The_Heart_of_Betrayal_-_Mary_E_Pearson
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For Kate Farrell,
my friend and editor,
and Siarrah of the highest order
Her tears, they ride the wind.
She calls to me,
And all I can do is whisper,
You are strong,
Stronger than your pain,
Stronger than your grief,
Stronger than them.
—The Last Testaments of Gaudrel
CHAPTER ONE
One swift act.
I had thought that was all it would take.
A knife in the gut.
A firm twist for good measure.
But as Venda swallowed me up, as the misshapen walls and hundreds of
curious faces closed in, as I heard the clatter of chains and the bridge
lowering behind me, cutting me off from the rest of the world, I knew my
steps had to be certain.
Flawless.
It was going to take many acts, not just one, every step renegotiated.
Lies would have to be told. Confidences gained. Ugly lines crossed. All of
it patiently woven together, and patience wasn’t my strong suit.
But first, more than anything, I had to find a way to make my heart stop
pummeling my chest. Find my breath. Appear calm. Fear was the blood
scent for wolves. The curious inched closer, peering at me with half-open
mouths that revealed rotten teeth. Were they amused or sneering?
And there was the jingle of skulls. The gathering rattle of dry bones
rippled through the crowd as they jockeyed to get a better look, strings of
small sun-bleached heads, femurs, and teeth waving from their belts as they
pressed forward to see me. And to see Rafe.
I knew he walked shackled somewhere behind me at the end of the
caravan, prisoners, both of us—and Venda didn’t take prisoners. At least
they never had before. We were more than a curiosity. We were the enemy
they had never seen. And that was exactly what they were to me.
We walked past endless jutting turrets, layers of twisted stone walls
blackened with soot and age, slithering like a filthy living beast, a city built
of ruin and whim. The roar of the river faded behind me.
I’ll get us both out of this.
Rafe had to be questioning his promise to me now.
We passed through another set of massive jagged gates, toothy iron bars
mysteriously opening for us as if our arrival was anticipated. Our caravan
grew smaller as groups of soldiers veered in different directions now that
they were home. They disappeared down snaking paths shadowed by tall
walls. The chievdar led what remained of us, and the wagons of booty
jingled in front of me as we walked into the belly of the city. Was Rafe still
somewhere behind me, or had they taken him down one of those miserable
alleyways?
Kaden swung down from his horse and walked beside me. “We’re
almost there.”
A wave of nausea hit me. Walther’s dead, I reminded myself. My
brother is dead. There was nothing more they could take from me. Except
Rafe. I had more than myself to think about now. This changed everything.
“Where is there?” I tried to ask calmly, but my words tripped out hoarse and
uneven.
“We’re going to the Sanctum. Our version of court. Where the leaders
meet.”
“And the Komizar.”
“Let me do the talking, Lia. Just this once. Please, don’t say a word.”
I looked at Kaden. His jaw was tight, and his brows pulled low, as if his
head ached. Was he nervous to greet his own leader? Afraid of what I might
say? Or what the Komizar would do? Would it be considered an act of
treason that he hadn’t killed me as he was ordered? His blond hair hung in
greasy, tired strands well past his shoulders now. His face was slick with oil
and grime. It had been a long time since either of us had seen soap—but
that was the least of our problems.
We approached another gate, this one a towering flat wall of iron
pocked with rivets and slits. Eyes peered through them. I heard shouts from
behind it, and the heavy clang of a bell. It juddered through me, each ring
shivering in my teeth.
Zsu viktara. Stand strong. I forced my chin higher, almost feeling
Reena’s fingertips lifting it. Slowly the wall split in two and the gates rolled
back, permitting our entry into an enormous open area as misshapen and
bleak as the rest of the city. It was bordered on all sides by walls, towers,
and the beginnings of narrow streets that disappeared into shadows.
Winding crenelated walkways loomed above us, each one overtaking and
melting into the next.
The chievdar moved forward, and the wagons piled in behind him.
Guards in the inner court shouted their welcomes, then happily bellowed
approval at the stash of swords and saddles and the glittering tangle of
plunder piled high on the wagons—all that was left of my brother and his
comrades. My throat tightened, for I knew that soon one of them would be
wearing Walther’s baldrick and carrying his sword.
