The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

He won’t go to Morrighan.

But that won’t stop her.

Something warm slivered into me.

I felt hope again.

He didn’t know her like I did.

There were a lot of things he didn’t know.

There was even the possibility that Lia was using him the way she had used me.

That same thought tumbled into another.

There were also things she didn’t know about him, and maybe it was time she found out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Night fell early, and I heard a distant hum. A song? Was it possible their eventide passed here with remembrances of the girl Morrighan too? It didn’t seem likely, and yet we had all sprung from the same beginnings. How far had those beginnings diverged? The night tugged at me, a quiet pull I wanted to give in to, yet the golden lit windows of the officer’s dining room lay ahead.

I followed Madam Rathbone up the steps of a large wooden structure with a wide veranda all the way around it.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm. “I need a moment.”

A furrow lined her brow. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know,” I said, slightly breathless. “I’ll be right in. Please.”

She left and I turned, bracing myself against the railing.

I had always faced others’ expectations, usually with little patience, snapping at the cabinet who pressured me in one way or another, but now I had to deal with another kind of expectation that I didn’t fully understand. It was mired in complications, and I wasn’t sure how to navigate them. Your future queen. When I walked through the door of the dining room, that was what they would see. I had told Kaden that I would somehow make it all work, but I knew I couldn’t. It was impossible. Someone always came out on the losing end. I didn’t want it to be me and Rafe.

I looked to the western sky and its constellations: Aster’s Diamonds, God’s Goblet, and Dragon’s Tail. The stars that hovered over Morrighan. I kissed my fingers and lifted them to the heavens, to home, to those I had left behind, to everyone I loved, including the dead. “Enade meunter ijotande,” I whispered, then turned and pushed open the door of the dining room.

Rafe was the first person I saw, and I secretly thanked the gods, because it made my heart weightless, soaring somewhere high and free. He stood when he saw me, and the look in his eyes made me grateful for Madam Rathbone’s, Adeline’s, and Vilah’s efforts. They had chosen well. His gaze made my heart settle back down, now warm and full in my chest.

I looked past officers, wives, and whoever else was there, to where he stood at the end of the long dining room table, mesmerized. It was the first time I had ever seen Rafe dressed in his own kingdom’s clothing. It was strangely unnerving, a confirmation of who he really was. He wore a deep blue officer’s tunic over a loose black shirt, and a dark leather baldrick embossed with Dalbreck’s crest crossed his chest. His hair had been trimmed, and his face gleamed with a close shave.

I sensed heads turning, but I kept my eyes locked on Rafe, and my feet glided over the floor to his side. This was it. I had no understanding of Dalbreck’s formal customs. The Royal Scholar had tried to school me in the most basic of greetings, but I had skipped his lessons. Rafe held his hand out to me, and when I took it, I was shocked that he pulled me close and kissed me in front of everyone. A long, scandalous kiss. I felt color rush to my cheeks. If this was a custom, I liked it.

When I turned to face the rest of the guests, it was quite apparent this sort of greeting was not standard protocol. Some of the ladies had color on their cheeks too, and Sven’s hand rested over his mouth as if he was trying to conceal a frown.

“My compliments and gratitude, Madam Rathbone,” Rafe said, “for taking such good care of the princess.” He unclasped the fur cape around my shoulders and handed it to a servant. I sat in a chair next to him, and that was when I took in exactly who was present. Sven, Tavish, and Orrin were all dressed in the deep Dalbretch blues as well, their appearances transformed with a razor, soap, and crisply pressed clothes—officers in the powerful army that Sven had told me the history of so proudly. Sven, like Colonel Bodeen, who sat at the opposite end, wore a gold braid on his shoulder too. There was nothing to distinguish Rafe and his position, but they certainly didn’t keep the trimmings of a king on hand at an outpost.

Colonel Bodeen jumped in with introductions. Greetings were cordial but reserved, and then servants brought in the first of many courses served on small white porcelain plates—warm goat cheese balls rolled in herbs; finger-size rolls of chopped meat wrapped in thin strips of smoked pork; fried flat breads shaped into bite-size bowls and filled with warm spiced beans. Each course was served on a fresh plate, and we hadn’t even gotten to the main course yet. You’ll see.

Yes, I saw, though I was sure Colonel Bodeen was setting a more extravagant table tonight, to honor not only their returned comrades, but the king they had thought was lost. Jeb’s absence was due to the physician’s orders for rest. No one else seemed to notice that Griz and Kaden weren’t present, though I was certain they would both have been extremely uncomfortable at the table. At times I felt I was in a dreamlike fog. Only this morning we had been on the backs of horses fighting for our lives, and now I was navigating a sea of porcelain, silver, glowing candelabras, and a thousand tinkling glasses. Everything seemed brighter and louder than it was.

It was a celebratory evening and I noted the effort to keep conversation light. Colonel Bodeen brought out his revered red-eye and poured Sven a glass. He announced that another celebration was in the works that would include the entire outpost. It would give all the soldiers a chance to toast their new king and—Colonel Bodeen added hesitantly—their future queen.

“Marabella parties are unmatched,” Vilah said with excitement.

“It lifts spirits,” Bodeen added.

“And there’s dancing,” Madam Rathbone said.

I assured them all I was eager to partake.