The Heart of Betrayal

  Though my pulse raced, I didn’t break his gaze. I blinked slowly, as if I were bored. Yes, Komizar, I’ve already learned your tics.

  “Not to worry, my friends,” he said, waving his hand in the air and dismissing my silence. “There’s so much more to talk about. Like all of this!” His hand swept the room from one end to the other at the display of carts. He laughed like he was delighted with the haul. “What do we have?” He started at one end, going from cart to cart, digging through the plunder. I noticed that though the governors had searched it, nothing appeared to have been taken yet. Perhaps they knew to wait until the Komizar chose first. He lifted a hatchet, running a finger along the blade, nodding as if impressed, and then moved on to the next cart, drawing out a falchion and swinging it in front of him. Its sching cut through the air and drew approving comments. He smiled. “You did well, Chievdar.”

  Well? Massacring a whole company of young men?

  He tossed the curved blade back into the cart and moved on to the next one. “And what’s this?” He reached in and pulled out a long strap of leather. Walther’s baldrick.

  Not him. Anyone but him. I felt my knees weaken, and a small noise escaped my throat. He turned in my direction, holding it up. “The tooling is exceptional, don’t you think? Look at these vines.” He slowly slid the strap through his fingers. “And the leather, so buttery. Something fit for a crown prince, no?” He lifted it over his head and adjusted it across his chest as he walked back to me, stopping an arm’s length away. “What do you think, Princess?”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I, too, had foolishly played my hand. I was still too raw with Walther’s loss to think. I looked away, but he grabbed my jaw, his fingers gouging into my skin. He forced me to look back at him.

  “You see, Princess, this is my kingdom, not yours, and I have ways of making you speak that you cannot even begin to fathom. You will sing like a clipped canary if I command it.”

  “Komizar.” Kaden’s voice was low and earnest.

  He released me and smiled, gently caressing my cheek. “I think the princess is tired from her long journey. Ulrix, take the princess to the holding room so she can rest for a moment and Kaden and I can talk. We have a lot to discuss.” He glanced at Kaden, the first sign of anger flashing through his eyes.

  Kaden looked at me, hesitating, but there was nothing he could do. “Go,” he said. “It’ll be all right.”

  * * *

  Once we were out of Kaden’s sight, the guards all but dragged me down the hallway, their wrist cuffs stabbing into my arms. I still felt the pressure of the Komizar’s fingers against my face. My jaw throbbed where his fingers had dug in. In just a few brief minutes, he had perceived something I cared about deeply and used it to hurt me and, ultimately, weaken me. I had braced myself to be beaten or whipped, but not for that. The vision still burned my eyes, my brother’s baldrick proudly splayed across the enemy’s chest in the cruelest taunt, waiting for me to crumble. And I had.

  Round one to the Komizar. He had overtaken me, not with quick condemnation or brute force, but with stealth and careful observation. I would have to learn to do the same.

  My indignation mounted as the guards jostled me roughly through the dark hall, seeming to relish having a royal at their mercy. By the time they stopped at a door, my arms were numb under their grip. They unlocked it and threw me into a black room. I fell, the rough stone floor cutting into my knees. I stayed there, stunned and hunched on the ground, breathing in the musty, foul air. Only three thin shafts of light filtered through vents in the upper wall opposite me. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw a straw-filled mat, the stuffing spilling out onto the floor, a short milking stool, and a bucket. Their holding room had all the comforts of a barbaric cell. I squinted, trying to see more in the dim light, but then I heard a noise. A shuffle in the corner. I wasn’t alone.

  Someone or something else was in the room with me.

  Let the stories be heard,

  So all generations will know,

  The stars bow at the gods’ whisper,

  They fall at their bidding,

  And only the chosen Remnant,

  Found grace in their sight.

  —Morrighan Book of Holy Text, Vol. V

  CHAPTER THREE

  KADEN

  “So, you thought she’d be useful.”

