The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles Series #3)

The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles Series #3)

by Mary E. Pearson


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The third and final book in the New York Times-bestselling Remnant Chronicles.

Lia has survived Venda—but so has a great evil bent on the destruction of Morrighan. And only Lia can stop it.

With war on the horizon, Lia has no choice but to assume her role as First Daughter, as soldier—as leader. While she struggles to reach Morrighan and warn them, she finds herself at cross-purposes with Rafe and suspicious of Kaden, who has hunted her down.

In this heart-stopping conclusion to the Remnant Chronicles trilogy that started with The Kiss of Deception and The Heart of Betrayal, traitors must be rooted out, sacrifices must be made, and impossible odds must be overcome as the future of every kingdom hangs in the balance. New York Times-bestselling author Mary E. Pearson's combination of intrigue, suspense, romance, and action makes this a riveting YA page-turner for teens.

Read all of The Remnant Chronicles:
The Kiss of Deception
The Heart of Betrayal
The Beauty of Darkness

Praise for The Remnant Chronicles:

A New York Times Bestselling Series

Readers will be gripping pages from the nerve-wracking start through the heart-stopping ending. . . . Pearson's Remnant Chronicles is an epic YA series to get behind.” —Romantic Times on The Beauty of Darkness

Fantastical.” —USA Today for The Kiss of Deception

A sumptuous fantasy.” —Chicago Tribune for The Kiss of Deception

“In The Kiss of Deception, a new realm is masterfully created, featuring court intrigue, feuding nations, breathtaking landscapes, and the gift of sight. Fans of the Game of Thrones series will enjoy the magic and fantasy in this timeless dystopian world.” —VOYA for The Kiss of Deception

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781250115317
Publisher: Square Fish
Publication date: 08/01/2017
Series: Remnant Chronicles Series , #3
Edition description: Reprint
Pages: 688
Sales rank: 27,614
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.20(d)
Age Range: 14 - 17 Years

About the Author

Mary E. Pearson is the author of many novels for teens, including The Kiss of Deception and The Heart of Betrayal, the first two books in the Remnant Chronicles, and the acclaimed Jenna Fox Chronicles. She writes full-time from her home in Carlsbad, California.

Read an Excerpt

The Beauty of Darkness: Book Three

By Mary E. Pearson

Henry Holt and Company

Copyright © 2016 Mary E. Pearson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-62779-652-1


Darkness was a beautiful thing. The kiss of a shadow. A caress as soft as moonlight. It had always been my refuge, my place of escape, whether I was sneaking onto a rooftop lit only by the stars or down a midnight alley to be with my brothers. Darkness was my ally. It made me forget the world I was in and invited me to dream of another.

I sank deeper, searching for its comfort. Sweet murmurs stirred me. Only a sliver of golden moon shone in the liquid dark, floating, rocking, always moving, always out of my reach. Its shifting light illuminated a meadow. My spirits lifted. I saw Walther dancing with Greta. Just beyond them, Aster twirled to music I couldn't quite hear, and her long hair flowed past her shoulders. Was it the Festival of Deliverance already? Aster called out to me, Don't tarry now, Miz. Deep colors swirled; a sprinkling of stars turned purple; the edges of the moon dissolved like wet sugar into black sky; the darkness deepened. Warm. Welcoming. Soft.

Except for the jostle.

The rhythmic shake came again and again. Demanding.


The voice that wouldn't let go. Cold and bright and sharp.

Hold on.

A broad hard chest, frosty breaths when my eyes rolled open, a voice that kept pulling the blanket away, pain bearing down, so numbing I couldn't breathe. The terrible brightness flashing, stabbing, and finally ebbing when I could take no more.

Darkness again. Inviting me to stay. No breaths. No anything.

When I was halfway between one world and another, a moment of clarity broke through.

This is what it was to die.

* * *


The comfort of darkness was stripped away again. The gentle warmth turned unbearably hot. More voices came. Harsh. Shouts. Deep. Too many voices.

The Sanctum. I was back in the Sanctum. Soldiers, governors ... the Komizar.

My skin was on fire, burning, stinging, wet with heat.

Lia, open your eyes. Now.


They had found me.


