The Beauty of Darkness

by Mary E. Pearson

  His scrutiny was desperate and demanding. “I do understand, Rafe,” I answered. “That’s why I never tried to stop you from going.”

  A reply stalled on his lips, as if I had punched the air from his arguments, then he angrily snapped his reins to move forward again. He couldn’t accept that what was right might also come with a cost to both of us. I heard the creaks and moans of wagons starting to roll again, heard my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Minutes passed, and I wondered if he was acknowledging the allowance I had afforded him that he couldn’t quite give to me.

  Instead, he uttered another complaint. “You’re allowing a dusty old book to control your destiny!”

  A book controlling me? Heat shot to my temples. I shifted in my saddle to face him fully. “Understand this, Your Majesty, there’s been a lot of effort to control my life, but it hasn’t come from books! Look a little further back! A kingdom that betrothed me to an unknown prince controlled my destiny. A Komizar who commandeered my voice controlled my destiny. And a young king who would force protection on me thought he would control my destiny. Make no mistake about it, Rafe. I am choosing my destiny now—not a book, nor a man or a kingdom. If my goals and heart coincide with something in an old dusty book, so be it. I choose to serve this goal, just as you are free to choose yours!” I lowered my voice and added with cold certainty, “I promise you, King Jaxon, if Morrighan falls, Dalbreck will be next, and then every other kingdom on the continent until the Komizar has consumed them all.”

  “They’re only stories, Lia! Myths! You do not have to be the one to do this.”

  “It has to be someone, Rafe! Why not me? Yes, I could turn away and ignore everything in my heart. Leave it to someone else! Maybe hundreds have! But maybe I choose to step forward, instead of stepping back. And how do you explain this?” I asked, angrily pointing to my shoulder where the kavah still lay beneath my shirt.

  He looked at me, his expression unmoved. “The same way you explained it when we first met. It’s a mistake. Little more than the marks of grunting barbarians.”

  I heaved a deliberate, grumbling sigh. He was being impossible. “You’re not even trying to understand.”

  “I don’t want to understand, Lia! And I don’t want you to believe any of it. I want you to come with me.”

  “You’re asking me to ignore what’s happened? Aster took a risk because she wanted a chance for a future for herself and her family. You’re asking me to do less than a small child? I won’t.”

  “Do I need to remind you? Aster is dead.”

  He may as well have added because of you. It was the cruelest blow he could have dealt to me. I was unable to speak.

  He looked down, his mouth pulled in a grimace. “Let’s just ride and not talk before we both say something we’ll regret.”

  My eyes burned with misery. It was already too late for that.

  * * *

  The sun was high, midday, and I knew we had to be getting close to the point where Kaden and I would leave the caravan. Whatever landscape we passed, I saw none of it. My insides were raw—shredded from one end to the other by someone who I had thought loved me. Yes, it was the longest twelve miles of my life.

  Orrin, Jeb, and Tavish rode ahead, and when they pulled out of the caravan, for the first time I noticed that their horses were as heavily laden with supplies as mine was. They stopped about thirty yards away between two low knolls. Kaden joined them. Waiting. And that’s when I understood—they were coming with us.

  I couldn’t bring myself to tell Rafe thank you. I wasn’t even sure if their added presence was protection or a trick.

  He motioned for me to pull off the trail, and we stopped halfway between Kaden and the caravan. We both sat there waiting for the other to speak, seconds stretching as far as the horizon.

  “This is it,” he finally said. His tone was subdued, weary, as if all the fight was gone out of him. “After all we’ve been through, this is where we part ways?”

  I nodded, meeting his stare with silence.

  “You choose a duty you once scorned over me?”

  “I could turn that right back on you,” I answered quietly.

  The blue of his eyes grew deeper, like a bottomless sea, and they threatened to swallow me whole. “I never scorned my duty, Lia. I came to Morrighan to marry you. I sacrificed everything for you. I put my own kingdom at risk—for you.”