My fingers curled into my palm, but I didn’t even have so much as a
nail left to stab my own skin. All of them were torn to the quick. I rubbed
my raw fingertips, and a fierce ache shook my chest. It caught me by
surprise, this small loss of my nails compared to the enormity of everything
else. It was almost a mocking whisper that I had nothing, not even a
fingernail, to defend myself. All I had was a secret name that seemed as
useless to me right now as the title I was born with. Make it true, Lia, I told
myself. But even as I said the words in my head, I felt my confidence
ebbing. I had far more at stake now than I’d had just a few hours ago. Now
my actions could hurt Rafe too.
Orders were given to unload the ill-gotten treasure and carry it inside,
and boys younger than Eben scurried over with small two-wheeled carts to
the sides of the wagon and helped the guards fill them. The chievdar and his
personal guard dismounted and walked up steps that led to a long corridor.
The boys followed behind, pushing the overflowing carts up a nearby ramp,
their thin arms straining under the weight. Some of the booty in their loads
was still stained with blood.
“That way to Sanctum Hall,” Kaden said, pointing after the boys. Yes,
nervous. I could hear it in his tone. If even he was afraid of the Komizar,
what chance did I have?
I stopped and turned, trying to spot Rafe somewhere back in the line of
soldiers still coming through the gate, but all I could see was Malich
leading his horse, following close behind us. He grinned, his face still
bearing the slash marks from my attack. “Welcome to Venda, Princess,” he
jeered. “I promise you, things will be very different now.”
Kaden pulled me around, keeping me close to his side. “Stay near,” he
whispered. “For your own good.”
Malich laughed, reveling in his threat, but for once, I knew what he said
was true. Everything was different now. More than Malich could even
guess.
CHAPTER TWO
Sanctum Hall was little more than a dismal tavern, albeit a cavernous one.
Four of Berdi’s taverns could have fit within its walls. It smelled of spilled
ale, damp straw, and overindulgence. Columns lined the four sides, and it
was lit with torches and lanterns. The high ceiling was covered in soot, and
an enormous rough wooden table sat heavy and abused in the center. Pewter
tankards rested on the table or swung from meaty fists.
The leaders.
Kaden and I hung back in the shadowed walkway behind the columns,
but the leaders greeted the chievdar and his personal guard with boisterous
shouts and slapping of backs. Tankards were offered and raised to the
returning soldiers with calls to bring more ale. I saw Eben, shorter than
some of the serving boys, lifting a pewter cup to his lips, a returning soldier
the same as the rest. Kaden pushed me slightly behind him in a protective
manner, but I still scanned the room, trying to spot the Komizar, trying to be
ready, prepared for what was to come. Several of the men were huge, like
Griz—some even bigger—and I wondered what kind of creatures, both
human and beast, this strange land produced. I kept my eyes on one of
them. He snarled every word, and the scurrying boys ran a respectful wide
distance around him. I thought that he had to be the Komizar, but I saw
Kaden’s eyes scouring the room too, and they passed over the burly brute.
“These are the Legion of Governors,” he said, as if he had read my
mind. “They rule the provinces.”
Venda had provinces? And a hierarchy too, beyond assassins,
marauders, and an iron-fisted Komizar? The governors were distinguished
from the servants and soldiers by black fur epaulets on their shoulders. The
fur was crowned with a bronze clasp shaped like the bared teeth of an
animal. It made their physiques appear twice as wide and formidable.
The ruckus rose to a deafening roar, echoing off the stone walls and bare
floors. There was only a pile of straw in one corner of the room to absorb
any noise. The boys parked the carts of booty along one row of pillars, and
the governors perused the haul, lifting swords, testing weights, and rubbing
forearms on leather breastplates to polish away dried blood. They examined
the goods as if they were at a marketplace. I saw one of them pick up a
sword inlaid with red jasper on the hilt. Walther’s sword. My foot
automatically moved forward, but I caught myself and forced it back into
place. Not yet.
“Wait here,” Kaden whispered and stepped out of the shadows. I inched
closer to a pillar, trying to get my bearings. I saw three dark hallways that
led into Sanctum Hall in addition to the one we had entered through. Where
did they go, and were they guarded like the one behind me? And most
important, did any of them lead to Rafe?
“Where’s the Komizar?” Kaden asked in Vendan, speaking to no one in
particular, his voice barely cutting through the din.
One governor turned, and then another. The room grew suddenly quiet.
“The Assassin is here,” said an anonymous voice somewhere at the other
end.
