The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

I let go of his tunic, shoving him back in his seat. “My father has passed. I’m king now—and I’ve yet to behead anyone in my new capacity, though I’m eager to see what it’s like.”

I stared, pinning him to his seat, then looked at the rest of the cabinet, scanning as Lia had done, wondering which hand had struck her, which had torn the shirt from her back, and worse, which of her own had betrayed her and every other kingdom on the continent by conspiring with the Komizar, trading our lives for their greed. Other than the Chancellor and the Watch Captain, the rest had remained curiously silent, and I found their quiet brooding just as disturbing as the outbursts. They plotted.

I looked at Lia. “Speak, Princess. You have the floor as long as you like.”

She smiled, a frightening hardness to her lips. “The floor,” she repeated savoring the words as she turned, her arms held out to her sides. “Forgive me, esteemed ministers for the state of my”—she looked down at her bloodstained clothes, then at her exposed shoulder—“my appearance. I know it doesn’t follow court protocol. But there’s some comfort in it too, I suppose. Beaten and scorned, she will expose the wicked. She paused, the smile slipping from her face. “Do those words frighten you? They should.”

She turned, her gaze traveling over the lords, then she stopped and looked up at the empty gallery. Every eye followed her stare. The silence grew long and uncomfortable, but for now the memory of her knife flying across the room seemed to keep their tongues quiet. My pulse raced, and Tavish and I exchanged a worried glance. She seemed to have forgotten where we were or what she was doing. I followed her gaze. There was nothing there. Nothing, at least, that I could see.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

The air changed, hanging above us, the color soft and muted, like aged parchment. The room grew larger, dreamlike, becoming a distant world where a fourteen-year-old girl charged with her brothers by her side. More who believed in her followed close behind. They were all dead now, killed on a nameless battlefield. Walther whispered, Be careful, sister.

I heard the girl yell that no one should move, and she promised they wouldn’t be hurt. She knew that wasn’t true. Some would die, though she didn’t know which ones or when, but their deaths already clouded behind her eyes. She saw two men charging with her, watching, turning, archers flanking her with arrows drawn. And then her eyes landed on the cabinet, the faces, the empty seat of her father. The air snapped sharp, the colors brilliant, and fear vibrated against the walls in waves. The girl was gone. It was only me. Facing them. And today, no one would be banishing me to my chamber.

The Viceregent, the Chancellor, the Watch Captain, the Trademaster, the court physician, the Timekeeper, the Field Marshal, the Huntmaster, and of course, the Royal Scholar, who looked the most troubled of all by the turn of events. Notably absent was the First Daughter and the king himself, but one of them would be here soon. The Timekeeper fiddled nervously with the buttons on his jacket, pulling and fretting until one popped off. It clattered to the floor, rolling across the polished stone.

I knew who the mastermind behind this was, the architect who craved power just as much as the Komizar. Maybe even more, risking everything for the whole prize—the continent. I looked at him, slow and steady. It was obvious now. The scales of his true nature gleamed beneath his robe. The dragon who had as many faces as the Komizar.

When the Chancellor disobeyed the first of my orders, my dagger flew. It took all of my will not to aim straight for his heart. In my days crossing the Cam Lanteux, every time I practiced throwing my knife into the trunk of a tree, I had marked his heart as the target in my mind’s eye, but his death would come later. For now he might still be of some use to me, and I would use every piece of him, finger by finger, if that was what it took to save my brothers.

He sat but seethed, now throwing insults at Rafe.

I watched him and the others, one by one, down the line—for a conspiracy was only as good as its weakest link—and now that link was being tested.

The citadelle closed in, contracting, squeezing the treachery into something hard and alive, its heartbeat wild, resisting, its beastly roar echoing, but beneath it all I heard another sound, a fragile thrum as persistent as hope, and I saw someone step out on the balcony.

It was a girl. She leaned over the rail, her wide dark eyes fixed on mine. Promise, she said.

I nodded. “I promised long ago.”

And then she was gone, the world shifting, the air sharp and bright again.

The lords waited, their attention whittled to a point, ready to snap.

I told them of traitors in their midst, of dragons with unquenchable thirst, and still another, the Komizar of Venda, who was on his way here with an unstoppable army to destroy them all, helped by the same traitors who had sent Crown Prince Walther to his death. “I ran from the wedding because I was afraid, but I did not betray Morrighan, and I did not betray my brother. I watched him die, but at the hands of Vendans who were lying in wait for him. He was sent into an ambush by traitors here in this room. The same ones who have sent Princes Regan and Bryn to die.”

The Royal Scholar leaned forward. “Wouldn’t this be better discussed in—”

But the Viceregent cut him off, holding up his hand. “Let’s not interrupt the princess. Let her have her say. We can give her that much.” He eyed me as if recalling every word we had spoken in his office. Do you have any evidence? He knew my word wasn’t enough.

I glared, slow and steady, at the Royal Scholar, a warning—your time will come—and turned to the Field Marshal, who was the cabinet liaison to the troops. “My brothers need to be tracked down and brought home immediately. With my father ill, they never should have been sent away to Gitos and Cortenai in the first place. How do you explain this flagrant breach of protocol, Lord Commander?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and shot a hard glance at the Watch Captain. The Royal Scholar watched them all as if ready to jump from his seat.

“I didn’t want to send them,” he answered, a scowl darkening his face. “In fact, I argued against it. But I was swayed to believe it was for the good of the realm.”

“And your brothers heartily agreed,” the Watch Captain added.

I stormed across the dais, slamming my sword onto the table inches from his hand. “They agreed to be slaughtered?”

The Watch Captain gawked at his hand as if making sure all his fingers were still there. His gaze shot back to me, his eyes glowing with anger. “The girl is insane!” he shouted to Rafe’s soldiers standing near him. “Lay down your weapons before she gets you all killed!”

The rumble of footsteps echoed in the south hall, the vibration of a hundred boots pounding toward us. Soldiers had been alerted. I looked back at the cabinet.

The Dragon.

A smile.