The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3) - Page 108
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
RAFE
“She’s holed up in a little cottage not far from the citadelle with three women and Kaden. A vagabond girl too,” Tavish said.
“You disobeyed orders.”
Jeb grinned. “You knew we would.”
“And you’re glad we did,” Orrin added.
“What are those for?” Jeb asked, nodding toward the handler and three caged Valsprey.
“In case things don’t go well for us. A parting gift from General Draeger. He insisted on them. He doesn’t want us to fall off the edge of the continent again without any word.”
Tavish surveyed the details of our company with a suspicious eye and turned to Captain Azia, perhaps figuring he’d get more information out of him. “How’d you get so many horses with Morrighese tack?”
Sven cleared his throat, preempting an answer from Azia. I knew the question created as sour a taste on his tongue as it did mine. “It’s a long story,” he answered.
“I’ll explain later,” I told Tavish. “Ride back and tell the rest it’s time to split off to the eastern and northern roads into the city. And to stay in groups of no more than three or four. We can’t all descend into the city at once.”
We were farmers, merchants, tradesmen, not a battalion of a hundred armed soldiers. At least that was what we wanted them to think.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Heave.
Heave.
I threw off my blanket and sat up, my skin hot and cold all at once. The synchronized chants, the squeal of gears, the sickening metallic clang still rang in my ears. I looked around, reassuring myself that I was still in the cottage. It was dark and silent except for Berdi’s gentle snores. Only a dream, I told myself and lay down, struggling to get back to sleep. I finally dozed in the pre-dawn hours, then slept late, but when I finally woke, I knew—the sounds and chants were real. The bridge was fixed. They were coming.
I looked around. The cottage was empty except for Gwyneth dozing in the rocker with the baby in her arms. I noticed that the melody of drips falling into buckets and bowls had stopped at last. Finally I could slip back into town. The streets would be busy again and I could pass unnoticed—and Bryn and Regan could be back. I quietly dressed, putting on my protective riding leathers and strapping on every weapon I had. If all went well, I might be leading my brothers and their comrades into Aldrid Hall by this afternoon. First I’d scour the citadelle one last time for evidence, but with the bridge fixed, confronting the cabinet couldn’t wait any longer. I threw on my cloak and tiptoed quietly outside to find the others. I found Pauline at the end of the porch, lifting a crate and hanging it from a nail on a porch timber.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?”
“I had a baby, Lia, not an accident. I’m actually feeling quite well. First time I haven’t had a foot pressing on my bladder in weeks. Besides, cleaning a crate is easy enough work. Kaden got it for me from the mill. He just went back over there to let out the animals. The oats are gone. They need to graze.”
I hoped that was all he was doing. I knew he still wanted to confront his father.
I looked around, walking to the other end of the porch. “Where about Berdi and Natiya? Where are they?”
“They went to town while there was a break in the weather for more supplies.” She ran her hand along one side of the crate. “It will make a decent enough cradle for now—at least when there aren’t arms to hold the baby.”
“It seems there will always be plenty of those available. Gwyneth has hardly let the baby out of her grip.”
Pauline sighed. “I noticed. I hope it’s not painful for her. I’m sure it stirs memories in her of all the times she didn’t get to hold her own baby.”
“She told you?” I asked, surprised that Gwyneth had shared what I’d thought was a closely guarded secret. I had only guessed because I’d seen the way she looked at Simone back in Terravin. A tenderness had sprung to her face that she had for no one else.
“About Simone?” Pauline shook her head. “No, she refuses to talk about it. She loves that little girl more than air itself, but at the same time, that love is what grips her with fear. I think that’s why she keeps her distance.”
“Fear of what?”
“She desperately doesn’t want the father to find out that Simone even exists. He’s not a good man.”
“She told you who he was?”
“Not exactly. But Gwyneth and I have found this strange place of truth. There’s a lot that we share without ever saying a word.” She untied her damp apron and hung it to dry beside the crate. “The Chancellor is Simone’s father.”
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