15. Harrick
FIFTEEN
HARRICK
“This is foolish,” Mother says. She trails behind me as I storm the corridor, her heels clacking against the reflective tile. “At least wait until we speak with the Committee. You don’t have the Architect’s?—”
“Mother,” I say. It comes out loud and harsh, like a strained cord finally snapping. She’s barely left my side all night, one step behind, criticizing my every move. “I have already decided.”
I press my thumb against the lift’s access screen. A quiet swishing, like the sound of birds taking flight, fills the silence as the lift rises to meet us. We’re in the military sector, but now that I’ve assembled a last-minute security team, there’s nothing left to do except leave.
The lift door gasps open and I stride inside, disappointed but not surprised when Mother joins me. She’s still wearing her gown from last night’s battle, but her typically flawless appearance is ruined by the dark bags under her eyes and the fade of her once-bright lipstick.
After my humiliating loss against Malek, I’d barricaded myself in a room behind the arena. I’d sat with my throbbing hands in a bucket of ice, silently letting the healers treat me. I ignored anyone who knocked on the door and felt slighted when Malek didn’t bother to come taunt me. My loss was so pathetic I’m no longer worth tormenting.
Maybe that’s what spurred all of this into action.
I’ve spent my entire life trying to prove my worth as heir. I trained harder and longer than Malek. I took on more responsibilities. I did what Mother and the Committee and the Architect asked of me, and still, Malek was faster, stronger, better .
It struck me at some point in my self-pitying that at least if I lose my title, I can behave the way Malek always has. Not as a monster, but as a man with few worries. I’ve dedicated my time to training and preparing for kinghood—now that it’s slipping away, what’s the point? If I’m never going to be king, if all that work was for nothing, the least I deserve are those luxuries of wealth and power.
By the time Mother came around, I had the beginnings of a plan. I was taking a trip through the exterior sectors of Savoa: the Wilds, the City of Mirrors, the Pit, the Reaping Grounds…even the Deadlands, though only out of convenience.
“Harrick,” she says, pulling my focus back to the present. We’re almost to the entry level of the Tower, where my guards will be waiting with three carriages. They should have our bags packed, along with whatever Viana decided to bring. I don’t care if she’s packed half the Tower, so long as Rune is with her.
“My son,” she whispers. Her voice grows quiet, laced with urgency. “You cannot go. If you try, I will have to alert the Architect. You have too many responsibilities here. There’s too much?—”
“The Architect won’t care, Mother,” I say as the lift settles on the main floor. “He’ll only be angry that you’ve disturbed his sleep.”
The lift stops and I exit. This time, Mother doesn’t follow. There’s a chance she’s going straight to the Architect, but I doubt it. I think she knows as well as I do that I’ve been written off. Even if there are two more battles to come, he knows Malek will win.
After last night, everyone knows.
I slow my steps. The Tower’s entry level is one of the grandest floors in the entire building. It’s an exquisite maze of bright papered walls and multi-colored marble. Black and red, green and violet, even a few splashes of white and pale yellow. The Architect designed this level to be as confusing as it is luxurious, in hopes that visitors would believe the entire Tower to be this beautiful and impossible to navigate. I imagine anyone unfamiliar with the layout could spend days lost on this level alone.
I take my time walking the halls, pretending this is the last time I’ll ever have to see them. The garish violet and green wall coverings, the gnarled plants with vines curling around hanging portraits, the marble floors so polished I can see my own reflection. The decor becomes increasingly extravagant as I near the main entryway: rare gemstones in glass cases, masks worn by ancestral warriors, retired crowns of previous royalty.
Voices filter from the entryway, and I realize I’m among the last to arrive. Joran and Dae are discussing possible routes to take, and Viana occasionally interrupts them with questions about our vacation. When I enter the foyer, a pair of drenched servants give their updates to Dae.