  He knew the true reason. He knew I disdained the gift as much as he did, but his contempt for the gift sprang from lack of belief. I had more compelling reasons.

  We sat alone in his private meeting chamber. He leaned back in his chair, his tented hands tapping his lips. His black eyes rested on me like cool, polished onyx, betraying no emotion. They rarely did, but if not anger, I knew at least curiosity lurked behind them. I looked away, gazing instead at the lush fringed carpet beneath us. A new addition.

  “A goodwill gift from the Premier of Reux Lau,” he explained.

  “Goodwill? It looks expensive. Since when do the Reux Lau bring us gifts?” I asked.

  “You thought. Let’s get back to that. Is she that good in—”

  “No,” I said, standing up. I walked to the window. Wind hissed through the gaps. “It’s not like that.”

  He laughed. “Then tell me how it is.”

  I looked back at his table, overflowing with maps, charts, books, and notes. I was the one who had taught him how to read Morrighese, which most of these documents were. Tell me how it is. I wasn’t sure myself. I returned to my chair across from him and explained Lia’s effect on Vendans as hardened as Griz and Finch. “You know how the clans are, and there are plenty of hillfolk who still believe. You can’t walk through the jehendra without seeing a dozen stalls selling talismans. Every other servant here in the Sanctum wears one or another tucked beneath their shirt and probably half the soldiers too. If they think the Vendans have somehow been blessed with one of the gifts of old, one of royal blood even, you might—”

  He leaned forward, sweeping papers and maps to the floor with a broad angry stroke of his arm. “Do you take me for a fool? You betrayed an order because the backward few of Venda might take her to be a sign? Have you now appointed yourself Komizar to do what you think to be the wiser move?”

  “I just thought—” I closed my eyes briefly. I had already disobeyed his order, and now I was making excuses, just as the Morrighese did. “I hesitated when I went to kill her. I—”

  “She caught your fancy, just as I said.”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  He leaned back in his chair and shook his head, waving his hand as if it was of little matter. “So you succumbed to the charms of a woman. Better that than believing yourself to make better decisions in my stead.” He pushed his chair back and stood, walking over to a tall footed oil lamp in the corner of the room, jagged crystals rimming it like a crown. When he turned the wheel to increase the flame, splinters of light cut across his face. It was a gift from the Tomack quarterlord and didn’t fit the severity of the room. He tugged the short hair of his beard, lost in thought, and then his eyes rested on me once again. “No harm done bringing her here. She’s out of the hands of Morrighan and Dalbreck, which is all that matters. And yes, now that she’s here … I’ll decide the best way to use her. The governors’ hushed surprise at a royal in their midst wasn’t lost on me, nor the whispering of servants when she left.” A half smile played on his lips, and he rubbed at a smudge on the lantern with his sleeve. “Yes, she might prove useful,” he whispered, more to himself than to me, as if warming to the idea.

  He turned, remembering I was still in the room.

  “Enjoy your pet for now, but don’t get too attached. The brethren of the Sanctum aren’t like the hillfolk. We don’t settle into flabby domestic lives. Remember that. Our brotherhood and Venda always come first. It’s how we survive. Our countrymen are counting on us. We’re their hope.”

  “Of course,” I answered. And it was true. Without the Komizar, even without Malich, I’d be dead by now. But don’t get too a
ttached? It was too late for that.

  He returned to his desk, shuffling through papers, then stopped to look at a map and smiled. I knew the smile. He had many. When he had smiled at Lia, I’d feared the worst. The one on his face now was genuine, a satisfied smile, meant for no one to see.

  “Your plans are going well?”

  “Our plans,” he corrected me. “Better than I hoped. I have great things to show you, but it will have to wait. You made it back just in time before I ride out tomorrow. The governors of Balwood and Arleston didn’t show.”

  “Dead?”

  “Most likely for Balwood. Either the sickness of the north country finally got him or he lost his head to a young usurper too frightened to come to the Sanctum himself.”

