The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

It wasn’t by their own volition they had taken on the task of escorts, as they claimed. I was certain it was by Rafe’s orders. He was trying to shed his own embarrassment about having a parade of anonymous guards follow me. He knew I cared about these three—we had a history together—even if it was short. Nearly losing your lives together had a way of deepening bonds and lengthening time. I studied their faces. No, not guards. Their eyes were filled with the concern of friends, but no doubt if I saddled a horse to leave, they would become something else. They would stop me. Even under the guise of friendship, I was still a prisoner.

I gathered my skirts and got down from the wall. For the first time, I sniffed the scent of roasted meat in the air, and then remembered the lanterns being strung in the lower field earlier today, the canopy set for the head table, silk streamers draped between poles in anticipation of a party eagerly awaited by almost everyone. Jeb fell in by my side, and Tavish and Orrin walked just behind us.

Jeb picked at his shirt. Smoothed the sleeve. Pulled at his collar.

“Say it Jeb,” I told him. “Before you worry holes into your shirt.”

“His throne is being challenged,” he blurted out, voiced like a plea for his friend.

I heard Tavish and Orrin groan behind us, obviously not pleased with Jeb’s loose tongue.

I rolled my eyes, unmoved. “Because of cabinet bickering? What else is new?”

“It’s not the cabinet. One of his generals has begun proceedings to claim the throne.”

A coup d’état? My steps slowed. “So the Dalbreck court has traitors too?”

“The general isn’t a traitor. It’s within his rights. He’s charging Prince Jaxon with abdicating, which everyone knows is a false claim.”

I stopped and faced Jeb. “His mere absence is interpreted as abdication?”

“Not by most, but it could be construed that way, especially with the general bandying even stronger terms around, like desertion. The prince has been gone for months.”

I bristled. “Why didn’t Rafe tell me?”

“Both colonels advised him not to tell anyone. Dissent breeds doubt.”

I wasn’t just anyone, but maybe Rafe didn’t want me to doubt him most of all.

“Now that the general knows Rafe is alive, surely he’ll stop those proceedings.”

Jeb shook his head. “A general tasting power? He probably has an appetite now for the full-course meal. But Rafe has the overwhelming support of the troops. Their respect for him has only grown. It shouldn’t take long to quell the challenge once he arrives back at the palace—but it’s one more worry on his shoulders.”

“And that’s suppose to excuse his behavior of last night?”

“Not excuse,” Tavish said from behind me. “Just to explain it and give you a fuller picture.”

I spun around to face him. “Like the full picture you gave to Rafe when you caught Kaden holding my hand? Maybe everyone in Dalbreck needs to be sure of their information before they run off feeding it to others.”

Tavish nodded, accepting his culpability. “I made a mistake, and I apologize. I only reported what I thought I saw, but news of the challenge comes directly from the cabinet. This is not a mistake.”

“So Dalbreck has a usurper. Is that supposed to sway me? Why are Dalbreck’s worries so much more important than Morrighan’s? The Komizar rages with enough venom to make your general look like a whimpering kitten.”

My patience unraveled. The urgency, the long miles to Morrighan, the temptation to say yes when no still blared in my head, the needs of so many compared to the enormous lack within me—it all picked at every last shred of confidence I had until I felt like a frayed rope ready to snap—the last pull of weight coming from Rafe himself. If the person I loved the most in this world didn’t believe in me, how would anyone else? My eyes stung, and I blinked back any show of weakness. “If anything, you’d think Rafe’s situation would give him empathy and help him understand why I have to get back to Morrighan—but it doesn’t seem he’s given that a passing thought.”

“It’s not his head he’s thinking with,” Tavish said. “It’s his heart. He fears for your safety.”

His words stabbed into my tender underside. “I am not a thing to be protected, Tavish, any more than he is. My choices—and my risks—are my own.”

There was nothing he could say. I was right.

They dropped me off at my tent. Percy and the other soldiers were already stationed there to take over.

“See you soon,” Jeb said, offering a hesitant smile. “First dance.”

“That will be reserved for the king,” Tavish reminded him.

Maybe not. Maybe there would be no dancing at all. At least not between Rafe and me.