24. Harrick
TWENTY-FOUR
HARRICK
I sit on the edge of Rune Ealde’s bed, a well-worn text opened on the spot beside me. It’s an updated version of Illia’s Tome, Savoa’s most in-depth literature on our history, traditions, and laws. It starts with the Architect’s origin story—half of which is clearly a lie—and continues with enough propaganda to make my head hurt. Still, there’s useful information in here too. Maps, transcriptions, and sector guidelines. Right now, I’m reading and rereading the chapter, “Descendant Law”.
In the days since I’ve returned to the Tower, I’ve been obsessively studying anything on descendant marriage and kinship. I read it again now, leaned against the off-yellow wall of Rune’s quarters. Her room is as hideous as mine, made worse by its tiny size.
Nothing about this place indicates it belongs to Rune. It could be any servant’s quarters, reeking of sharp disinfectant and misery. The blankets are stiff, like they’re made of paper, and there’s nothing on the wall except a single hook.
There’s not even a nightstand, dresser, or lamp.
I’ve no more than thought the word lamp when the light disappears from the ceiling. It’s followed by a buzz in the corridor, signaling it’s officially midnight. I forgot their lights turn off like this, throwing them into complete blackness. Fumbling with the ancient book, I tuck it beneath the bed so I don’t step on it when I get up.
Where is she?
I light a spark of magic on my fingers, casting an eerie glow around me. My stomach twists the longer I sit here. She’d insisted on remaining in her own quarters, at least until my broken betrothal mess quieted down. I’d agreed, but now I feel like a fool. I have no idea where she is, if something has happened to her. She’s obviously not with Viana, and I’ve ensured she hasn’t been assigned any new duties in the meantime.
She should be here. There’s nowhere else she could be at this hour.
I pull the magic back into my bones before rising. Something is wrong . I move through the darkness of her room and stride into the corridor. My anxiety spikes as I walk the silent hall. I shouldn’t have waited so long to look for her. I should have sensed an hour ago that something was keeping her. Or someone . I imagine her standing against a wall again, her face bloodied and maskless.
If Malek comes across her or Viana or?—
I round the corner, and Rune collides into me. She’s faced away, as if checking behind her, and her head thumps against my chest. She sucks in a breath, making a tiny squeak, and wheels around to look at me. Her face is tight, mouth gaping.
“Shhh,” I say, before she makes another sound. “It’s me. What are you doing?”
I wait for the terror to slip away like an uncomfortable coat. I want it to disappear, for her to see me and smile and lean into me. But she doesn’t—she never does right away. No matter what I do, it feels like I have to work for her trust every single time.
She takes a step back hugging her arms over her chest. I scan her body, checking for any signs of injury. No cuts or scrapes, no visible blood. It looks like she’s been crying, but her mask makes it difficult to tell.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She sucks a heavy breath through her teeth, wide eyes darting around us. She still hasn’t spoken. She tilts her head toward her quarters, and without waiting for my response, she hurries away from me. By the time I reach her room, she’s already tucked inside, but the door has been left ajar.
I enter her quarters for the second time tonight, and only now do I wonder if it would bother her, me coming here without permission. There’s nothing personal in her room, but I suppose I didn’t know that before I entered. Maybe she’ll hate me for the invasion of privacy.
I swallow. This woman is doing something to my mind, making me question everything, making me worry and overthink. I close the door behind me and lean against it. Once again, I’m trapped in the absolute darkness of her room. Only this time, I can hear her breathing, feel her presence, within arm’s reach.
Despite everything else, I feel a pressure release from my chest.
Safe , I think. She’s safe.
“I don’t have a light,” she says after a long pause.
I lift my hand and form an orb of magic at my fingertips. Rune is closer than I thought, and she comes closer yet, chin tilted toward the glowing red. Her lips part, and it might be the first time she’s looked at me like this. In full wonder, like she’s mesmerized.
I imagine that’s my expression every time I look at her.
“Take off your mask,” I murmur. “Let me see you.”
It isn’t the first thing I should say. I should ask where she’s been. If she really was crying. If someone hurt her or if she was doing something that would hurt me . Whether it was sneaking around training with weapons, or worse, kissing lips that aren’t mine.