  The bloody furrow inside me tore wider. What he said was true. He had risked everything. “Is that my debt to you, Rafe? Do I have to give up all that I am and everything I believe in to pay you back? Is that really who you want me to be?”

  His eyes locked on mine and it seemed there was no air left in the universe. Time stretched impossibly, and he finally looked away. He eyed my pack and weapons—the sword, the knife at my side, the shield, all the supplies he himself had carefully selected. He shook his head as if it wasn’t enough.

  His attention turned toward the waiting trio. “I will not risk their lives again by sending them into a hostile kingdom. Their only duty is to escort you safely back to your border. After that Dalbreck is done with Morrighan. Your fate will be in your own kingdom’s hands, not mine.”

  His horse stamped as if sensing his frustration, and Rafe cast one last look at Kaden. He turned back to me, the anger drained from his face. “You’ve made your choice. It’s for the best, then. We’re each called somewhere else.”

  My stomach turned queasy, and a sick salty taste filled my mouth. I felt him letting go. This was it. I forced myself to nod. “For the best.”

  “Good-bye, Lia. I wish you well.”

  He turned his horse before I could even offer my own last farewell, riding off without so much as a backward glance. I watched him go, his hair blowing in the wind, the shine of his swords glinting in the sun, and a memory flashed in my mind. My dreams rushed back, large and crushing like a wave, the dream I’d had so many times back at the Sanctum—a confirmation of the knowing that I didn’t welcome—Rafe was leaving me. Every detail I had dreamed was now laid out before my eyes, stark and clear: the cold wide sky, Rafe sitting tall on his horse, a fierce warrior dressed in garb I had never seen before—the warrior dress of a Dalbreck soldier with a sword at each side.

  But this wasn’t a dream.

  I wish you well.

  The distant words of an acquaintance, a diplomat, a king.

  And then I lost sight of him somewhere near the front of the caravan where a king should ride.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  We rode hard. I focused on the sky, the hills, the rocks, the trees. I scanned the horizon, the shadows, always watching. I planned. I devised. No moment was left without purpose. No moment left for my mind to steep in dangerous thoughts that would consume me. What if …

  Doubt was a poison I couldn’t afford to sip.

  I rode faster, and the others worked to keep up. The next day, I did the same. I said my remembrances morning and evening without fail, remembering Morrighan’s journey, remembering Gaudrel and Venda, remembering the voices in the valley where I had buried my brother. Every memory was another bead on a necklace strung somewhere inside me. I fingered them, squeezed them, held them, polished them bright and warm. They were the real and true. They had to be.

  And when fatigue washed over me, I remembered more. The easy things. The things that could pull another mile, another ten, out of me and my horse.

  My brother’s face, desolate and weeping as he told me about Greta.

  The shine of Aster’s lifeless eyes.

  The traitorous grins of the scholars in the caverns.

  The Komizar’s promise that it wasn’t over.

  The endless games of courts and kingdoms that traded lives for power.

  Each bead of memory that I added helped me move forward.

  On the first night, when I had unloaded the pack on my horse, the necklace of carefully polished beads suddenly snapped and spilled to the ground. It was the simplest of things that broke it loose. An e
xtra blanket tucked inside the bedroll. A change of riding clothes. An additional belt and knife. They were only the basics for a long journey, but I saw Rafe’s hand behind it all, the way he folded a blanket, the knots he made to secure it. He had chosen and packed each piece himself.

  And then his last words struck me.

  Cruel words. Aster is dead.

  Words that piled on guilt. I sacrificed everything for you.

  Parting words. It’s for the best.

  I had clutched my stomach, and Kaden was immediately at my side. Jeb, Orrin, and Tavish stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I claimed it was only a cramp, and I willed the pain twisting in me into a small hard bead and knotted my resolve with it. It wouldn’t undo me again.