There was an uncomfortable pause and then one of the shorter
governors, a stout man with multiple red braids that fell past his shoulders,
barreled forward and threw his arms around Kaden, welcoming him home.
The noise resumed but at a noticeably lower level, and I wondered at the
effect an Assassin’s presence had on them. It reminded me of Malich and
how he had reacted to Kaden on the long trek across the Cam Lanteux.
He’d had blood in his eye and was equally matched, but he’d still backed
down when Kaden stood his ground.
“The Komizar’s been called,” the governor told Kaden. “That is, if he
comes. He’s occupied with—”
“A visitor,” Kaden finished.
The governor laughed. “That she is. The kind of visitor I’d like to
have.”
More governors walked over, and one with a long crooked nose shoved
a tankard in Kaden’s hand. He welcomed him home and berated him for
being gone for so long on holiday. Another governor chided him, saying he
was away from Venda more than he was here.
“I go where the Komizar sends me,” Kaden answered.
One of the other governors, as big as a bull and with a chest just as
wide, lifted his drink in a toast. “As do we all,” he replied and threw back
his head, taking a long careless swig. Ale sloshed out the sides of his mug
and dripped down his beard to the floor. Even this taurine giant hopped
when the Komizar snapped his fingers, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.
Though they spoke only in Vendan, I was able to understand nearly
everything they said. I knew far more than just the choice words of Venda.
Weeks of immersion in their language across the Cam Lanteux had cured
my ignorance.
As Kaden answered their questions about his journey, my gaze became
fixed on another governor pulling a finely tooled baldrick from the cart and
trying to force it around his generous gut. I felt dizzy, sick, and then rage
bubbled up through my veins. I closed my eyes. Not yet. Don’t get yourself
killed in the first ten minutes. That can come later.
I took a deep breath, and when I opened my eyes again, I spotted a face
in the shadows. Someone on the other side of the hall was watching me. I
couldn’t look away. Only a slash of light illuminated his face. His dark eyes
were expressionless, but at the same time compelling, fixed like a wolf
stalking prey, in no hurry to spring, confident. He casually leaned against a
pillar, a younger man than the governors, smooth-faced except for a precise
line of beard at his chin and a thin, carefully clipped mustache. His dark
hair was unkempt, locks curling just above his shoulders. He didn’t wear
the furred epaulets of a governor on his shoulders, nor the leather vestments
of a soldier, only simple tan trousers and a loose white shirt, and he was
certainly in no hurry to attend to anyone, so he wasn’t a servant either. His
eyes moved past me as if bored, and he took in the rest of the scene,
governors pawing through carts and swilling ale. And then Kaden. I saw
him watching Kaden.
Heat rushed through my stomach.
Him.
He stepped out past the pillar into the middle of the room, and with his
first steps, I knew. This was the Komizar.
“Welcome home, comrades!” he called out. The room was instantly
silent. Everyone turned toward the voice, including Kaden. The Komizar
walked slowly across the expanse and anyone in his path moved back. I
stepped out from the shadows to stand by Kaden’s side, and a low rumble
ran through the room.
The Komizar stopped a few feet from us, ignoring me and staring at
Kaden, then finally came forward to embrace him with a genuine welcome.
When he released Kaden and took a step back, he looked at me with a
cool, blank gaze. I couldn’t quite believe that this was the Komizar. His face
was smooth and unwrinkled, a man just a few years older than Walther,
more like an older brother to Kaden than a fearsome leader. He wasn’t
exactly the formidable Dragon of the Song of Venda—the one who drank
blood and stole dreams. His stature was only average, nothing daunting
about him at all except for his unwavering stare.
“What’s this?” he asked in Morrighese almost as flawless as Kaden’s,
nodding his head toward me. A game player. He knew exactly who I was
and wanted to be sure I understood every word.
“Princess Arabella, First Daughter of the House of Morrighan,” Kaden
answered.
Another restrained hush ran through the room. The Komizar chuckled.
“Her? A princess?”
He slowly circled around me, viewing my rags and filth as if in
disbelief. He paused at my side, where the fabric was torn from my
shoulder and the kavah was exposed. He uttered a quiet hmm as if mildly
amused, then ran the back of his finger down the length of my arm. My skin
crawled, but I lifted my chin, as if he were merely an annoying fly buzzing
about the room. He completed his circle until he faced me again. He
grunted. “Not very impressive, is she? But then, most royals aren’t. About
as entrancing as a bowl of week-old mush.”
