Between Smoke and Shadow

17. Rune

SEVENTEEN

RUNE

I am alone in Harrick’s room, sitting on the floor beside the four-poster bed. I’ve never been in such a magnificent place, and I’m too terrified to touch anything. Two walls are composed of wide, golden logs with windows twice my height. This room is on the home’s second level, giving me the perfect view of the surrounding forest. It’s hard to see much beyond vibrant green leaves and rolling hills, but I think Haver Lake is visible in the distance.

Aside from the bed, which is fitted with an elaborate red duvet and matching pillows, the room contains a spacious wardrobe, an intricate rug that spans the entire floor, and a large desk beneath an enormous painting of the Wilds. I imagine this is one of the Architect’s properties, but I don’t know for sure.

I pick at a loose thread on the rug, careful not to make it worse. After hours of raucous laughter and drunken shouts, the guards have fallen silent downstairs. It sounds like they’re all asleep, though I doubt that's true. I strain my ears for sound, but it’s quiet for nearly an hour straight. The first thing I finally hear is creaking steps. I slink against the bed, expecting a guard to appear in the doorway. Instead, it’s the male servant, watching me with an assessing gaze. I hold my breath. I’m sure he knows not to touch me, but what if he does anyway? Harrick might not be back for hours.

“They’ve passed out,” he says, and he speaks like his words should be a comfort.

Until now, I’ve never been around a crown servant. They’re a bit in both worlds, unlike the rest of us. Only elites can serve the crown members, meaning this man was born into wealth and prestige. It’s only his circumstances that have landed him here, wearing the same stark yellow coverall as I am. His elite insignia taunts me from his breast.

He’s like me, but he’s also like them .

I don’t respond to the servant. I can’t decide if he’s here as a friend or a predator, and I’m too scared to risk speaking.

“They’ll think it’s the nightwater,” the servant explains. His posture is relaxed, but it doesn’t make him less threatening. If anything, it’s only unsettling. His large frame fills most of the doorway as he leans against it. “That’s our strength, you know. They always underestimate us.”

“What did you do?” I ask. My voice sounds raspy, like I haven’t spoken in days.

“They’ll be fine,” he says. “I only put a few drops per cup.”

I run my tongue over my teeth, deciding not to ask anything else. Outside, the sky is getting darker, but there’s no sign of Harrick’s carriage. There’s no way he’ll be back in time to stop…whatever this is.

“Sorry, I’m scaring you,” the servant says. He puts his hands up, as if in surrender. A boyish grin touches his lips. “I’m doing this all out of order. I should have introduced myself. I’m Alven. A friend of Vale’s.”

All my worries cease existing, replaced by entirely new ones. This man isn’t here to do me harm. He’s here for the rebels, and he’s most likely going to tell Vale exactly where I’m sleeping. Does he think I’m a traitor?

I swallow. If any of the guards are eavesdropping, they might hear what isn’t being said. But it’s still silent downstairs.

“I’ve got information for you,” he continues. He steps into the room, crouching in front of me. His size is no less daunting—he’s not quite as tall as Harrick, but he’s definitely wider. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he leans toward me and lowers his voice. “There’s a guy in the City, someone Vale’s been itching to talk to. It’s risky. Too risky for my comfort, if I’m honest with you, Rune. I know where to find him. I know how to set up a meeting. But sneaking into the City like that…I think you know as well as I do, there’s a chance I don’t come back.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. My voice shakes, and I’m terrified I already know.

“When I heard Viana was coming today, I got myself added. Was hoping her servant would be here too,” he says. He grins, maybe at my confused expression. “I’ve got my ways, Rune Ealde. I’m a man who knows things. I know you’re working with Vale. I know there’s a man in the City. A man called Berg. He knows things even I don’t.”

I don’t say anything. I strain my ears, relieved to hear nothing from downstairs. A quick glance out the window ensures Harrick’s party hasn’t returned.

“I’m not about to risk my neck,” Alven says. “But I got the feeling you might want to risk yours.”

“What does he know?” I ask. Then, before he can answer, I add, “Something to get out?”

“If the rumors are true?” Alven grins at me. “Yes.”

“Okay,” I say.

My heart thrums in my chest, but there’s no reluctance in its beat. If there’s even a chance Berg can help us escape, I have to take it.

“Good,” Alven says.

He looks around Harrick’s quarters, and for the first time, his face sombers. It’s as if, suddenly, he has realized where we are.

“I hope Berg has the information you need,” he says. His dark eyes bore into mine. “I hope you get out before it’s too late.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“And I’m sorry,” Alven says, surprising me. “For what you’ll endure tonight.”

“Tonight?” I echo. I sound stupid, and Alven’s pitiful expression makes me feel even worse.

“I’ve never worked for Prince Harrick,” he says, his voice growing distant. “But if he’s anything like his brother…”

Alven swallows and looks away from me, out to the road where Harrick’s carriage left this afternoon.

“Will it be your first time?” he asks. When I only stare at him, mouth open, he clarifies, “Are you a virgin?”

“Oh,” I say. My stomach twists. Hard. Stupidly, pathetically stupidly, this didn’t occur to me. Harrick wouldn’t actually rape me, would he? He was so apologetic for kissing me in the training arena, but I’d called myself his pet whore, hadn’t I?

Everyone assumes that’s what will happen, and I’m suddenly terrified they could be right.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. He rises to his feet, looking almost as uncomfortable as I now feel. “Once we return to the Tower, you should seek a kitchen servant. They have remedies to prevent…”

He trails off then, a myriad of things left unsaid.

“Thank you,” I say, even though it’s horrible. I should ask what I’d be preventing. Pregnancy? Disease? I can’t bring myself to do anything but stare.

Alven nods sharply and starts back for the door.

