The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3) - Page 174

“Yes, I know. I remember. I will always remember.”

His eyes glistened, lingering with a last knowing look, and then he was gone.

I smoothed his hair. I whispered his name. I wiped his face. I rocked him. I held Jeb like he was everyone I’d watched die this past year, all those I hadn’t had time to hold. I didn’t want to let go of any more. And then I buried my face in his neck and sobbed. My fingers wove with his, and I remembered the first time I’d met him, a patty clapper kneeling in my room saying he was there to take me home. A sentry brushed my arm, trying to convince me to let him go, but I pushed him away. For once, I wouldn’t be rushed to say good-bye.

It was the last time I’d cried, no matter how many more bodies we piled to burn or bury. The immensity of the death was numbing. But I knew at some point tears would come again. The pain would take hold of me unexpectedly and throw me to my knees. There were no rules to grief, but there were rules to life, and in those first few days, the requirements of the living demanded I keep going.

There were others—Perry, Marques, the Field Marshal—who hadn’t made it either, others of the officers gravely injured, and still others who had fought just as valiantly and were unscathed. Governors Umbrose and Carzwil were the lone members of the Council who had laid down their arms along with the clans. They had another kind of hope too.

General Draeger was one of the unscathed, and he helped me in the aftermath of battle, sometimes doing the hardest and most heart-wrenching of tasks. We both held down a young Vendan as his mangled arm was cut free from the gears of one of the Komizar’s ill-conceived weapons.

“I owe you an apology,” he said one day as we walked back to camp. “You’re not what I expected.”

“No apology necessary,” I said. “You’re not what I expected either. I thought you’d be a power-mongering, insufferable ass.”

He sucked in a surprised breath. “And now?”

“Instead, I find a man who is passionate and deeply loyal to his kingdom. I admire that greatly, General, but it can be a narrow line to navigate. Sometimes it might lead us to cross boundaries. I know what it feels like to have my choices taken away. I pray no daughter of your kingdom will ever have to fight for her voice to be heard as I have had to.”

He cleared his throat. Apparently my subtlety was lacking. “That’s why you ran from the marriage?” he asked.

“Everyone deserves to be loved, General, and not because a piece of paper commands it. Choice is powerful and can lead to great things if not held in the tight fists of a few.”

* * *

The food supplies the Komizar had stockpiled had mostly survived. They would be enough to get us back to Venda. I met with the clans and wept on their shoulders, and they on mine. Day by day, I felt our resolve growing, knitting together like a broken bone, our shared scar making us stronger. I rejected the title of Komizar, but accepted the one of queen.

And even though my strength and hope grew daily, when we met at the end of the valley to say good-bye to Morrighese and Dalbretch troops, I felt some small part of that hope wither.

I hugged Tavish and Orrin, then Kaden and I shook hands with Generals Howland and Draeger. General Draeger hesitated as if he wanted to say something else to me, but then he only squeezed my hand and wished me well again.

Rafe stepped forward and clasped Kaden’s hand. They said nothing, instead studying each other, and then they exchanged nods as if some words had passed between them.

I stared at Rafe and filled my mind with a hundred memories of what was, so I wouldn’t have to think about what was to come. I thought about the first time he had scowled at me in Berdi’s tavern, the sun slashing across his cheekbones when he came to Devil’s Canyon, his fumbling over words when I asked where he was from, the small heart of sweat on his shirt as he swept webs from the eaves, the curious touch of his finger tracing the kavah on my shoulder, the rage in our voices as we argued right b

efore our first kiss, the tears in his eyes as he lifted me from an icy bank.

But mostly I remembered our few stolen hours when kingdoms didn’t exist for us.

“Lia.”

My memories tumbled away, and the sun was suddenly hot and blinding.

Rafe walked over to me. Kaden and the officers looked on. There was no privacy in this moment, and maybe it was for the best.

“You need to return to your duties in Dalbreck now,” I said. It was a statement, but I know he heard my question laced through it.

He nodded. “And you also have your duties in Venda.”

The same question was hidden in his words.

I nodded. “I’ve made promises, just as you have.”

“Yes. Promises. I know.” He shifted on his feet glancing down for a moment. “We’ll be drawing up the new treaties soon. We’ll send them to you and the other kingdoms.”

“Thank you. Without Dalbreck’s lead, we couldn’t make this happen. I wish you well, King Jaxon.”

He didn’t call me Queen Jezelia, as if he still couldn’t accept either the title or the choice I had made. He had never loved Venda the way I did.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
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