Only a month ago, I would have jumped at the baited remark, tearing
him to shreds with a few hot words, but now I wanted to do far more than
insult him. I returned his gaze with one of my own, matching his empty
expression blink for blink. He rubbed the back of his hand along the line of
his thin, carefully sculpted beard, studying me.
“It’s been a long journey,” Kaden explained. “A hard one for her.”
The Komizar raised his brows, feigning surprise. “It needn’t have been,”
he said. He raised his voice so the whole hall would be sure to hear, though
his words were still directed at Kaden. “I seem to remember I ordered you
to slice her throat, not bring her back as a pet.”
Tension sparked in the air. No one lifted a tankard to their lips. No one
moved. Perhaps they waited for the Komizar to walk over to the carts, draw
a sword, and send my head rolling down the middle of the room, which
certainly in their eyes was his right. Kaden had defied him.
But there was something between Kaden and the Komizar, something I
still didn’t quite understand. A hold of some sort.
“She has the gift,” Kaden explained. “I thought she’d be more useful to
Venda alive than dead.”
At the mention of the word gift, I saw glances exchanged among the
servants and governors, but still, no one said a word. The Komizar smiled,
at once chilling and magnetic. My neck prickled. This was a man who knew
how to control a room with the lightest touch. He was showing his hand.
Once I knew his strengths, I might discover his weaknesses too. Everyone
had them. Even the feared Komizar.
“The gift!” He laughed and turned to everyone else, expecting them to
laugh in kind. They did.
He looked back to me, the smile gone, then reached out and took my
hand in his. He examined my injuries, his thumb gently skimming the back
of my hand. “Does she have a tongue?”
This time it was Malich who laughed, stepping over to the table in the
center of the room and slamming down his mug. “Like a cackling hyena.
And her bite is just as nasty.” The chievdar spoke up, concurring. Murmurs
rose from the soldiers.
“And yet,” the Komizar said, turning back to me, “she remains silent.”
“Lia,” Kaden whispered, nudging me with his arm, “you can speak.”
I looked at Kaden. He thought I didn’t know that? Did he really think it
was his warning that had silenced me? I had been silenced far too many
times by those who exerted power over me. Not here. My voice would be
heard, but I’d speak when it served my purposes. I betrayed neither word
nor expression. The Komizar and his governors were no different from the
throngs I had passed on my way here. They were curious. A real princess of
Morrighan. I was on display. The Komizar wanted me to perform before
him and his Legion of Governors. Did they expect jewels to spill from my
mouth? More likely, whatever I said would find ridicule, just as my
appearance already had. Or the back of his hand. There were only two
things a man in the Komizar’s position expected, defiance or groveling, and
I was certain that neither would improve my lot.
Though my pulse raced, I didn’t break his gaze. I blinked slowly, as if I
were bored. Yes, Komizar, I’ve already learned your tics.
“Not to worry, my friends,” he said, waving his hand in the air and
dismissing my silence. “There’s so much more to talk about. Like all of
this!” His hand swept the room from one end to the other at the display of
carts. He laughed like he was delighted with the haul. “What do we have?”
He started at one end, going from cart to cart, digging through the plunder. I
noticed that though the governors had searched it, nothing appeared to have
been taken yet. Perhaps they knew to wait until the Komizar chose first. He
lifted a hatchet, running a finger along the blade, nodding as if impressed,
and then moved on to the next cart, drawing out a falchion and swinging it
in front of him. Its sching cut through the air and drew approving
comments. He smiled. “You did well, Chievdar.”
Well? Massacring a whole company of young men?
He tossed the curved blade back into the cart and moved on to the next
one. “And what’s this?” He reached in and pulled out a long strap of leather.
Walther’s baldrick.
Not him. Anyone but him. I felt my knees weaken, and a small noise
escaped my throat. He turned in my direction, holding it up. “The tooling is
exceptional, don’t you think? Look at these vines.” He slowly slid the strap
through his fingers. “And the leather, so buttery. Something fit for a crown
prince, no?” He lifted it over his head and adjusted it across his chest as he
walked back to me, stopping an arm’s length away. “What do you think,
Princess?”
Tears sprang to my eyes. I, too, had foolishly played my hand. I was still
too raw with Walther’s loss to think. I looked away, but he grabbed my jaw,
his fingers gouging into my skin. He forced me to look back at him.
