The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3) - Page 155

Guards trampled down the stairs, Lia right behind them. “They’ve escaped!” I yelled. “Call a physican! Sven is still alive!”

But barely. I pressed on the wound. “Come on, you old curd! Stay with us!”

“Close the city gates!” Lia shouted. “Alert the guard and camp!”

She dropped to my side and helped me press on the wound, but it seemed there was no way to stop it. Blood oozed through our fingers. Kaden ran down the stairs, taking in the grisly scene. He pushed past us, his sword drawn.

“They’re gone,” I said. “I should have let you kill the bastard when you had the chance.”

I pulled off my jacket and used it to help stop the bleeding. Lia’s and my hands were both soaked with blood.

“Stay with him until the physician comes,” I told her. “Don’t let him go!”

And I ran up the stairs to hunt down the animals who had done this.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

Every corner, every tunnel, every passage, every ledge and chamber in the citadelle was searched. Rafe, Kaden, and I—along with hundreds of soldiers—were up all night, scouring the city, door to door, sewer to sewer, rooftop to rooftop. Civica was locked down, even as it came alive with torches. The search went past city gates into the surrounding hamlets. Not a single clue or missing horse was found. They had vanished. Trackers were dispatched.

The prisoners’ empty cells turned up piles of dirt and empty wooden boxes—weapons that had been buried long ago, a backup escape plan in the event they were ever found out. Now I understood why they had risked dragging me in the open all the way to the armory instead of imprisoning me here. They feared I would sense their secret stash. Even with the weapons stowed, they had bided their time, waiting for the right moment. For turning on the Viceregent, the court physician had paid the ultimate price.

Kaden, Pauline, and I waited outside Sven’s chambers. Rafe was inside with the physician. The day had raced away from us and night was closing in again. None of us had slept more than a few hours this afternoon.

“I should have killed him,” Kaden said, shaking his head. “I should have done it when I had the chance.”

But the blame lay with me. I’d stayed the execution, thinking one of them might break, one might turn like the physician had and give us information that might be useful. And if the Viceregent feared a painful death, he might break himself and tell me something that would help my brothers. I had played the Komizar’s game, trying to find the best use for prisoners under my thumb. But I had lost.

Now four men were dead, Sven was fighting for his life, and the traitors were free, probably on their way to join the Komizar and tell him I was ruling Morrighan now.

Berdi and Gwyneth had taken over arranging for a proper Dalbretch funeral for the dead soldiers, including Captain Azia. We had little experience with funeral pyres, but I wanted to make sure they received the proper tributes.

“If they’re running to meet up with the Komizar, he’ll make them fight,” Kaden said. “No one riding with him gets a pass.”

“The Watch Captain hasn’t lifted a weapon in years,” I said. “But the Viceregent and Chancellor…” A sigh hissed through my teeth. Sword practice was a daily part of their routines. They claimed it was only a simple way to remain fit. They were both skilled. But what were two more soldiers among thousands?

Pauline’s lip lifted in disgust. “I’m betting the cowards will crawl into a hole and wait for the danger of battle to pass.”

I rubbed my temple. My head ached. The blood, the bodies, Rafe’s face; it all replayed through my mind over and over again. The broken catch in Rafe’s throat as he worked to save Sven. Come on, you old curd!

The door to Sven’s chamber opened, and Tavish stepped out.

We all looked at him anxiously. “How is he?” I asked.

Tavish shrugged, his face drawn and weary. “Hanging on.”

“And Rafe?”

“Hanging on too. You can go in.”

* * *

Rafe sat in a chair near Sven’s bed, staring at him, his empty gaze tearing at my heart. I knew their last conversation together had been contentious, with Sven storming out of the room. What if that was how it ended? What if, after all they had shared, that was their final moment together? I stared at Rafe, a shell of who he had been only hours earlier. He had already lost both of his parents in just a few short months. How much could one person lose?

I wanted him to weep, or be angry, or react in some way. He barely shook his head when I asked if I could get him something.

Gwyneth and Berdi joined us later. In those tired moments, I thought I could love neither one more. Gwyneth poured water, shoving it into Rafe’s hand, and she joked with Sven, talking to him as if he was listening. Maybe he was. Jeb and Orrin trudged in later, their lids heavy with exhaustion, but none of us wanted to be in our own rooms tonight. It was a vigil, as if all of our heavy hearts were anchors that could pin Sven to this room. Kaden sat in the corner, silent, carrying guilt he didn’t deserve. Gwyneth and Berdi brought in food, fluffed pillows, wiped Sven’s brow. Gwyneth chided Sven, telling him he’d better perk up soon, because she couldn’t take much more of these stony faces, then eyed all of us, trying to prod us out of our gloom. She kissed his cheek. “That one’s on the house,” she said. “The next one will cost you.”

When I encouraged Rafe to eat something, he nodded, but still ate nothing. Please, I prayed to the gods, please, let them have a few last words. Don’t leave Rafe with only this.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
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