“You’ll tell me how to find Berg?” I ask, mostly because I don’t want that to be the conversation I’m left with.

“Yes,” he says. He seems haunted now, like he’s suddenly realized my fate and can’t bear to look at me anymore.

I can’t decide if he’s pitying me for what’s going to happen, or if he’s hating himself for not being able to stop it.

“Goodnight, Rune.”

“Goodnight, Alven,” I say. I don’t watch him leave. Instead, I lay my head against my knees and close my eyes, willing myself not to cry.

“Rune.”

His voice is soft, like crushed velvet, and it doesn’t startle me like it should. I wake in a hazy confusion, but my body doesn’t panic. It’s as if it’s decided Harrick is a safe place to rest, even with Alven’s earlier warning in my head.

“Rune,” he says again.

I blink at him twice before remembering where I am and how I got here. I’m laying on the rug, my head nearly beneath the bed, and Harrick is knelt at my side. His hand rests next to my hip, and he’s looking at me with gentle concern.

Any thoughts of him forcing himself on me fade into the background.

“My prince,” I say. I’m finally alert enough to realize how shameful I’m behaving. Slumped over on the floor, probably drooling all over this expensive rug. I sit up, patting at my face to check for spit.

“Harrick,” he corrects. A wrinkle appears between his brow as he looks at me. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” is my only answer.

“The meeting went longer than I expected,” he says.

He moves to his feet and offers me his hand. I stare at him in shock, taking a moment too long to snap into action. I rest my palm in his and try to breathe normally as he helps me stand. We’re chest to chest, our breaths mingling, his lips tauntingly close. If I went onto my toes, I could kiss him. Instead, I step back, hugging my arms around my waist.

“I brought you food,” he says. He returns a moment later, holding a glass plate toward me. On it, there’s more food than I’ve had in days. Thick pieces of meat—maybe chicken or squab, a leafy purple vegetable I don’t recognize, and a mix of ripe berries. My mouth waters without permission. I glance at him as I slowly reach for the plate, bracing for the chance he might pull away.

Of course, he doesn’t. He settles the plate in my hands, offering me a small smile. I shovel the food down too quickly, not because I’m terrified he’ll take it back, but because I’m too hungry to help myself. The meat and berries are delicious, easily the best things that have ever touched my tongue. Servants are usually fed gruel, some disgusting blend of all the elite and guards’ leftover meals.

But this…this is purely decadent.

Even the leafy purple vegetable is good. It’s bitter and sharp, but I eat every speck of it.

“There’s more,” he says.

“That’s okay,” I say. I clutch the empty plate to my chest. “I…I’m full.”

It’s not a lie, either. I’ve eaten more than is comfortable, and there’s a good chance I’ll feel sick later.

“Here,” he says, reaching for the plate. I hesitantly give it to him, watching as he places it on the room’s desk. Only now do I realize the door is closed. My stomach swoops low, sending a tingling sensation up into my chest.

“Tell me if you want more,” he says. It’s a demand, but a gentle one. “Even if I’m sleeping.”

I nod. I’m sure he knows I wouldn’t dare.

He slips out of his shoes, and I stop thinking of food at all. His jacket goes next, unbuttoned and carefully draped over the desk’s chair. Harrick holds the bottom of his shirt, as if he’s debating whether to remove it. I tense without permission, and Harrick’s attention comes up at the movement. My insides war with each other, an uncomfortable blend of instinctual fear and tentative trust.

“May I ask something?” I’m so rigid, and from the crease between Harrick’s brows, he already knows I’m terrified.

“Always, Rune,” he says. He steps closer, and I force myself not to move.

“Am I to have sex with you?” I ask. My knees start to buckle at my question alone. I’ve only been kissed by Harrick, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The thought of being fully intimate is terrifying.

“Wyhel,” he says. He steps toward me, only to pull himself back. His mouth opens a few times, then shuts again. Finally, he takes a slow breath. “Gods, Rune, no . I told the guards what was needed to keep you safe. I am not going to harm you. Understood?”

“Understood,” I echo. My legs still tremble, but now, guilt creeps through me. Harrick has only ever been kind and good to me, and yet I constantly expect the worst. It must be exhausting, insulting, even. “I shouldn’t have…I apologize.”

“You don’t need to,” he says. He runs his hand through his hair, looking away from me, toward the bed. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“It’s not?—”

“Please, Rune.” Harrick looks almost sick, with me or himself, I’m not sure. “Gods, please. Just—just get in the bed.”

I shift on my feet, debating for a long second, before forcing myself to nod. I can’t imagine what will happen if a guard enters to find Harrick on the floor and me in his bed, but the desperation in Harrick’s voice has me moving anyway. I slip out of my shoes and ease onto the bed. It’s ridiculously comfortable, a level of softness I didn’t know existed.

“Wow,” I whisper. I’m terrified my clothes are dirty, that I’m ruining the luxurious bedding. I don’t let myself panic. I force the thoughts away and tuck myself beneath the covers. Once I’m settled, I finally allow myself to look at Harrick.

He smiles, but it doesn’t look like the tender one he’s shown me so many times. It looks pained, forced in a way that makes me feel responsible.

He takes a pillow from the empty side of my bed and lowers to the floor. With a flick of his hand, the light vanishes from the room. We’re instantly submerged in darkness, with only the moon’s natural light coming through the window. Though I can’t see Harrick, I can hear his steady, even breaths.

Somehow, I’m sure he’s still awake, even an hour later.

“Harrick?” I whisper. My voice sounds too loud, and I’m not sure why I’ve called to him at all.

“Yes, Rune?” he asks. Something about his voice calms me and makes me feel an inexplicable flicker of bravery.

“Would you like to look at my eyes?”