Through the ajar doors behind them, the half-flooded courtyard is visible. Three carriages, pulled by magic, sit near the Tower’s entrance, and one appears to be packed full of luggage. Opposite the shivering servants and my guards, Viana stands beside two oversized bags. There’s a female servant near her, but it’s not Rune.
“My love!” she calls. She dances across the colorful marble, a grin splitting her mouth, and throws herself against my chest. I give her a halfhearted pat on the back, scanning the room behind her. Aside from the soaked servants, the female servant, and my guards, there isn’t anyone else here.
She isn’t here. And a pain in my gut tells me there’s a reason…one I won’t like.
“Ah, my prince,” Joran says. He crosses the room, pausing a respectable distance from me and Viana, who is still pressed against me, even though I dropped my arm a while ago.
“Give us a moment,” I say to Viana. She skips back to her baggage, keeping her eyes on me. If she’s upset about my humiliating defeat last night, she doesn’t show it. I wonder if she’s written it off as a fluke, if she thinks she’ll still be queen.
“We are almost ready to leave,” Joran says. He glances back at the two wet men. “The carriage is packed. They’re struggling to fit the last of Viana’s bags, but I told them to figure it out. Everything else is prepared. Safety procedures are in place and there are enough supplies to last us several days, on the off chance we are delayed.”
“Who’s coming?” I ask.
“Only a small team, my prince, as requested,” he says. “There will be yourself and Miss Viana, myself and Dae, two additional guards, Viana’s handmaiden and an additional servant to cater to your needs.”
My attention flickers to the woman near Viana. She’s no longer alone. There’s a young male servant, a cycle younger than me if I had to guess, now standing beside her. He wears the insignia of a crowned servant, but he’s unfamiliar. And, obviously, he is not Rune either.
Joran excuses himself, and I force myself to remain still. A panicked wrath pulses through my bones, pressing against my magic, growing stronger as Viana skips back to my side.
“Where are we going first, my love?” she asks, purring. She looks ready for a luxury event: glittering makeup on her cheeks, an elaborately twisted hairstyle, and a long green gown, accented with red jewelry. She’s wearing an overpowering perfume, sharp cinnamon, more acidic than alluring.
“Where is your handmaiden?” I ask. It comes out as a demand, and I have to clench my jaw to stop from continuing. Viana stares at me with wide eyes, her red-painted lips parting.
“There, my prince,” she says, tilting her chin toward the unfamiliar servant. In many ways, she resembles Rune. Her hair is light brown and she’s about the same height, but she’s heavier, healthier. Rounded cheeks, subtle curves, unblemished skin. She keeps her face tucked down, away from me, as if she’s been instructed to hide it.
“No, your usual handmaiden,” I say. I force a soft lilt to my voice, trying to sound coy. It’s blatantly false in my ear, as if the anger refuses to be stifled. Viana relaxes all the same.
“Oh, Rain isn’t feeling well,” she says. The lie rolls easily from her tongue, like she’s been practicing it. “When I saw it— her —this morning, I felt just horrible. I’m afraid she’s overworked, and I couldn’t bear to stress her with last-minute travel. I’ve decided to let her remain here, to work on our wedding arrangements instead.”
She’s beaming at me, once again waiting for my approval. I wish she was telling the truth, that she’s taken my warning, that she’s being sincere. After all, this is the first time she’s made the effort to call Rune a person and not an object.
“Nonsense,” I say. Even if I were naive enough to believe Rune is upstairs resting, I’m only going on this trip to indulge my obsession with her. There’s no point in going if she’s not. I force a smile. “I know you’ve grown accustomed to her service. I will send for her immediately.”
“Oh no, my husband?—”
“Joran!” I call, interrupting her. “Please send for Rune Ealde. Servant 247, room 51 CC. Lady Viana would prefer her company.”
“Yes, my prince,” he says. He nods to one of the newly-arrived guards, who takes off down the twist of hallways. Once he’s gone, I return my attention to Viana. Her cheeks are pale, eyes wide, and I know without question she’s done something terrible.
