13. Harrick
THIRTEEN
HARRICK
I don’t know what I’m doing. After the horrific day I’ve had, Rune Ealde should be the furthest thing from my mind. Training an indentured servant shouldn’t be anywhere on my list of priorities. They’d try me for treason if they caught me, especially after the Architect’s announcement today.
Yet here I am. Leaned against the wall by 51 CC, waiting for two a.m. to strike, for Rune Ealde to sneak down to meet me. Thoughts of this, of meeting her here, have been my only sense of sanity. Despite the mess of my life, I still get to steal a moment with Rune tonight. I get to show her how to hold a weapon, how to cling to even the smallest drop of power.
The overhead clock buzzes with two low strikes. I’ve got my head leaned against Rune’s wall, but her room is silent. It isn’t until her door opens that I’m sure she’s in there at all.
She sucks in a sharp but quiet gasp when she sees me standing here. Her hair is damp, making it look darker than normal. She must have showered. She smells like cheap soap and something else, something I can’t quite place. Whatever it is, I like it.
She fidgets, her pale eyes hidden behind her yellow veil. I can see them still, the way they dart around my face. The way they don’t seem to fear me quite as much as they did the first time. Maybe that’s yet another lie I tell myself.
“Prince Harrick,” she says, dipping her chin. Her voice is raspy, and I wonder how often she talks when she’s not with me.
“Just Harrick,” I correct. A soft blush colors her cheeks, and she glances to both ends of the hallway.
“I wasn’t sure we were still meeting,” she says, the blush deepening.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s referencing the gathering. She’s heard, then, that my crown is threatened. That by the end of the Flood Season, I may not be the heir. I may not even be alive. An uncomfortable pinch slices through my stomach, wondering what she thinks of that.
“Let’s go,” I say. I push away from the wall and start for the stairs. Rune follows, but I find myself checking every few seconds. Her bare feet are silent on the marble floor. She could very well be the shadow she pretends to be.
By the time we reach the training arena, my nerves are electric, spasming against each other. If we get caught, if we get caught, if we get caught…
I enter my code to the arena, slipping inside and sealing the door as soon as Rune is safely in the waiting room with me. She keeps a careful distance between us, hands folded behind her back, face impossible to read.
“Okay,” I say after a long moment. “Okay, I think we’re good.”
“Are you all right?” she asks. Her voice trembles, and she bites her lip, like she wishes she could take the question back.
I don’t want to answer the question. I watch her mouth for another moment, wondering what she’d do if it was me biting those lips instead of her. Rather than doing that— or answering the question—I scan her face for cuts and bruises.I’d been worried Viana might take yesterday’s news out on Rune, but it doesn’t look like she has—at least from where I can see.
“I think we’ll try a dagger tonight,” I say finally.
She follows me silently into the padded arena. I’m wearing the red suit from the gathering, and I’m going to pass out from heat exhaustion if I train with it. I slip out of my laced shoes and lose the heavy jacket. It’s covered in red-tinted stones and weighs at least twenty pounds.
Rune watches as I do. Her hands are in tight fists, body tensed and ready to run. I’m overly aware of her movements. The way her lips twitch, like she’s keeping herself from asking anything more. The way she rocks from heel to toe, eyes continuously flitting to the arena entrance.
“No one is going to come in,” I tell her as I undo the top two buttons of my dress shirt. Her eyes track my movements, and her cheeks again turn red.
All at once, I realize how this must seem. Me forcing us to be alone together. Taking off clothes. Telling her no one is going to interrupt me.
“Fuck,” I say quickly, finally registering how terrified she looks. Now I’m certain I’m the one blushing. “I’m not going to touch you. I would never…”
I trail off, watching her skin flush again.
“Yes, my prince,” she says, tipping her chin.
She sounds almost rejected, and I’m tempted to clarify I’d touch her if she wanted me to. That, if she asked, I’d make her feel better than any man before me. But if I’m wrong, then we’re back to square one and…
Wyhel.
I finish adjusting my clothes and snatch a dagger from the wall. I rotate it, double-checking it’s not laced with magic, and hold it handle-first to Rune. Her fingers tremble as she takes it. She doesn’t trust me—not even close—but she’s here.
“What do I do with it?” she asks, turning it over in her hand. Her gaze flickers from the dagger to me. “It’s short .”
“Yes,” I say, unable to keep a smile from my face. “Like you.”
Her mouth twists into a scowl, creasing the space between her eyebrows. I think I’ve offended her but I’m not sure.
“Do I throw it?” she asks.
“Not if you can help it,” I say, still smiling. “If you miss your target, they’re unharmed and you’re without a weapon.”
“But if I don’t?” she asks. When I only raise my eyebrows, her mouth puckers slightly. “If I don’t miss?”