  My guess was that Hedwin of Balwood had succumbed to a sword in the back. Just as he always boasted, he was too mean for the withering sickness of the north woods to overtake him.

  “And Arleston?”

  We both knew that Governor Tierny of the southernmost province was probably lying in a drunken stupor in some brothel on the road to the Sanctum and would stroll in with apologies featuring lame horses and bad weather. But his tithe of supplies to the city never wavered. The Komizar shrugged. “Hot-blooded young men can grow weary of well-oiled governors.”

  As the Komizar had eleven years ago. I looked at him, still every bit the young man who had slaughtered three governors right before he killed the previous Komizar of Venda. But he wasn’t so hot-blooded anymore. No, now his blood ran cool and steady.

  “It’s been a long time since there have been any challenges,” I mused.

  “No one wants a target on his back, but challenges always come, my brother, which is why we must never grow lazy.” He shoved the map aside. “Ride with me tomorrow. I could use some fresh company. We haven’t ridden together in too long.”

  I said nothing, but my expression must have revealed my reluctance.

  He shook his head, retracting his invitation. “Of course, you’ve just returned from a long journey, and besides that you’ve brought Venda a very interesting prize. You deserve a respite. Rest a few days and then I’ll have work for you.”

  I was thankful that he didn’t mention Lia as the reason. He was being more gracious than I deserved, but I took note of his emphasis on Venda, a deliberate reminder of where my loyalties belonged. I stood to leave. A draft ruffled the papers on his desk.

  “A storm brews,” I said.

  “The first of many,” he answered. “A new season comes.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I jumped to my feet and searched the shadows of the room, trying to see what made the noise.

  “Here.”

  I spun around.

  A thin shaft of light took new form as someone stepped forward into its soft beam.

  A dusky strand of hair. A cheekbone. His lips.

  I couldn’t move. I stared at him, all I had ever wanted and all I had ever run from locked in the same room with me.

  “Prince Rafferty,” I finally whispered. It was only a name, but its sound was hard, foreign, and distasteful in my mouth. Prince Jaxon Tyrus Rafferty.

  He shook his head. “Lia…”

  His voice shivered through my skin. Everything I had hung on to across thousands of miles shifted inside me. All the weeks. The days. Him. A farmer, now turned prince—and a very clever liar. I couldn’t quite grasp it all. My thoughts were water slipping through my fingers.

  He stepped forward, the beam of light shifting to his shoulders, but I had already seen his face, the guilt. “Lia, I know what you’re thinking.”

  “No, Prince Rafferty. You have no idea what I’m thinking. I’m not even sure what I’m thinking.” All I knew was that even now, as I shivered with doubt, my blood ran hot, spiking with every word and glance from him, the same feelings swirling in my belly as when we were in Terravin, as if nothing had changed. I wanted him desperately and completely.

  He stepped forward, and the space between us suddenly vanished, the heat of his chest meeting mine, his arms strong around me, his lips warm and soft, every bit as sweet as I remembered. I soaked him in, relieved, thankful—angry. A farmer’s lips, a prince’s lips—a stranger’s lips. The one true thing I thought I had was gone.

  I pressed closer to him, telling myself that a few lies compared to everything else didn’t matter. He had risked his life coming here for me. He was still at terrible risk. Neither of us might survive the night. But it was there, hard and ugly between us. He had lied. He had manipulated me. To what purpose? What game was he playing? Was he here for me or for Princess Arabella? I pushed away. Looked at him. Swung. The hard slap of my hand on his face rang through the room.

  He reached up, rubbing his cheek, turning his head to the side. “I have to admit, that wasn’t exactly the greeting I envisioned after all those miles of chasing you across the continent. Can we go back to the kissing part?”

  “You lied to me.”

  I saw his back stiffen, the posture, the prince, the person he really was. “I seem to recall it was a mutual endeavor.”

  “But you knew who I was all along.”