There’s a lot I need to say, but I can’t think of anything beyond the fact she’s hidden from me.
She unties her mask and knots it around the leg of her bed. I wonder if she does this every night, if it’s her way of knowing where to find it, even in the dark.
“Did the meeting go all right?” she asks.
I don’t ask how she knows about it—word travels fast here.
“They’re not happy,” I admit. I don’t clarify just how unhappy they are, Mother in particular. Apparently, I’ve strained her relationship with Demetrius Llroy. She doesn’t realize I take that as a personal win. I cup Rune’s face with my opposite hand, tilting her chin until her eyes meet mine. “They’ll get over it. I’m—I’m working on something that will fix everything. Trust me. It’s all going to be okay.”
I don’t want to tell her about my research, or my plans, until I’m sure something will come of it.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “I trust you.”
Her words sweep through me with an unexpected force, easing the strain in my lungs. There are so many unanswered questions between us, and when she says things like that, it makes me wonder why. If she trusts me, why did she go out in the City when I warned her what could happen? Why is she learning how to use weapons when no one is looking? What is she plotting, and am I secretly just a pawn, playing into her game?
Worst of all, why haven’t I dared to ask her?
I’m still working through the reasons when she touches my shoulders. Her fingers tremble against me, and I forget everything else. I don’t dare breathe, terrified she’ll stop if I do. She’s holding me, and I can’t be the reason she lets go.
“Kiss me, Harrick,” she says, voice soft and tender. So fucking sweet, and I realize there’s not much I wouldn’t do if she asked.
So I don’t ask the questions I should. Instead, I withdraw my magic and bury my fingers into her hair. I claim her mouth, rougher than I was the last two times. Rune doesn’t seem to mind. She’s arcing into me, breathing soft moans as I kiss her deeper, harder. Her hands slide up my shoulders and settle against the nape of my neck. She leans into me, like she’s craving this moment as much as I am.
It’s all I need to lose whatever bit of common sense I have.
I tug Rune against me, holding both sides of her face now, tasting her lips until they part, until she gives me full access into her mouth. She gasps as I pull her into my arms and turn us for the bed.
I want to lose control, almost as much as I want her to lose control. Even if it’s only for the night, I want her to forget titles and consequences. Just be here, I want to say. Just let me make you feel good.
She moans, and the sound shoots straight to my cock. I drop her onto her bed, crawling over her, covering her body with mine. I break away from her mouth, laying kisses across her jaw and down the column of her throat. Her fingers dig into the back of my shoulders, as if silently urging me forward. More, her touch says , give me more.
My body is corded with tension. I’m imagining my cock buried inside her, the way her eyes would roll back when I made her come. I want to taste every inch of her and listen to her breathy noises when my mouth is elsewhere.
I’ve kissed a lot of women. Fucked a lot of women. But I’ve never felt this strange mixture of lust and longing and determination that I do now. Even more than I’m chasing my own release, I’m chasing hers . I want her to enjoy this. To crave it. To crave me .
It’s late when I finally leave Rune and arrive at my quarters. Regardless of everything I’ve read and everything that’s been beaten into my head since I was born, nights like tonight remind me why there has to be a way for us to be together. Losing my place as heir will only help. Mother and the Committee might not approve of me marrying a low-class commoner, a criminal servant at that. But so long as I’m not making her queen, I think they’ll get over it.
I hope .
I push into my room, more surprised than I should be to find Tora once again on my bed. She’s sorting through a gigantic pile of rings, all varying shades of red, that she must have brought with her. With a quick glance in my direction, she continues sorting, her mouth furrowed into an unpleasant grimace.
“Where have you been?” she asks. It comes out more as a grunt, punctuated by the sound of one ring falling amongst others. She grabs one with a black metal band and an exaggerated red stone, shaped like a bolt of lightning. Scoffing, as if personally affronted by its design, Tora adds it to the pile of discards.
“Why are you here?” I counter. I already know, but the sooner I can get her off the subject of my whereabouts and onto whatever wedding anxiety she has, the better.
Rather than answering, she only glances at me, eyes hardening. Then she’s back to sorting.