“Who exactly is your target, Rune?” I ask. I don’t mean to—it’s the type of question that will scare her away. If she’s afraid I’m going to throw her in a prison cell once I figure out her scheme, she’s going to stop coming here. She’s going to stop talking to me.
For whatever reason, I want her to stay.
“Don’t answer that,” I say as soon as she opens her mouth. “Tell me something instead.”
I step toward her, and she tenses. I hold my hands in surrender and wait for her to relax before stepping forward again. This time, she remains still. I adjust the dagger in her palm, moving her thumb up and to the left.
“Like this,” I say. Her hand is so small and pale, easily engulfed by mine. “Feel the control that way?”
She nods, face tensed in concentration. I lift her arm then, slowly moving it through a basic defensive block.
“If someone lunged for you, you would do that sideways thrust. Okay? Keep your forearm up by your face.” I gently guide her through the motion. “And this, if you were to stab someone, you’d do it like this.”
I’m out of my mind, so far gone there’s no coming back. I can’t explain what I’m doing or why, but I move her hand in a sharper motion, angling the blade toward my throat. Her cheeks flush, eyes on the dagger instead of me. I show her twice more, relishing the feel of her skin against mine.
When I finally let go and take a step backward, she practices the motion. She’s the picture of intense focus, but her pace is slow and inefficient. Every time she pretends to strike her opponent, she loosens her grip. She doesn’t have good technique, or even good instincts. With or without magic, it’d be easy to disarm her. It’s a thought I should find comforting, but don’t.
“Tell me something,” I remind her.
“Like what?” she asks. She’s still doing the arm movement, but I’ve distracted her. She’s getting sloppier with each attempt, so I should shut up and let her concentrate.
I don’t. I’m selfish and the gathering was horrible and I’m hungry for distraction myself.
“Anything,” I say. Then, “Something about you.”
My desperation is loud. If she notices, she doesn’t show it. She switches the dagger to her opposite hand and practices the same movement. Her left hand is even worse than her right.
“I used to be a kitchen wench,” she says. Her veiled eyes move to my face for the first time since we’ve started. Vibrant blue studies me. “I was promoted to Saskia’s handmaiden. Then Viana’s.”
“Something new. I already know that,” I say.
I might imagine it, but I swear something lights in her expression.
“I wasn’t sure you remembered,” she says. She trades the dagger back to her right hand, fumbling for a moment to find the grip I showed her. She watches the reflective blade instead of me. “I’m not a criminal. I mean, not really. My father was the one who broke the law. I know our family’s crimes are our own, but I never committed a crime.”
“Aside from this?” I ask with a smirk. She looks up at me, face paling, and I realize it’s too soon to tease her. “I’m committing a worse crime than you right now, Rune. You don’t have to worry about me turning you in. All right? You can trust me.”
She doesn’t respond. She lowers her gaze to the dagger, fingers tightening on the handle. After a long pause, she practices the defensive move again and again. I watch her, inexplicably mesmerized at her clumsy movements. Finally, she holds the dagger back to me.
“Handle first,” I tell her, gently rotating the dagger in her hand. “Unless you’re wanting to stab me.”
“No, my prince,” she says, sucking in a breath. “I was?—”
“Just Harrick,” I interrupt. “Tell me something about you . Not your father.”
I return the dagger to the wall and scan the weapons until I find a collection of darts. They’re meant to be filled with poison or magic, but for now, they’re empty canisters.
“I’ve never had a friend before,” she says, watching me carefully. Her eyes lower to the darts in my hand as she continues. “I’ve never had much of anything.”
Her words send a pang through my chest. It feels like I’ve lodged a poisonous dart right between my lungs. As miserable as I’ve felt under the Architect’s thumb, I’ve never felt alone. I’ve never wanted for anything. I’ve had comfort and luxury, and most importantly, I’ve always had Tora.
“I will be your friend,” I say. A warmth spreads beneath my ribs as the words leave my mouth. I’m in dangerous territory, and for the first time, I wonder if Rune is manipulating me. If she’s playing doe-eyed innocent to get my guard down. Still, I turn away from her, more worried about her seeing my vulnerability than attacking me.
I take the darts’ matching blowgun from the wall and roll the barrel between my fingers. When I look back to Rune, she’s watching me again, same stoic expression as before. She remains silent as I load two darts into the gun, but then shakes her head when I hold it out to her.
“I’ll show you how to use it,” I say, nodding.
At the same time, she says, “Why would you be my friend?”
I flinch, and it must show, because Rune’s expression softens.
“Why would you want to be my friend,” she says. She swallows, forcing her eyes up to mine. “Why are you nice to me at all, Harrick?”
There are a million ways I could respond. I could point out that, whether she believes it or not, I am a nice person. I could tell her that being friends is easy, that it doesn’t take any extra effort from me to be hers. Or I could be honest and tell her that she intrigues me, that she’s somehow braver than I’ve ever been. Without a stitch of magic, without a safety net to catch her, she’s stretched her neck as far as she can. And I’m desperate to be around her.
