen, not thousands, and none had been the Komizar.

I turned away and paced the room, trying to think of anything but Lia. I looked down at the cuts across my knuckles, my own stupidity. As soon as they had brought me to my room last night and shut the door, I had punched the wall without thinking.

Reckless actions like that were not part of the plan either. Sven would have reprimanded me for acting with my heart instead of my head and putting a potential weapon, my hand, at risk, but it had been all I could do to sit there and act like I didn’t care when Lia kissed Kaden. The only thing that had delayed my reaction was the message I had received loud and clear from Lia—the Komizar watched everything. I knew he was playing us to see how we reacted. Lia’s performance had been stunningly believable. The Komizar had nodded approvingly. But how far did she have to go to convince Kaden too? This morning one of the guards took great pleasure in telling me that Lia was no longer wearing the burlap dress, that Kaden had told the Komizar she had earned a whole wardrobe last night. “The little Morrighese bitch has forgotten her frilly emissary already now that she’s had a taste of Vendan.”

I didn’t punch the wall after he left. I pulled myself up from the floor where he had deposited me, tasting the blood pooling in my mouth, and tried to remind myself that Lia hadn’t asked for any of this. I reminded myself of the look in her eyes when she first saw me before we crossed the bridge, her gaze that tore me sternum to soul, the one that said we were all that mattered, and I promised myself as I spit blood onto the floor, that one day I would see that look in her eyes again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The locks at home had been child’s play compared to this. I had wrestled with this one for the better part of an hour. How many times had I picked the Scholar’s or the Chancellor’s doors or—especially fun for me—the Timekeeper’s, resetting his clock and timepieces? That had especially angered my father, but I’d only done it hoping it would create an extra hour in his day for me. I’d thought he might even appreciate my resourcefulness. He didn’t, but my brothers secretly grinned each time he chastised me. The pride in their faces alone had made it worth it.

But this lock was rusty and stubborn, and a simple hairpin wouldn’t budge it, much less this sliver of tinder, which was the only tool I could find. I wriggled it in the keyhole again, this time a little too enthusiastically, and it broke off.

“Damn!” I threw the broken stub to the ground. So the door wasn’t an option. There were other ways out of a room, perhaps a little riskier, but not impossible. I went to the window again. The ledge outside was walkable, a good ten inches wide. It was a harrowing drop to the ground, but only a couple of yards away, it connected to the top of a wide wall that branched into two different paths that might lead anywhere. Unfortunately, all three of my windows were in plain view of soldiers in the courtyard below, and they seemed to have an unusual interest in looking up here. I had waved to them twice. Before he left, Kaden had told me, “It will be safer for you to stay here.” He had tried to make it sound like he was only trying to keep others out, but it was clear he still didn’t trust that I’d stay put.

I flopped down on the bed. He left me with food and water and the promise to return by nightfall. That was hours away, and I still had no information about Rafe. Where was he? I thought about how the guards had beaten him before, but surely they wouldn’t beat him now that he’d struck a deal with the Komizar. I hoped. I should have risked asking Kaden. I could have worded it in a casual, disinterested way.

“No,” I sighed, and rolled over, nestling into the warmth of the bed. There were only so many things I could safely disguise in my face and voice. For me, Rafe wasn’t one of them. It was safer not to talk of him at all. I’d only arouse Kaden’s suspicions.

I stared vacantly across the room, wondering what sort of matter could occupy so much of his time, but then I noticed something tucked beside one of the trunks. It hadn’t been there before. I sat up, curious. A dusty bedroll? I got up and walked closer. It was mine. My bedroll! And beneath it, my saddlebag!