“You see, Princess, this is my kingdom, not yours, and I have ways of
making you speak that you cannot even begin to fathom. You will sing like
a clipped canary if I command it.”
“Komizar.” Kaden’s voice was low and earnest.
He released me and smiled, gently caressing my cheek. “I think the
princess is tired from her long journey. Ulrix, take the princess to the
holding room so she can rest for a moment and Kaden and I can talk. We
have a lot to discuss.” He glanced at Kaden, the first sign of anger flashing
through his eyes.
Kaden looked at me, hesitating, but there was nothing he could do.
“Go,” he said. “It’ll be all right.”
* * *
Once we were out of Kaden’s sight, the guards all but dragged me down the
hallway, their wrist cuffs stabbing into my arms. I still felt the pressure of
the Komizar’s fingers against my face. My jaw throbbed where his fingers
had dug in. In just a few brief minutes, he had perceived something I cared
about deeply and used it to hurt me and, ultimately, weaken me. I had
braced myself to be beaten or whipped, but not for that. The vision still
burned my eyes, my brother’s baldrick proudly splayed across the enemy’s
chest in the cruelest taunt, waiting for me to crumble. And I had.
Round one to the Komizar. He had overtaken me, not with quick
condemnation or brute force, but with stealth and careful observation. I
would have to learn to do the same.
My indignation mounted as the guards jostled me roughly through the
dark hall, seeming to relish having a royal at their mercy. By the time they
stopped at a door, my arms were numb under their grip. They unlocked it
and threw me into a black room. I fell, the rough stone floor cutting into my
knees. I stayed there, stunned and hunched on the ground, breathing in the
musty, foul air. Only three thin shafts of light filtered through vents in the
upper wall opposite me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw a straw-
filled mat, the stuffing spilling out onto the floor, a short milking stool, and
a bucket. Their holding room had all the comforts of a barbaric cell. I
squinted, trying to see more in the dim light, but then I heard a noise. A
shuffle in the corner. I wasn’t alone.
Someone or something else was in the room with me.
Let the stories be heard,
So all generations will know,
The stars bow at the gods’ whisper,
They fall at their bidding,
And only the chosen Remnant,
Found grace in their sight.
—Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. V
CHAPTER THREE
KADEN
“So, you thought she’d be useful.”
He knew the true reason. He knew I disdained the gift as much as he
did, but his contempt for the gift sprang from lack of belief. I had more
compelling reasons.
We sat alone in his private meeting chamber. He leaned back in his
chair, his tented hands tapping his lips. His black eyes rested on me like
cool, polished onyx, betraying no emotion. They rarely did, but if not anger,
I knew at least curiosity lurked behind them. I looked away, gazing instead
at the lush fringed carpet beneath us. A new addition.
“A goodwill gift from the Premier of Reux Lau,” he explained.
“Goodwill? It looks expensive. Since when do the Reux Lau bring us
gifts?” I asked.
“You thought. Let’s get back to that. Is she that good in—”
“No,” I said, standing up. I walked to the window. Wind hissed through
the gaps. “It’s not like that.”
He laughed. “Then tell me how it is.”
I looked back at his table, overflowing with maps, charts, books, and
notes. I was the one who had taught him how to read Morrighese, which
most of these documents were. Tell me how it is. I wasn’t sure myself. I
returned to my chair across from him and explained Lia’s effect on Vendans
as hardened as Griz and Finch. “You know how the clans are, and there are
plenty of hillfolk who still believe. You can’t walk through the jehendra
without seeing a dozen stalls selling talismans. Every other servant here in
the Sanctum wears one or another tucked beneath their shirt and probably
half the soldiers too. If they think the Vendans have somehow been blessed
with one of the gifts of old, one of royal blood even, you might—”
He leaned forward, sweeping papers and maps to the floor with a broad
angry stroke of his arm. “Do you take me for a fool? You betrayed an order
because the backward few of Venda might take her to be a sign? Have you
now appointed yourself Komizar to do what you think to be the wiser
move?”
“I just thought—” I closed my eyes briefly. I had already disobeyed his
order, and now I was making excuses, just as the Morrighese did. “I
hesitated when I went to kill her. I—”
“She caught your fancy, just as I said.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
He leaned back in his chair and shook his head, waving his hand as if it
was of little matter. “So you succumbed to the charms of a woman. Better
that than believing yourself to make better decisions in my stead.” He
pushed his chair back and stood, walking over to a tall footed oil lamp in
the corner of the room, jagged crystals rimming it like a crown. When he
turned the wheel to increase the flame, splinters of light cut across his face.
