The Kiss of Deception (The Remnant Chronicles 1) - Page 28

“So you approve of what I did?” I asked hesitantly.

“Let’s just say I wasn’t overly surprised.”

“And Bryn and Regan?”

He sat beside me and looped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. “My dear sweet sister, your brothers all love you as much as we ever did, and none of us blame you for wanting more from a marriage, though we’ve all been worried for your well-being. It’s only a matter of time before someone discovers you.”

I jumped up, shed my cloak, and spun for him. “Really? Look at me. If you didn’t already know who I was, would you have guessed I was Princess Arabella, First Daughter of Morrighan?”

He frowned. “Ragged clothes?” He grabbed my hand and examined it. “Chipped nails? Those aren’t enough to disguise what’s inside. You’ll always be you, Lia. You can’t run from that.”

I pulled my hand away. “Then you don’t approve.”

“I only worry. Back in Civica, you’ve enraged powerful people.”

“Mother and Father?”

He shrugged. “Mother won’t speak of it, and Father dutifully had a bounty posted for your arrest and return.”

“Only dutifully?”

“Don’t get me wrong. He’s humiliated and furious, and that’s only half of it. It’s been almost a month, and he’s still blustering around, but it’s still only a single small notice in the village square, and to my knowledge, no other bills have been sent out. Maybe that was as far as his cabinet could push him. Of course, they’ve had other pressing matters to deal with.”

“Other trouble besides me?”

He nodded. “Marauders have been creating all manner of bedlam. We think it’s only one or two small bands, but they disappear into the night like spirit wolves. They’ve destroyed key bridges in the north where most of our troops are positioned and created some panic in the outer hamlets.”

“Do you think it’s Dalbreck? Has a broken alliance created that much animosity?”

“No one knows for sure. Relations with Dalbreck have certainly eroded since you left, but I suspect this is the handiwork of Vendans taking advantage of our current situation. They’re trying to diminish our ability to mobilize the Guard, which may mean they’re planning a larger advancement of some kind.”

“Into Morrighan?” I couldn’t hide my shock. Any skirmishes with Venda had always taken place in the Cam Lanteux when they tried to establish outposts, never on our own soil.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll keep them out. We always do.”

“Even though they multiply like rabbits?”

He smiled. “Rabbits make good eating, you know?”

He stood and took a few steps, then turned to face me again, brushing back his unruly hair with his fingers. “But the worries and rage of Father are nothing compared with those of the Scholar.” He shook his head and grinned. “Oh, my little sister. What have you done?”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“It seems that something of great value to the Scholar has disappeared. At exactly the same time you did. He and the Chancellor have turned the citadelle upside down looking for it. All surreptitiously of course, because whatever was taken apparently isn’t a catalogued piece of the royal collection. At least that’s the rumor among the servants.”

I pressed my hands together and grinned. I couldn’t hide my glee. Oh, how I wish I had seen the Scholar’s face when he opened what he thought was his secret drawer and found it empty. Almost empty, that is. I’d left a little something for him.

“So you delight in your thievery?”

“Oh, very much so, dear brother.”

He laughed. “Then so do I. Come tell me about it. I’ve brought some of your favorites.” He led me to a corner where he had spread a blanket. From a basket he pulled a sealed cask of sparkling cherry muscat, the bubbly vintage of the Morrighan vineyards that I adored but was only allowed to drink on special occasions. He also unwrapped half a wheel of sweet fig cheese and the toasted sesame cracke

rs from the village baker. These were the tastes of home I hadn’t even realized I missed. We sat on the blanket, and I ate and drank and recounted the details of my theft.

It was the day before the wedding, and the Scholar was at the abbey officiating at the signing of the last documents. I still hadn’t made my final decision to flee, but as I sat in the darkness of my dressing chamber stewing, my well-honed animosity toward the Chancellor and Scholar reached its sharpest edge. They hadn’t even tried to hide their elation over my imminent departure when I went to the Chancellor’s offices earlier that morning to give my royal artifacts back to the collection. My crown, my rings, my seal—even my smallest jeweled hair baubles—the Chancellor made it clear that none of it could leave with me when I went to Dalbreck. He said my purpose wasn’t to enlarge the treasury of another kingdom.

The Scholar was there acting as witness and recorder. I had noticed he seemed especially eager for me to be on my way, rushing through his ledger, nervously shifting from one foot to another. I found it curious, since the Scholar was usually rigid and assertive in all his dealings with me. Just before I walked out the door, I was slammed with a thought—you have secrets—and I spun around. I saw the surprise on both their faces.

Tags: Mary E. Pearson The Remnant Chronicles Fantasy
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