I step away from her, tightening my hands into fists. My fingers itch with magic, as if begging me to launch her across the room, to solve two problems at once. Instead, I move farther from her, crossing the foyer to join Dae, Joran, and the two servants.
“You are dismissed,” I tell the two young men, interrupting one of them. “Go find warm clothes.”
“They’re scheduled to—” starts Dae, but I wave him off.
“Go on,” I say to the men. They share a hesitant glance between themselves, as if questioning whether this is a trap. “You may rest until your next shift. If anyone questions you, ask for Princess Tora. She’ll take care of you.”
The men trade another glance before bowing their heads and thanking me. As they disappear from the room, I feel Joran and Dae’s skeptical gazes on me, but I don’t make eye contact. I don’t want to explain anything, and I hate that a simple show of kindness is so jarring. Not for the first time, I wonder if I am as horrible as Malek. Just because I don’t relish in the servants’ misery doesn’t mean I don’t contribute to it.
I leave Joran and Dae, returning to Viana and her remaining bags. She is still pale and unusually quiet, staring absently in the direction of the lift. My stomach tightens, wondering what she already knows. Is the guard going to announce Rune’s legs are broken? That she’s too injured to walk? Or, worse, will he say she’s gone missing? That her body was found in the service stairwell?
I’ll never forgive myself. I should have known. Should have sent for her last night, rather than leave her under Viana’s watch.
I work my jaw. The brunette servant still at her side glances at me nervously.
“Thank you for your services, but they will no longer be needed. You may return to your quarters,” I tell the woman. Her shoulders loosen, and for the first time, she lifts her head enough to look at me. Even with her mask, she stares at my nose instead of my eyes.
“Yes, my prince.” She dips her chin in acknowledgement before hurrying out of sight.
Viana doesn’t flinch, doesn’t seem to register my words at all. Her eyes remain in the direction of the lifts, and my anxiety spikes with each passing second. Finally, the guard returns, flanked by Rune. Her head is tucked almost to her chest, and her brown hair creates a curtain over her face. She’s walking though, without any perceptible limp.
Viana shifts beside me, breath unnaturally fast. I keep my eyes on Rune. She wears a smaller pair of coveralls that exposes just how skinny she is, and her mask is pale yellow. It’s tattered and the strap sags from overuse. Even from a distance, I know it’s not the one I gave her.
She arrives at Viana’s side, head down, body painfully stiff. She doesn’t look up, but I can still see why she has a new mask. A deep gash cuts up the side of her face, disappearing beneath the yellow veil. Dark purple bruising swells over her cheek and beneath her eye, and though it isn’t bleeding now, it certainly was when she got it.
My vision sparks with red, almost as if my magic is attempting to break free, any way it can. I tighten my hands again, but I feel like I’m losing control of them, as if they might punish Viana without my permission.
“Your face,” Viana gasps in false surprise. “My goodness, Rain. What have you done to yourself?”
“I fell,” she says. Her voice is low, cracked. “On the service stairwell. I fell after leaving your room last night.”
“That is terrible ,” Viana says. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You must be hurting. Perhaps you want to stay to heal?—”
“It’s time to leave,” I say, cutting her off. I signal to Joran across the room, and once he heads our way, I look down to Rune. “Please lead Lady Viana to our carriage. Joran will show you the way.”
Once Joran has joined them, I excuse myself to one of the nearby bathrooms. I empty the meager contents of my stomach, hands pressed against the tile wall. I shake, trying but failing to reclaim my senses. I’m aware of every speck of magic in my body, and it suddenly feels painful to keep it in . I send a wisp of it through my fingers, let the red spin through the room like a miniature tornado, breathing through the unexpected release of tension.
You knew , my head whispers, you knew what she was capable of .
Only once my vision clears and my hands steady do I push off the bathroom floor and return to the entryway of the Tower.