  Kaden reached out. “Lia—”

  I shook him loose. “It’s nothing!” I ran down to the creek and washed my face. Washed my arms. My neck. Washed until my skin shivered with cold. What I left behind would not jeopardize what lay ahead.

  Over the next few days, Jeb, Orrin, and Tavish regarded me carefully. I guessed they were not comfortable with their quest. Before, they had been leading me away from danger, and now they were depositing me on its doorstep.

  In the early evening, when there was still light, I practiced with knife and sword, ax and arrow, not knowing when or where I might need any of them. Since it was his specialty, I enlisted Jeb to teach me the silent art of breaking a neck, and he reluctantly agreed, then showed me more methods to dispatch an enemy without a weapon—though many of those methods were not exactly silent.

  Later, when it was dark and there was nothing left to do but sleep, I listened for the sounds of the Rahtan—howls, footsteps, the sliding of a knife from a sheath. I slept with my dagger on one side of my bedroll and my sword on the other, ready. There was always a thought, a task, another bead to polish and add to my string, and then when there was only silence, I would wait for the veil of darkness to overtake me.

  The one thing I couldn’t control were my moments of restless half sleep, when I rolled over and my arm searched for the warmth of a chest that was no longer there, or my head tried to nestle in the crook of a shoulder that was gone. In that netherworld, I heard words trailing behind me, like wolves stalking their prey, waiting for it to weaken and drop, strings of words that would pounce. How can you not understand? And, maybe worse, the bite of words that were never said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  KADEN

  I knew she was hurting. It had been three days. I wanted to hold her. Make her stop. Slow down. I wanted her to look into my eyes and answer a question I was too afraid to ask. But trying to make Lia do anything right now was the wrong course of action.

  On the first day when she had joined us on the trail and Tavish had asked if she was all right, I had watched her turn to stone. She knew what Tavish was implying, that she was weak or wounded by Rafe’s departure.

  “Your king is where he should be, tending to the needs of his kingdom. And I’m doing what I need to do. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I know he made promises to you about Terravin.”

  She hadn’t answered him. She’d only looked back at the disappearing caravan and tugged on her gloves, flexing and shoving her fingers deeper into them and said, “Let’s ride.”

  Rafe’s expression on that last night when he threw me up against the barracks wall stayed with me. He had been wild with fear—afraid to let her go—but he did. Something I hadn’t done, no matter how many times she’d asked me to free her as we crossed the Cam Lanteux. The thought turned in my head over and over again.

  * * *

  We were camped in a thin scrabble of beech, tucked up close to an outcropping of boulders. A shallow brook ran close by.

  Lia sat off by herself, but not too far from the camp. We all still looked over our shoulders and slept with our weapons ready. We knew there could be more out there. Eben’s account of who he had seen leave the Sanctum, while helpful, could not include who he might not have seen.

  I knew what would come next. Once she finished her remembrances, she would sharpen her knives, check her horse’s hooves for stones, scan the trail behind us, or scratch in the soil with a stick, then erase the marks with her boot. I wondered what she drew. Words? Maps? But when I asked her, she only said, Nothing.

  I had thought this was all I ever wanted. To be with her. On the same side. She’s with you Kaden. That’s all that matters.

  “I’m going to start dinner,” Orrin said, casting a wondering glance Lia’s way. He walked over to the firewood I had gathered and set his spit, spearing the pheasant he’d already gutted and cleaned.

  Tavish returned from washing up in the brook. His thick black ropes of hair dripped with water. He followed my gaze, looking at Lia, and offered a quiet grunt. “I wonder what drill she’ll put one of us through tonight.”

  “She wants to be prepared.”

  “One person alone can’t take on an entire kingdom.”

  “She has us. She’s not alone.”

  “She has you—and that’s not saying a lot. The rest of us turn around once we reach the Morrighese border.” He shook out his hair and pulled his shirt over his head.