“I don’t know,” I say instead. I’m ready to leave it at that, but her expression closes at the lie. I’ve moved five steps back, and I suddenly feel like a coward. Even more so than usual.
I clear my throat, desperate to empty the weakness from my lungs. My mind is scrambled, and I’m trying to force a cohesive thought from it. I’m still gaping when I hear it.
The softest click.
Rune doesn’t react, but I’ve heard the sound often enough to recognize it. Someone is here, and whoever it is, they won’t react well to…whatever this is. Rune will end up dead and I’ll be in a cell for treason.
I lunge, grabbing Rune by her shoulders and rotating her back to the nearest wall. She lets out something between a gasp and shriek, but there’s no time to explain. The dart gun falls between us as I press my thigh between her legs. Even behind her mask, I can see her eyes, wide with horror.
“Please—”
I don’t let her finish. I crash my lips against hers, kissing her, even when I know she doesn’t understand. I hate myself for it. Hate that I don’t know how else to keep her safe, hate that Malek will hurt her if I give him the chance.
I make it loud and sloppy. It’s not how I would kiss her if this was real, if she was letting me. I’d make it good for her. I’d savor the taste of her until she was begging for more. Instead, I’m reckless, concerned only with how this looks.
Malek laughs, loud and stark, and gives an exaggerated, slow clap.
I pull back, feeling the crush of self-loathing as I do. I desperately want Rune to look at me, to understand I’m trying to save us. But her eyes are closed, tears dotting her eyelashes.
I’m trying to keep you safe.
I won’t let him hurt you.
Please, please don’t hate me for this.
“Look at this, high and mighty brother of mine,” says Malek. He laughs again. “Always judging my tendencies. Does your betrothed know you’re down here with a rat-whore?”
One last look at Rune before I turn, leaning cruelly against her. It’s the easiest way to keep her fully concealed.
“Leave, Malek,” I snarl. “I don’t interrupt your trysts.”
“Mine don’t typically occur in public,” he drawls. He lounges against the doorframe, mouth curved. His suit is disheveled, as if it’s spent the evening on that elite’s floor. His clawed crown rests lopsided on his head. “I have to say, I’m actually impressed. I figured you’d be writing love sonnets for Viana, not fucking a servant in the arena. I take it no elites will have you?”
I don’t respond. He’s baiting me, and I can’t give into temptation. I need him to get bored and leave—the faster the better. I shift in front of Rune as he attempts to look around me. His smile broadens as he realizes what I’m doing.
“Oh relax, Harri. I’m not interested in your whore.” He steps closer and I press harder into Rune. She trembles, her breath hot against my back. Malek tilts his head. “A suggestion, brother. Perhaps, rather than getting your dick wet by a foul creature, you should be training. You certainly need the practice.”
“Is that why you’re here? To practice?” I snap, unable to resist.
“I saw you were here,” he says with a lazy shrug. I shouldn’t be surprised he’s accessed my code. “I thought it best to investigate.”
I say nothing, and he waggles his brows at me. Once again, he cranes his neck to search for Rune, but I shift, allowing him nothing. Malek rolls his eyes.
“Fine. I will leave you to it,” he says. He smacks a hand against the doorframe and gives me a final, smug look. “Enjoy your rat pussy, but do some training once you’re done. First duel is in ten days!”
I grind my teeth together, forcing myself to be silent. Malek saunters from the viewing room and lets the main door clang behind him. I wait as long as I can, counting my strained breaths until I’m sure he won’t return.
Finally, I step away from Rune, slowly as if there’s any chance of not scaring her now. When I look at her, I’m surprised to find her eyes already on mine. Not just on me, but my eyes, staring at me with a blend of shock and confusion.
“Forgive me,” I say. The words sound funny, my breath choppy.
“Thank you,” she says, almost at the same time.
“Don’t thank me,” I say. I close my eyes, feeling self-hatred drip through my veins. “Gods, don’t thank me. I would never do that. To you, to anyone. I just…I didn’t?—”
“I understand,” she interrupts. She’s trembling, but I still at her words. “I didn’t realize he had come in. He would have…he would have?—”
“Forgive me, Rune,” I say again. Despite her gaze on me, it’s hard to look at her. I hate what I’ve just done, even if it felt like the best option. Not to mention she witnessed Malek’s mockery of me, of her . I feel small and pathetic, evil to my core.
“I understand,” she says again. She takes the smallest step toward me, repeating quietly, “I understand, Harrick.”
I suck in a breath. This is the first time she’s willingly come toward me.
Something squeezes in my chest, compressing until I feel nothing and everything at the same time. Rune doesn’t have a speck of power in her bones, and yet she’s affecting me in a way no one else has. Her expression is gentle and soft, filling me with the purest sensation of light.
Looking at her now, I wonder if there might be more than one type of magic.