My eyes flew open. The room spun with fire and shadows, flesh and faces. Surrounded. I tried to pull back, but searing pain wrenched my breath away. My vision fluttered.

"Lia, don't move."

And then a flurry of voices. She's come to. Hold her down. Don't let her get up.

I forced a shallow breath into my lungs, and my eyes focused. I surveyed the faces staring down at me. Governor Obraun and his guard. It wasn't a dream. They had captured me. And then a hand gently turned my head.


He knelt by my side.

I looked back at the others, remembering. Governor Obraun and his guard had fought on our side. They helped us escape. Why? Beside them were Jeb and Tavish.

"Governor," I whispered, too weak to say more.

"Sven, Your Highness," he said, dropping to one knee. "Please call me Sven."

The name was familiar. I'd heard it in frantic blurred moments. Rafe had called him Sven. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I lay on the ground on a bedroll. Piles of heavy blankets that smelled of horses were on top of me. Saddle blankets.

I tried to rise up on one arm, and pain tore through me again. I fell back, the room spinning.

We have to get the barbs out.

She's too weak.

She's burning with fever. She's only going to get weaker.

The wounds have to be cleaned and stitched.

I've never stitched a girl before.

Flesh is flesh.

I listened to them argue, and then I remembered. Malich had shot me. An arrow in my thigh, and one in my back. The last I remembered I was on a riverbank and Rafe was scooping me into his arms, his lips cool against mine. How long ago was that? Where were we now?

She's strong enough. Do it, Tavish.

Rafe cupped my face and leaned close. "Lia, the barbs are deep. We'll have to cut the wounds to get them out."

I nodded.

His eyes glistened. "You can't move. I'll have to hold you down."

"It's all right," I whispered. "I'm strong. Like you said." I heard the weakness of my voice contradicting my words.

Sven winced. "I wish I had some red-eye for you, girl." He handed Rafe something. "Put this in her mouth to bite down on." I knew what it was for — so I wouldn't scream. Was the enemy near?

Rafe put a leather sheath in my mouth. Cool air streamed onto my bare leg as Tavish folded back the blanket to expose my thigh, and I realized that I had little on beneath the blankets. A chemise, if that. They must have removed my sodden dress.

Tavish mumbled an apology to me but wasted no time. Rafe pinned down my arms, and someone else pressed down on my legs. The knife cut into my thigh. My chest shuddered. Moans escaped through my clenched teeth. My body recoiled against my will, and Rafe pressed harder. "Look at me, Lia. Keep your eyes on me. It'll be over soon."

I locked onto his eyes, the blue blazing. His gaze held me like fire. Sweat dripped down his brow. The knife probed, and I lost focus. Gurgled noises jumped from my throat.

Look at me, Lia.

Digging. Cutting.

"Got it!" Tavish finally shouted.

My breath came in gulps. Jeb wiped my face with a cool cloth.

Good job, Princess, from whom I didn't know.

The stitching was easy compared to the cutting and probing. I counted each time the needle went in. Fourteen times.

"Now for the back," Tavish said. "That one will be a little harder."

* * *

I woke to Rafe sleeping beside me. His arm rested heavily across my stomach. I couldn't remember much about Tavish working on my back except him telling me the arrow was embedded in my rib and that probably saved my life. I had felt the cut, the probe, and then pain so bright I couldn't see anymore. Finally, as if from a hundred miles away, Rafe had whispered in my ear, It's out.

A small fire burned in a ring of rocks not far from me. It illuminated one nearby wall, but the rest of our shelter remained in shadows. It was a large cave of some sort. I heard the whicker of horses. They were in here with us. On the other side of the fire ring I saw Jeb, Tavish, and Orrin asleep on their bedrolls, and just to my left, sitting back against the cave wall, Governor Obraun — Sven.

It hit me fully for the first time. These were Rafe's four men, the four I'd had no confidence in — governor, guard, patty clapper, and raft builder. I didn't know where we were, but against all odds they had somehow gotten us across the river. All of us alive. Except for — My head ached, trying to sort it all out. Our freedom came at a high cost to others. Who had died and who had survived the bloodbath?