It was a gift from the Tomack quarterlord and didn’t fit the severity of the
room. He tugged the short hair of his beard, lost in thought, and then his
eyes rested on me once again. “No harm done bringing her here. She’s out
of the hands of Morrighan and Dalbreck, which is all that matters. And yes,
now that she’s here … I’ll decide the best way to use her. The governors’
hushed surprise at a royal in their midst wasn’t lost on me, nor the
whispering of servants when she left.” A half smile played on his lips, and
he rubbed at a smudge on the lantern with his sleeve. “Yes, she might prove
useful¸” he whispered, more to himself than to me, as if warming to the
idea.
He turned, remembering I was still in the room.
“Enjoy your pet for now, but don’t get too attached. The brethren of the
Sanctum aren’t like the hillfolk. We don’t settle into flabby domestic lives.
Remember that. Our brotherhood and Venda always come first. It’s how we
survive. Our countrymen are counting on us. We’re their hope.”
“Of course,” I answered. And it was true. Without the Komizar, even
without Malich, I’d be dead by now. But don’t get too attached? It was too
late for that.
He returned to his desk, shuffling through papers, then stopped to look
at a map and smiled. I knew the smile. He had many. When he had smiled
at Lia, I’d feared the worst. The one on his face now was genuine, a
satisfied smile, meant for no one to see.
“Your plans are going well?”
“Our plans,” he corrected me. “Better than I hoped. I have great things
to show you, but it will have to wait. You made it back just in time before I
ride out tomorrow. The governors of Balwood and Arleston didn’t show.”
“Dead?”
“Most likely for Balwood. Either the sickness of the north country
finally got him or he lost his head to a young usurper too frightened to come
to the Sanctum himself.”
My guess was that Hedwin of Balwood had succumbed to a sword in
the back. Just as he always boasted, he was too mean for the withering
sickness of the north woods to overtake him.
“And Arleston?”
We both knew that Governor Tierny of the southernmost province was
probably lying in a drunken stupor in some brothel on the road to the
Sanctum and would stroll in with apologies featuring lame horses and bad
weather. But his tithe of supplies to the city never wavered. The Komizar
shrugged. “Hot-blooded young men can grow weary of well-oiled
governors.”
As the Komizar had eleven years ago. I looked at him, still every bit the
young man who had slaughtered three governors right before he killed the
previous Komizar of Venda. But he wasn’t so hot-blooded anymore. No,
now his blood ran cool and steady.
“It’s been a long time since there have been any challenges,” I mused.
“No one wants a target on his back, but challenges always come, my
brother, which is why we must never grow lazy.” He shoved the map aside.
“Ride with me tomorrow. I could use some fresh company. We haven’t
ridden together in too long.”
I said nothing, but my expression must have revealed my reluctance.
He shook his head, retracting his invitation. “Of course, you’ve just
returned from a long journey, and besides that you’ve brought Venda a very
interesting prize. You deserve a respite. Rest a few days and then I’ll have
work for you.”
I was thankful that he didn’t mention Lia as the reason. He was being
more gracious than I deserved, but I took note of his emphasis on Venda, a
deliberate reminder of where my loyalties belonged. I stood to leave. A
draft ruffled the papers on his desk.
“A storm brews,” I said.
“The first of many,” he answered. “A new season comes.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I jumped to my feet and searched the shadows of the room, trying to see
what made the noise.
“Here.”
I spun around.
A thin shaft of light took new form as someone stepped forward into its
soft beam.
A dusky strand of hair. A cheekbone. His lips.
I couldn’t move. I stared at him, all I had ever wanted and all I had ever
run from locked in the same room with me.
“Prince Rafferty,” I finally whispered. It was only a name, but its sound
was hard, foreign, and distasteful in my mouth. Prince Jaxon Tyrus
Rafferty.
He shook his head. “Lia…”
His voice shivered through my skin. Everything I had hung on to across
thousands of miles shifted inside me. All the weeks. The days. Him. A
farmer, now turned prince—and a very clever liar. I couldn’t quite grasp it
all. My thoughts were water slipping through my fingers.