“Get in,” I say to Rune. She startles from beside the middle carriage, her blue eyes meeting mine through her mask. The gruesome wound on her face sickens me all over again, but I’ll take care of that soon enough.
“She may ride with the rest of the servants,” Dae says. Of course he’s here, always ready to poke holes in my plans.
“Absolutely not,” I state. I keep my eyes on Rune, watching blush rise through her cheeks.
“Protocol states?—”
“Get in, Rune,” I repeat. I open the door and gesture for her to climb into the carriage. Dae lets out a sharp breath, but I ignore him until she’s inside. Only then do I turn toward my secondary guard. “Do not press me today, Dae. It will not end well for you.”
He nods, a sharp tilt of his chin. He doesn’t agree, but he’s not going to outright disobey.
“Do not enter until I call for you,” I say.
Then, I climb into the carriage and shut the door behind me. The carriage is comprised of three long benches, outlining the interior windows. Rune sits on the left side, Viana claims the center, and I take the right. My betrothed glares at her servant, as if repulsed by her simple existence.
“I thought I was clear,” I say. My voice is low, lethal. I wait for Viana to look at me before I continue. “I told you not to harm someone who cannot fight back.”
Viana blanches, and Rune visibly stiffens at my words. Though it takes all my conscious effort, I don’t let myself look at her. I focus only on Viana.
“My love, I assure you, I didn’t?—”
“I know exactly what you’ve done,” I say. I try to maintain a steady voice, but my anger is spitting out like overflowing water. “You gave me your word, and you broke it.”
“No,” she says. Her words choke, and she reaches for me, fingers trembling. I lean from her touch, using all my self-control not to shove her away.
“Consider our betrothal absolved,” I say.
She sucks in a sharp breath, flinching as though I have shoved her. She’s still trembling, and now, large tears well and spill onto her cheeks.
“You can’t break a betrothal,” she whispers. Then, sucking in a raspy breath, she adds, “It was one mistake, my love. I promise. Never again.”
I line my teeth together, grinding them until they hurt. I know she’s lying about changing her ways, but I’m terrified she’s right about breaking a betrothal. I’m not sure it’s ever been done. I’m not sure the Committee will allow it…
I glance at Rune. She’s hugging herself, eyes bolted to the floor. She’s not crying, her mouth set in a determined line. I imagine she’s terrified, but she's doing her best not to show it, and I am again mesmerized. She’s wildly brave and relentlessly strong, and I’m desperate to find some of that power in myself.
“Our betrothal is absolved,” I repeat, facing Viana again. “Appeal the queen, if you wish, but I will not marry you. Perhaps Malek will take you—you certainly deserve each other.”
She lets out a sob, and if I didn’t know her cruelty, I’d feel bad for the way she shrinks now.
“My love?—”
“Your nothing,” I correct. Then, “You will leave this carriage. Tell them the truth, if you wish, or lie and say you’re feeling unwell. Either way, leave this carriage and never speak to me again.”
She’s fully crying now as she shoves to her feet. She throws open the carriage door and half-falls onto the wet cobblestone. It is only when she looks back, glaring expectantly at Rune that I realize she’s more deranged than I imagined possible.
Rune rises from her seat, only to stop when I place a hand on her wrist.
“She no longer serves you,” I say. “Now leave.”
Viana doesn’t respond. She whips away from me, stumbling across the courtyard and ignoring Dae’s call of concern. His head turns toward me, but I ignore him, giving Rune my full attention.
“Nobody will harm you again,” I tell her. Those blue eyes are on me, wide and terrified. I’m not sure she believes me now, but soon enough she will. “Anyone who makes the mistake of trying will suffer the consequences.”
Rune’s mouth hangs open, moving slightly as she searches for a response. Before she can, Dae appears at the carriage door.
“My prince?—”
“Don’t,” I say, cutting him off. Then, just before shutting the door, I add, “Let’s go.”