  “Lia—”

  “Rafe, this may not seem important to you, but it’s terribly important to me. I ran from Civica because for once in my life, I wanted to be loved for who I was—not what I was and not because a piece of paper commanded it. I could be dead by the end of the day, but with my last dying breath, I need to know. Who did you really come here for?”

  His bewildered expression turned to one of irritation. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “No!” I said. “If I had truly been a tavern maid, would you still have come? What was my true worth to you? Would you have given me a second glance if you hadn’t known I was Princess Arabella?”

  “Lia, that’s an impossible question. I only went to Terravin because—”

  “I was a political embarrassment? A challenge? A curiosity?”

  “Yes!” he snapped. “You were all those things! A challenge and an embarrassment! At first. But then—”

  “What if you hadn’t found Princess Arabella at all? What if you’d only found me, a tavern maid named Lia?”

  “Then I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be in Terravin kissing the most infuriating girl I ever laid my eyes on, and not even two kingdoms could tear me away.” He stepped closer and hesitantly cradled my face in his hands. “But the fact is, I came for you, Lia, no matter who or what you are, and I don’t care what mistakes I made or what mistakes you made. I’d make every single one again, if that was the only way to be with you.”

  His eyes sparked with frustration. “I want to explain everything. I want to spend a lifetime with you making up for the lies I told, but right now we don’t have time. They could be back for either of us any minute. We have to get our stories straight and make our plans.”

  A lifetime. My thoughts turned liquid, the warmth of the word lifetime flooding through me. The hopes and dreams that I had painfully pushed away surged once more. Of course, he was right. What was most important was to figure out what we were going to do. I couldn’t stand to watch him die too. The deaths of Walther and Greta and a whole company of men were already too much to bear.

  “I have help coming,” he said, already moving on. “We just have to hold out until they get here.” He was confident, sure of himself the way a prince might be. Or a well-trained soldier. How had I not seen this side of him before? His troops were coming.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Four.”

  I felt my hopes rise. “Four thousand?”

  His expression sobered. “No. Four.”

  “You mean four hundred?”

  He shook his head.

  “Four? Total?” I repeated.

  “Lia, I know how it sounds, but trust me, these four—they’re the best.”

  My hope fell as quickly as it had sprung. Four hundred soldiers couldn’t get us out of here, much less four. I wasn’t able to hide my skept
icism, and a weak laugh escaped my lips. I circled the small room, shaking my head. “We’re trapped here on this side of a raging river with thousands of people who hate us. What can four people do?”

  “Six,” he corrected. “With you and me, there are six.” His voice was plaintive, and when he stepped toward me, he winced, holding his ribs.

  “What happened?” I asked. “They’ve hurt you.”

  “Just a little gift from the guards. They’re not fond of Dalbreck swine. They made sure I understood that. Several times.” He held his side, taking a slow shallow breath. “They’re only bruises. I’m all right.”

  “No,” I said. “You’re obviously not.” I pushed away his hand and pulled up his shirt. Even in the dim light, I could see the purple bruises that covered his ribs. I recalculated the odds. Five against thousands. I dragged the stool over and made him sit, then ripped strips from my already shredded skirt. I carefully began wrapping his middle to stabilize his movement. I was reminded of the scars on Kaden’s back. These people were savages. “You shouldn’t have come, Rafe. This is my problem. I brought it on when I—”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Stop worrying. I’ve taken worse tumbles on my horse, and this is nothing compared to what you’ve been through.” He reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry, Lia. They told me about your brother.”

  The bitterness rolled up in my throat again. There were things I never thought would happen, much less have to witness. Watching my brother be slaughtered right before my eyes was the worst of them. I drew my hand away, wiping it on my tattered skirt. It felt wrong to have the warmth of Rafe’s hands on my fingertips when I spoke of Walther, who lay cold in the ground. “You mean they laughed about my brother. I listened to them on the road for five days, gloating over how easily they fell.”