He stepped forward, the beam of light shifting to his shoulders, but I had
already seen his face, the guilt. “Lia, I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, Prince Rafferty. You have no idea what I’m thinking. I’m not even
sure what I’m thinking.” All I knew was that even now, as I shivered with
doubt, my blood ran hot, spiking with every word and glance from him, the
same feelings swirling in my belly as when we were in Terravin, as if
nothing had changed. I wanted him desperately and completely.
He stepped forward, and the space between us suddenly vanished, the
heat of his chest meeting mine, his arms strong around me, his lips warm
and soft, every bit as sweet as I remembered. I soaked him in, relieved,
thankful—angry. A farmer’s lips, a prince’s lips—a stranger’s lips. The one
true thing I thought I had was gone.
I pressed closer to him, telling myself that a few lies compared to
everything else didn’t matter. He had risked his life coming here for me. He
was still at terrible risk. Neither of us might survive the night. But it was
there, hard and ugly between us. He had lied. He had manipulated me. To
what purpose? What game was he playing? Was he here for me or for
Princess Arabella? I pushed away. Looked at him. Swung. The hard slap of
my hand on his face rang through the room.
He reached up, rubbing his cheek, turning his head to the side. “I have
to admit, that wasn’t exactly the greeting I envisioned after all those miles
of chasing you across the continent. Can we go back to the kissing part?”
“You lied to me.”
I saw his back stiffen, the posture, the prince, the person he really was.
“I seem to recall it was a mutual endeavor.”
“But you knew who I was all along.”
“Lia—”
“Rafe, this may not seem important to you, but it’s terribly important to
me. I ran from Civica because for once in my life, I wanted to be loved for
who I was—not what I was and not because a piece of paper commanded it.
I could be dead by the end of the day, but with my last dying breath, I need
to know. Who did you really come here for?”
His bewildered expression turned to one of irritation. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“No!” I said. “If I had truly been a tavern maid, would you still have
come? What was my true worth to you? Would you have given me a second
glance if you hadn’t known I was Princess Arabella?”
“Lia, that’s an impossible question. I only went to Terravin because—”
“I was a political embarrassment? A challenge? A curiosity?”
“Yes!” he snapped. “You were all those things! A challenge and an
embarrassment! At first. But then—”
“What if you hadn’t found Princess Arabella at all? What if you’d only
found me, a tavern maid named Lia?”
“Then I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be in Terravin kissing the most
infuriating girl I ever laid my eyes on, and not even two kingdoms could
tear me away.” He stepped closer and hesitantly cradled my face in his
hands. “But the fact is, I came for you, Lia, no matter who or what you are,
and I don’t care what mistakes I made or what mistakes you made. I’d make
every single one again, if that was the only way to be with you.”
His eyes sparked with frustration. “I want to explain everything. I want
to spend a lifetime with you making up for the lies I told, but right now we
don’t have time. They could be back for either of us any minute. We have to
get our stories straight and make our plans.”
A lifetime. My thoughts turned liquid, the warmth of the word lifetime
flooding through me. The hopes and dreams that I had painfully pushed
away surged once more. Of course, he was right. What was most important
was to figure out what we were going to do. I couldn’t stand to watch him
die too. The deaths of Walther and Greta and a whole company of men were
already too much to bear.
“I have help coming,” he said, already moving on. “We just have to hold
out until they get here.” He was confident, sure of himself the way a prince
might be. Or a well-trained soldier. How had I not seen this side of him
before? His troops were coming.
“How many?” I asked.
“Four.”
I felt my hopes rise. “Four thousand?”
His expression sobered. “No. Four.”
“You mean four hundred?”
He shook his head.
“Four? Total?” I repeated.
“Lia, I know how it sounds, but trust me, these four—they’re the best.”
My hope fell as quickly as it had sprung. Four hundred soldiers couldn’t
get us out of here, much less four. I wasn’t able to hide my skepticism, and
a weak laugh escaped my lips. I circled the small room, shaking my head.
“We’re trapped here on this side of a raging river with thousands of people
who hate us. What can four people do?”
“Six,” he corrected. “With you and me, there are six.” His voice was
plaintive, and when he stepped toward me, he winced, holding his ribs.
“What happened?” I asked. “They’ve hurt you.”
“Just a little gift from the guards. They’re not fond of Dalbreck swine.
They made sure I understood that. Several times.” He held his side, taking a
slow shallow breath. “They’re only bruises. I’m all right.”
“No,” I said. “You’re obviously not.” I pushed away his hand and pulled
up his shirt. Even in the dim light, I could see the purple bruises that