The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2) - Page 70

“Listen. Are you not getting the results you wanted? Fervor, I think you called it?”

The hall still roared with excitement.

“Well done,” he conceded.

And then a question was shouted from an elder in the back.

“When will the marriage take place?”

The advantage was yet mine. Before the Komizar could answer, I called back to the elder, “At the rise of Hunter’s Moon to honor the clan of Meurasi.” Six days away. Cheers erupted again.

I knew the Komizar had envisioned an immediate execution of the wedding, but now it was not only announced publicly, it was a date that would honor the clans. The girl Meuras was born under a Hunter’s Moon. If he changed the wedding day now, it would be an insult.

The Komizar stood to accept congratulations. Quarterlords and soldiers pressed in, and I lost sight of him, but I saw that at least some of the governors wore wooden smiles, caught off guard by this new development. Perhaps they were unsettled that as Council they hadn’t been consulted, or maybe it was something else: that I would be queen. The Komizar hadn’t even blinked when I said it. If he had balked at anything, I thought it would be that. Vendans do not have royals. But I saw on our hillside rides how he seemed to flaunt it, a princess of the enemy.

A tankard was thrust into my hand, and I turned to thank whoever had delivered it. It was Rafe.

“Congratulations, Princess,” he said.

We were surrounded, our elbows and backs touching others who mingled in the crowded room, pushing us close together.

“Thank you, Emissary.”

“No hard feelings, right?” a nearby governor interjected.

“A mere summer distraction, Governor. I’m sure you’ve had a few of those,” I said pointedly. He laughed and turned to another conversation.

“Just a few days,” Rafe said. “That’s not much time to get so much ready.”

“Vendan weddings are simple, I’m told. A feast cake and witnesses are all that’s required.”

“How lucky for you both.”

The air was brittle between us.

“I’m sorry about your queen,” I said.

He swallowed hard, belying his fiery stare. “Thank you.”

I could see the rage crackling within him. He was a storm ready to tear loose, a warrior far past the point of holding back—weary of being a compliant emissary.

“Your dress is quite striking,” he said. He forced a strained smile to his lips.

The Komizar was suddenly at my side. “Yes, it is. She’s becoming more Vendan every day, isn’t she, Emissary?” He dragged me away before Rafe could answer.

The night wore long, every elder and quarterlord offering regards to the Komizar, but he received quiet, more devious nods from those who had met with him in his clandestine chambers. It was a strategic move and not a real marriage at all, not even a true partnership as the clans would expect.

I watched him slowly grow irritated with the talkative clan being in the hall. These were not truly his people. They spoke of harvest, weather, and feast cakes, not weapons, wars, and power. Their ways were weak, though he reaped his army from their young. Their only common goal was more. For the clans, more food, more future. For the Komizar, more power. For the promises he dangled before them, they gave him loyalty.

It was evident how much he really did need me when he walked away from one elder mid-sentence, his patience spent. He stopped short in front of me, his eyes clouded with wine, and pulled me behind a pillar.

“You must be getting tired. It’s time for us to go.” He called to Ulrix that we were retiring. It drew laughs from those within earshot.

I saw Rafe watching from a distance as if he might spring. I grabbed a fistful of the Komizar’s shirt, yanked him close, and whispered through a razor-tight smile, knowing we were being watched, “I will sleep in my own quarters tonight. If this is to be a marriage, it is to be a real one, and you will wait like all good bridegrooms do.”

The haze of wine was flushed away by his anger. His eyes cut through me. “We both know there’s nothing real about this marriage. You’ll do just as I—”

“Now it’s your turn to think carefully,” I said, returning his glare. “Look around you. See who watches. Which do you desire more? Me or the fervor of your people? Make your choice now, because I promise you—you can’t have both.”

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
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