  The first few days riding with Rafe’s loyal trio had been tense, but for Lia’s sake, I held back my tongue, and a few times my fist, too. Now they seemed to accept that I wasn’t along to whisk Lia back to Venda and that I had retired my former title of Assassin, at least until Lia was back in Morrighan. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, they were useful too. I knew hundreds of trails along this southern route, but every Rahtan knew them too. These three had surprised me with a few trails that wound through hidden box canyons where I had never traveled before. And with Orrin along, we never had to eat snake. He was able to draw an arrow and bring down game from his saddle while barely slowing his pace. His skill and passion were perfectly matched.

  “Have you noticed,” Tavish asked as he shook out his saddle blanket and hung it over a low branch, “every dusk when she says her remembrances, the wind stirs?”

  I had noticed. And wondered. The air seemed to thicken and come alive, as if she were summoning spirits. “Could just be the natural shift of air as the sun goes down.”

  Tavish’s eyes narrowed. “Could be.”

  “I didn’t think you Dalbretch were the superstitious sort.”

  “I saw it back at the Sanctum too. I was there watching from the shadows, and I heard everything she said. Sometimes it felt like her words were touching my skin, like the breeze was carrying every single one past me. It was a strange thing.” I had never heard Tavish ruminate on anything beyond trails and suspicions of my true motivations, which had almost brought us to blows. He blinked as if catching himself. “My watch,” he said, walking away to relieve Jeb. He stopped after a few steps and turned.

  “Just curious. Is it true you used to be Morrighese?”

  I nodded.

  “That’s where you got all the scars? Not in Venda?”

  “A very long time ago.”

  He eyed me as if trying to figure out how old I must have been.

  “I was eight the first time I was whipped,” I said. “The beatings lasted for a couple of years until I was taken to Venda. It was the Komizar who saved me.”

  “Being the fine fellow that he is.” He studied me, chewing the corner of his lip. This revelation probably didn’t improve his regard for me. “Those are deep scars. I’m guessing you remember every lash. And now you suddenly want to help Morrighan?”

  I leaned back on my elbows and smiled. “Always suspicious, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Tactician. It’s my job.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer one of mine.”

  His chin dipped in agreement, waiting for my question.

  “Why are you really here? Your king could have sent any squad to escort the princess to the border of her kingdom. Why his top officers? Was it only so you could escort her back
to Dalbreck once she came to her senses? And if she didn’t, to force her back?”

  Tavish smiled. “Your answer isn’t so important to me after all,” he said, and left.

  As Tavish walked away, I watched Lia stride toward me, with dusty riding leathers and a smudged face. Three weapons hung from her sides, and she looked more like a soldier than a princess, though in truth, I wasn’t even sure what a princess should look like. She had never fit any image I had conjured of one. Royal. How easily I had disparaged the title when the only nobility I had ever really known was my father, the esteemed Lord Roché of County Düerr. His line went all the way back to Piers, one of the first Holy Guardians, affording him an elevated status and special favor among nobility, if not the gods themselves. My mother had told me of my ancestry once. I had worked hard to forget it and prayed I had gotten all of her blood and none of his.

  Lia paused, lifting Walther’s baldrick over her head and laid it down on her bedroll, then unbuckled her other belt that held two knives, dropping it with the rest of her gear. She stretched her arms overhead as if she was working a knot loose in her back, then surprised me by plopping down beside me. She gazed across the hills and woods that obscured the horizon and setting sun, as if she could see all the miles that still lay ahead of us.

  “No knives to sharpen?” I asked.

  Her cheek dimpled. “Not tonight,” she said, still gazing out at the hills. “I need to rest. We can’t keep this pace up, or the horses will give out before we do.”

  I looked at her skeptically. Jeb and I had said almost those exact same words to her this morning, and she had only answered us both with a scathing look of contempt.

  “What’s changed since this morning?”

  She shrugged. “Pauline and I were terrified when we rode from Civica, but eventually we stopped looking over our shoulders and started looking for the blue bay of Terravin. That’s what I need to do now. Only look forward.”

  “It’s that simple?”