After a particularly restless night, I went into Rafe’s tent the next morning while he was still dressing. He was in the middle of shaving. I didn’t bother with greetings.

“Rafe, we have to talk about my going to Morrighan to warn them.”

He studied me in the reflection of his mirror and dipped his lathered razor in the basin to rinse it. “Lia, we’ve already talked about this. The Komizar is gravely injured or dead, and the Sanctum is in chaos with more dead. You saw how the Council was, like a pack of hungry dogs. They’re tearing each other apart right now.” He took another swipe at his neck. “And none of those left have the ability to lead any kind of army anyway.”

“For now. We hope. But I can’t take a chance on guesses. I need to go back and—”

“Lia, the bridge is destroyed. They can’t even get across.”

“Bridges can be fixed.”

He dropped the razor in the basin and turned to look at me. “What about the bounty on your head? You can’t just waltz back into Morrighan. We’ll send word. I promise.”

“Word? To whom, Rafe? There are traitors in the cabinet conspiring with the Komizar, and I don’t know how many. I wouldn’t know who to trust, and the Chancellor intercepts—”

He wiped his face with a towel. “Lia, I can’t go back to Morrighan right now. You know that. You’ve seen the turmoil my own kingdom is in. I have to settle things there first. We have time to figure this out.”

He didn’t get what I was trying to say. I knew he couldn’t go to Morrighan with me, but I saw the look in his eyes. He wanted me to trust him. Time felt like precious sips of water slipping through my fingers. His gaze was unwavering, bright, and sure. I nodded. I’d give it a few more days, out of necessity if nothing else. The physician had said Griz couldn’t ride a horse or wield a weapon yet. The long neglect of his wound made it slow to heal, but the healthy flesh was beginning to knit tog

ether—if he was careful and didn’t tear it loose again.

Rafe buckled on his scabbard and gave me a quick kiss before he left. The officers were riding out to observe training exercises. He seemed relieved to be doing something within the realm of his expertise—being a soldier—instead of arguing with Sven or Bodeen about court matters.

I stood in the doorway of his tent watching him walk away, wishing it was simply a matter of sending word to Morrighan, but I knew a messenger from Dalbreck probably wouldn’t even make it past the border alive.

* * *

The next morning, Vilah, Adeline, and Madam Rathbone brought more dresses to my tent trying to find something for me to wear for the party the next evening. After much fussing, they settled on a deep blue velvet dress—Dalbretch blue—with a silver sash. “We’ll put together the other accessories,” Vilah said. “Unless you’d prefer to?”

I left it to them to figure out as Vilah suggested. I liked a beautiful gown as well as anyone, but it was probably obvious to all of them that I didn’t fuss over the particulars of fashion.

“Do you mind if I ask—” Adeline blushed. “Never mind,” she said, shaking away her question.

“Please,” I said. “Speak freely.”

“It seems that you and King Jaxon have genuine feelings for each other, and it just made me wonder…”

“Why did you run from the wedding?” Vilah finished for her.

“They claim it was a deliberate snub planned by Morrighan all along,” Adeline added.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. “That is just bruised egos speaking,” I answered, “and a court full of men who couldn’t believe a girl could derail all their plans. The Morrighese cabinet was just as angry as Dalbreck’s. My departure wasn’t nearly as dramatic as a conspiracy. I simply left of my own accord because I was afraid.”

Adeline twisted the silver sash in her hand. “Afraid of the prince?”

“No,” I sighed. “The prince was probably the least of it. I was afraid of the unknown. I was afraid of the sham and the gift I thought I lacked. I was afraid of all the lost choices I would never be able to make, and that for the rest of my life someone would always be telling me what to do or say or think, even when I had better ideas of my own. I was afraid of never being anything but what suited others and being pushed and prodded until I fit the mold they shoved me into and I forgot who I was and what I wanted. And maybe most of all, I was afraid I would never be loved beyond what a piece of paper had ordered. That’s enough fear to make any girl jump on a horse and ride away, princess or not, don’t you think?”

They stared at me, and I saw the understanding in their eyes. Madam Rathbone nodded. “Enough and then some.”

* * *

I walked, trying to ignore the rattle of the belts and weapons of the guard escort trailing behind me. They reverberated like an entire marching army in the midst of the peaceful marketplace of wagons, but the king’s orders were to be followed to the letter, six guards and not one less. I stopped to check on Dihara first, then went in search of Natiya.

Like Dihara, Natiya had been orphaned when she was a baby. Her parents’ wagon had lost a wheel and tumbled down a mountainside. By some miracle Natiya had been spared, and together the tribe had raised her. Dihara, Reena, they had all been her mothers.

I found her down at the river’s edge, alone, staring at the calm rippling waters, supervising a bevy of fishing lines thrown into the water. The guards hung back, and I sat down beside her, but her focus on the river remained constant, as if it flowed with dreams and memories.

“They told me you were here,” she said, still staring straight ahead.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net