I tried to ease Rafe's arm from my stomach so I could sit up, but even that small movement sent blinding jolts through my back. Sven sat upright, alerted by my movement and whispered, "Don't try to get up, Your Highness. It's too soon."

I nodded, measuring my breaths until the pain receded.

"Your rib is most likely cracked by the impact of the arrow. You may have cracked more bones in the river. Rest."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"A little hideaway I tucked into many years ago. I was thankful I could still find it."

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days. It's a miracle you're alive."

I remembered sinking in the river. Thrashing, then being spit up, a quick gust of air filling my lungs and then being pulled under again. And again. My hands clutched at boulders, logs, everything slipping from my grasp, and then there was the fuzzy recollection of Rafe leaning over me. I turned my head toward Sven. "Rafe found me on the bank."

"He carried you for twelve miles before we found him. This is the first sleep he's had."

I looked at Rafe, his face gaunt and bruised. He had a gash over his left brow. The river had taken its toll on him too. Sven explained how he, Jeb, Orrin, and Tavish had maneuvered the raft to the planned destination. They'd left their own horses and a half dozen Vendan ones they had taken in battle in a makeshift paddock, but many had escaped. They rounded up what they could, gathered the supplies and saddles they had stashed in nearby ruins, and began backtracking, searching the banks and forest for us. They finally spotted some tracks and followed them. Once they found us, they rode through the night to this shelter.

"If you were able to find our tracks, then —"

"Not to worry, Your Highness. Listen." He cocked his head to the side.

A heavy whine vibrated through the cavern.

"A blizzard," he said. "There will be no tracks to follow."

Whether the storm was a blessing or hindrance, I wasn't sure — it would prevent us from traveling too. I remembered my aunt Bernette telling me and my brothers about the great white storms of her homeland that blocked out sky and earth and left snow piled so high that she and her sisters could venture outside only from the second floor of their fortress. Dogs with webbed feet had pulled their sleds across the snow.

"But they will try to follow," I said. "Eventually."

He nodded.

I had killed the Komizar. Griz had lifted my hand to the clans who were the backbone of Venda. He had declared me queen and Komizar in a single breath. The clans had cheered. Only producing my dead body would prove a successor's claim to rule. I imagined that successor to be Malich. I tried not to think about what had happened to Kaden. I couldn't allow my mind to drift there, but still, his face loomed before me, and his last expression of hurt and betrayal. Had Malich struck him down? Or one of his other countrymen? He had fought against them for me. Ultimately, he chose me over the Komizar. Was it the sight of a child's body in the snow that had finally pushed him over the edge? It was what had pushed me.

I had killed the Komizar. It had been easy. I'd had no hesitation, no remorse. Would my mother think of me as little more than an animal? I'd felt nothing as I plunged the knife into him. Nothing when I plunged it in again, except for the slight tug of flesh and gut. Nothing when I killed three more Vendans after that. Or was it five? Their shocked faces blended together in a distant rush.

But none of it had come soon enough to save Aster.

Now it was her face that loomed, an image I couldn't bear.

Sven held a cup of broth to my lips, claiming I needed nutrition, but I already felt darkness closing in again, and I gratefully let it overtake me.


I woke to the sound of silence. The howl of the storm was gone.

My brow was sticky, and strands of hair were plastered across my forehead. I hoped dampness was a sign the fever was breaking. And then I heard strained whispers. I carefully slivered my eyes open, peering from beneath my lashes. There was soft light filtering through the cave, and I saw them huddled close together. What secrets were they keeping now?

Tavish was shaking his head. "The storm's over, and they'll be on the move. We need to go."

"She's too weak to ride," Rafe said in a low voice. "Besides, the bridge is damaged. They can't get across. We have time."

"True," Sven said, "but there's the lower river. They'll cross there."

"That was a good week's ride for us from the Sanctum," Jeb countered.

Rafe took a sip from a steaming mug. "And now with the snow, it will be twice that."

"Which will also slow us down," Tavish reminded him.

Orrin rocked on his heels. "Hang me, they probably think we're all dead. I would. No one could ever make it across that demon river."

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, then shook his head. "Except that we did. And if they don't find a single body floating anywhere downriver, they'll know."

"But even once they cross, they'll have no idea where we are," Jeb said. "We could have exited anywhere. That's hundreds of miles to search with no tracks to follow."

