The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

He was young, only Rafe’s age, a soldier not unlike any of my brothers. Beneath the ragged clothes and dirt, I saw a sweetness. In fact, he reminded me of Bryn, a smile always tugging at the corner of his mouth. Maybe a sister waited at home for him to return.

I blinked back tears. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I am so very sorry.”

His brow creased with alarm. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Your Highness.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

He placed both his hands gently on my shoulders. “You were abducted by a hostile nation, and my prince called me to duty. He’s not a man prone to folly. I would do anything he asked, and I see his judgment was true. You’re everything he said you were.” His expression turned solemn. “I’d never seen him so driven as when we raced across the Cam Lanteux. You need to know, Princess, he didn’t mean to deceive you. It tore at him.”

It was those words that undid me, in front of Jeb of all people, a near perfect stranger, and I finally broke down. I fell into his shoulder, forgetting that I should be embarrassed, and sobbed. He held me, patted my back, and whispered, “It’s all right.”

I finally pushed away and wiped my eyes. I looked at him, expecting to see his own embarrassment, but instead I only saw concern in his eyes. “You have a sister, don’t you?” I asked.

“Three,” he answered.

“I could tell. Maybe that’s why I—” I shook my head. “I don’t want you to think I do this a lot.”

“Cry? Or get abducted?”

I smiled. “Both.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “You have to promise me something. When the time comes, watch Rafe’s back before mine. Make sure he gets out, and your fellow soldiers. Because I couldn’t bear it if—”

He put his finger to his lips. “Shh. We’ll all watch one another’s back. We’ll all get out.” He stood. “If you see me again, pretend not to know me. Patty clappers are not memorable.”

He gathered his cart, tossing a few patties into the hearth box, and flashed me a mischievous smile over his shoulder as he left, glib and cocky, shrugging off the dangers. So much like Bryn. This patty clapper was one I would never forget.

A terrible greatness

Rolled across the land,

A tempest of dust and fire and reckoning,

Absolute in its power,

Devouring man and beast,

Field and flower,

All that dared to be in its path.

And the cries of the snared

Filled the heavens with tears.

—Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. II

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Sanctum Hall was decidedly quieter tonight. I could sense it even from a distance as we walked down the corridor. The revelry usually rolled across the stone floor to meet us. Not tonight.

I wanted to fish and see if Calantha had any suspicions of who she had sent up to my room, but she said nothing, so neither did I. I didn’t want to raise questions and mistrust where there was none.

As we got closer to the hall, the silence was palpable. “They fought, didn’t they?” I asked.

“That is the word,” Cala

ntha answered.

“I saw a cut on Kaden’s hand.”