The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2) - Page 33

I watched his angry flush drain away too. He swallowed and gently drew me into his arms, then tenderly, his lips grazed my forehead. “I’m sorry, Lia,” he whispered against it. “I’m so sorry.”

I wasn’t sure if he was sorry for his angry words or that he hadn’t come to me all those months ago when he received my note. Maybe both. His thumb strummed the ridges of my spine. All I wanted was to memorize the feel of his body pressed to mine and erase every word we had just said.

He took my hand and slowly kissed my knuckles one at a time, just as he’d done back in Terravin, but now I thought, This is Prince Jaxon Tyrus Rafferty kissing my hand, and I realized it mattered not one whit to me. He was still the person I had fallen in love with, crown prince or farmer. He was Rafe, and I was Lia, and everything else that we were to other people didn’t matter to us. I didn’t need to fall in love with him again. I had never fallen out.

I slid my hands beneath his vest, feeling the muscles of his back. “They’ll come,” I whispered against his chest. “Your soldiers will come, and we’ll get out of this. Together, just like you said.” I remembered that he’d said two of them spoke the language.

I leaned back so I could see his face. “Do you speak Vendan too?” I asked. “I forgot to find out last night.”

“Only a few words, but I’m catching on to certain ones quickly. Fikatande idaro, tabanych, dakachan wrukash.”

I nodded. “The choice words always come first.”

He chuckled, and his smile transformed his face. My eyes stung. I wanted that smile to stay there forever, but I had to move on to more urgent but bleaker details I needed to share. I told him there were things I had learned that he and his men would need to know.

We sat down opposite each other at the table that held the basin, and I told him everything, from the Komizar’s threats to me after everyone else had left the room, to the stolen cargo down in Council Wing Square, to my conversation with Aster and my suspicion that the patrols were being systematically slaughtered by the Vendan army. They were hiding something. Something important.

Rafe shook his head. “We’ve always had skirmishes with bands of Vendans, but this does seem different. I’ve never seen organized troops like the ones we encountered, but even six hundred armed soldiers is something that can be easily quashed by either of our kingdoms once they know what they’re dealing with.”

“What if there’s more than six hundred?”

He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bristle on his chin. “We haven’t seen any evidence of that, and it takes some level of prosperity to train and support a large army.”

This was tr

ue. Supporting the Morrighese army was a constant drain on the treasury. But even though it brought me some relief to think the army we encountered could be dealt with, I still felt doubt roosting in my gut.

I moved on, telling him about the jehendra, the man who put the talisman around my neck, and the women who measured me for clothes. “They were unusually attentive, Rafe. Kind, even. It was strange in comparison to everyone else. I wonder if maybe they—”

“Like you?”

“No. It’s more than that,” I said, shaking my head. “I think that maybe they wanted to help me. Maybe help us?” I chewed the corner of my lip. “Rafe, there’s something else I haven’t told you.”

He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on me. It reminded me of all the times I swept the inn porches in Terravin and he listened so intently to what I had to say, no matter how large or small it was. “What is it?” he asked.

“When I ran from Civica, I stole something. I was angry, and it was my way of getting back at some members of the cabinet who had pushed the marriage.”

“Jewels? Gold? I don’t think anyone in Venda is going to arrest you for stealing something from their sworn enemy.”

“I don’t think the value of it was monetary. I think it was something they just didn’t want anyone to see—especially me. I stole some documents from the Royal Scholar’s library. One of them was an ancient Vendan text called the Song of Venda.”

He shook his head. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither had I.” I told him Venda was the wife of the first ruler and the kingdom was named for her. I explained that she had told stories and sung songs from the walls of the Sanctum to the people below, but she was said to have gone mad. When her words turned to babble, the ruler had pushed her from the wall to her death below.

“He killed his own wife? Sounds like they were as barbaric then as they are now, but how does this matter to us?”

I hesitated, almost afraid to say the words out loud. “On my way here across the Cam Lanteux, I translated it. It said a dragon would rise, one that fed on the tears of mothers. But it also said someone else would come along to challenge him. Someone named Jezelia.”

His head shifted slightly to the side. “What are you trying to say?”

“Maybe it isn’t chance that I’m here.”

“Because of a name mentioned in an old song by a long-dead madwoman?”

“It’s more than that, Rafe. I saw her,” I blurted out.

His expression changed almost instantly from curious to cautious, as if I’d gone mad too. “You think you saw a dead—”

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
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