The Beauty of Darkness by Mary E. Pearson Page A

“We take the six first, then Jeb and Tavish double back with me. Only when I give the word. Griz, cut Kaden loose on my signal.”
    â€œOrrin—right,” Tavish said. “Jeb—left.”
    The horses stamped, sensing the danger.
    â€œHold steady,” Sven whispered.
    They worked together like a smooth machine, exchanging a few more words, their chiseled focus remaining on the Rahtan as they spoke.
    Rafe finally turned to me, his weariness vanished, his eyes fierce with battle. “Lia, make a show of putting your sword away. You’re going to move forward as if we’re giving you up.” He turned to look at the riders behind us, then back to me. “Slowly. Ahead five lengths. No more. Then stop. Ready?” His eyes cut into me, a beat longer than we had time for. Trust me. It will be all right. I love you. A hundred things shining in his gaze that he didn’t have time to say.
    I nodded and moved forward. Time turned to syrup, every hoof fall amplified, one length becoming a mile. I steeled my eyes on the Rahtan ahead, as if that would keep them in place. They didn’t move, waiting for me to come all the way to them. Yes, Trahern and Iver, but now I could also recognized Baruch, Ferris, and Ghier, only cruel guards before, now elevated to ride with the Rahtan. The sixth one I didn’t know. But Malich wasn’t among them. If he wasn’t here, maybe he was the one ruling Venda now. I had sheathed my sword as Rafe had ordered, but the knife was still in my hand, hidden behind the pommel of the saddle. Two lengths. Their horses pranced, impatient. Three lengths. They looked between one another, victorious. Four lengths. I was close enough to see their faces. Each gleamed with satisfaction. Trahern moved forward to meet me. Another step. Five lengths. I stopped my horse.
    â€œKeep coming, girl,” he called.
    I didn’t move.
    A question crossed his face only briefly before the battle cry of a warrior prince rent the air. The ground shook with the rumble of hooves. Flesh and shadows flew past me.
    The Rahtan raced forward to meet them, Trahern leading the pack. Rafe maneuvered in front of me to block him. Swords flashed and axes swung. My horse whirled in the confusion, rearing back. I worked to regain control. Arrows flew, their smooth hiss singing past my ears. The Rahtan who had been behind now raced toward us too, but then Rafe and Tavish doubled back, arrows flying in the other direction, a circle of battle with me at the center. Dust rose in clouds, and the death ring of swords clanged against the air. Griz swung mightily, even with his weak side, bringing down Iver. Kaden fought beside him, his hands free for the first time in days. Blood spattered them both, but I wasn’t sure whose blood it was.
    Kaden whirled on his horse, killing Baruch with a vicious stab to his throat, pulling the sword free and, in the same motion, blocking an attack from Ferris. Ghier advanced on Sven from behind, and I threw my knife, hitting him dead center in the back of his neck. I circled, the melee coming from all sides and swung my sword into another Rahtan as he attacked Orrin. The blade glanced off his leather armor, but it was enough of a distraction that Orrin was able to knock him from his horse. I drew a second knife from my belt, but then, hidden in the ruins, a flash. Color. Something else turning my eye. Movement. Charging.
    A horse raced forward—with Ulrix guiding it toward me.
    I raised my sword, but he was already upon me, his horse’s side ramming my horse, the impact sending my animal stumbling and the sword flying. His horse was still butting mine, not giving me time to reposition or gain control, every part of us, saddle and stirrup, seeming tangled. I still had the knife tight in my grip, and I slashed out at his arm, meeting only with a leather wrist cuff. I slashed out again for something more vital, but he blocked me with his sword and yanked me