"No tracks yet," Tavish warned.

Sven turned and walked over to the fire. I closed my eyes and heard him pouring something from the kettle into his tin cup, then sensed him standing over me. Did he know I was awake? I kept my eyes closed until I heard him walk back to the others.

Their discussions continued as they weighed their options, Rafe arguing in favor of waiting until I was stronger. Was he risking himself and the others because of me?

I mumbled as if I was just waking "Good morning. Rafe, can you help me up?" They all turned and watched me expectantly.

Rafe came over and knelt by my side. He pressed his hand to my forehead. "You're still hot. It's too soon —"

"I'm feeling better. I just —" He continued to resist, holding my shoulders down.

"I have to pee, Rafe," I said firmly. That stopped him. He looked sheepishly over his shoulder at the others. Sven shrugged as if he didn't know how to advise him.

"I'm afraid to even think of the indignities I may have suffered these past days," I said. "But I'm awake now, and I will relieve myself in private."

Rafe nodded and carefully helped me up. I did my best not to grimace. It was a long, awkward, painful process to get to my feet, and putting the slightest amount of weight on my now-stitched thigh sent fiery shocks through my leg and up my groin. I leaned heavily on Rafe for support. My head spun with dizziness, and I felt beads of moisture spring to my upper lip, but I knew they were all watching, gauging my strength. I forced a smile. "There now, that's better." I clutched the blanket around me for modesty's sake, because all I had on were my underclothes.

"Your dress is dry now," Rafe said. "I can help you put it back on."

I stared at the wedding dress spread out on a rock, the crimson dyes of many fabrics bleeding into the others. Its weight had pulled me under in the river and nearly killed me. All I could see when I looked at it was the Komizar. I felt his hands running down my arms, once again claiming me as his own.

I knew they sensed my reluctance to put it back on, but there was nothing else to wear. We had all narrowly escaped with just the clothes on our backs.

"I have an extra pair of trousers in my saddlebag," Jeb said.

Orrin gawked at him in disbelief. "Extra trousers?"

Sven rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

"We can cut away the bottom of the dress so the rest can serve as a shirt," Tavish said.

They seemed eager to busy themselves with something that would distract them from my more personal task at hand, and began to move away.

"Wait," I said, and they paused mid-stride. "Thank you. Rafe told me you were the best of Dalbreck's soldiers. Now I know that he didn't overestimate your abilities." I turned to Sven. "And I'm sorry I threatened to feed your face to the hogs."

Sven smiled. "All in a day's work, Your Highness," he said, and then he bowed.

* * *

I sat between Rafe's legs and leaned back against his chest. His arms circled around me, and a blanket covered us both. We huddled near the mouth of the cave looking out at a mountain range, watching the sun dip between its peaks. It wasn't a beautiful sunset. The sky was hazy and gray, and a dismal shroud of clouds hung over the mountains, but it was the direction of home.

I was weaker than I thought, and my few solitary steps down another arm of the cave to my requested private moment had me collapsing against a wall for support. I took care of my business, but then had to call Rafe to help me walk back. He had scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing and carried me here when I asked to see where we were. All I saw for miles was a white canvas, a landscape transformed by a single night of snow.

My throat swelled when the last glimpse of sun disappeared. Now I had nothing else to focus on, and other images crept in behind my eyes. I saw my own face. How could I possibly see my own terrified expression? But I did, as though I watched from some high vantage point, maybe from the vantage point of a god who could have intervened. Every footstep replayed in my head, trying to see what I could have done — or should have done differently.

"It's not your fault, Lia," Rafe said, as if he were able to see Aster's image in my thoughts. "Sven was standing on an upper walk and saw what happened. There's nothing you could have done."

My chest jumped, and I stifled a sob in my throat. I hadn't had a chance to mourn her death. There'd been only a few cries of disbelief before I had stabbed the Komizar and everything tumbled out of control.

Rafe's hand laced with mine beneath the blanket. "Do you want to talk about it?" he whispered against my cheek.


Excerpted from The Beauty of Darkness: Book Three by Mary E. Pearson. Copyright © 2016 Mary E. Pearson. Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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