“Do you know what he said when I asked about a ring?” she asks, not elaborating and not needing to. She inspects the next one, a smaller ring with multiple oval-shaped stones. It follows the lightning bolt atrocity before Tora pauses. Her fingers twitch in her lap as she looks at me. “He said I should just pick whichever one I liked best. Said he didn’t have a preference.”
“You want him to decide for you?” I ask. I try to be gentle with the question, but even I can hear the judgment in my voice. When Tora’s glare deepens, I drop any act of subtlety and shrug. “Why would you want him to pick? I thought you didn’t like him anyway.”
“He’s going to be my husband, Harrick,” she says, working her jaw. I wonder how long she’s been here, if she settled on my bed at about the same time I settled on Rune’s.
“So you want him to tell you?—”
“No,” she snaps. A heated blush spreads over her face, darkening her golden skin. “I don’t want Nordan to tell me what to wear or what ring to choose. I just…I want him to care . I want him to act like this matters. It’s a business transaction—trust me, I understand. But it’s also a marriage. It’s going to be miserable if…if he doesn’t…”
She trails off, watery eyes moving back to the rings. With her lip between her teeth, she squints at the next option. Her breath quickens, like she’s about to start sobbing.
Suddenly, my mind feels far less electric and far more exhausted. My sister can have that effect on me.
“It’s stupid, but I want Nordan to care about me and I want to care about him. Even if it’s forced, it can be good. Right?”
I don’t let myself respond, because I can’t lie. I can’t tell Tora that I believe a marriage can be forced and good. Forced is scratchy sleeves and false laughter, pretty lies and hideous truths. Good is terrified bravery and earned smiles, trusting eyes and soft whispers.
“I suppose I could always try to break my betrothal too,” she says, sighing. She leans against my overstuffed pillows, finally abandoning the mounds of jewelry. “How’s that going, by the way? Have you been stripped of your title yet?”
“Pretty sure they did that before I broke my betrothal,” I say, earning a tiny smile.
I sit at the foot of the bed and pick through Tora’s rings. A few are nice, but most are gaudy and bulky. I grab a delicate ring with an oval-shaped stone. Without permission, I imagine this ring on a certain servant’s finger.
“Thinking about Viana?” asks Tora. Her voice is soft, hesitant. “You never told me why you ended things with her. You can talk to me, you know. If you’ve changed your mind?—”
“I despise that woman,” I say with a stiff laugh. I rotate the ring between my fingers. “I don’t regret breaking my betrothal. I only wish I did it sooner.”
“Are you going to ask for a new match?” Tora asks. “Maybe you should approach them with a suggestion in mind. You always did like Gielle Fosfen.”
“I’ve fallen in love,” I tell her. I’m not sure why I do, only that the truth spills from my lips like overflowing water. The confession eases the pressure in my chest. My feelings for Rune have built so strong, so quickly, I haven’t known what to do with them. I haven’t wanted to admit them out loud, not even to myself, terrified what they mean and what happens if this all falls apart.
I know better than to talk about Rune with anyone, even Tora. It’s dangerous and stupid, and yet, I can’t take it anymore. I want everyone to know. Maybe the sooner it’s out in the open, the sooner I can have her on a throne beside me.
“You’re… what ?” Tora asks. Her jaw is slack as she leans toward me. “With whom? Since when? If you’re messing with me?—”
“I’m not,” I say, though surely she already knows that.
“Wow.” She twists her hair over her shoulder, looking at me with an unfamiliar expression. “Is she why you ended your betrothal?”
“Yes,” I admit. “I despise Viana, but if I hadn’t fallen in love, I would have tolerated the marriage.”
“Love,” Tora repeats. Her mouth twitches into a frown. “What happened to love is not for us, sister ? What about it being for the best?”
“She happened,” I say. My voice softens when I speak about Rune, and I look away, hoping Tora can’t hear it.
“Wow,” she says. She scrutinizes me for a long time before breathing out a harsh puff of air. Finally she nods. “So you’ll ask the Committee to wed this woman. Is she of high enough rank?”
I swallow. I should look Tora in the eye so she doesn’t get suspicious, but my brain suddenly doesn’t feel like it’s working. Everything feels mushy and slow, and I swear I can hear Tora’s mind working through all that I’ve said.
“She’s not, is she?” she asks, confirming my suspicion. “You don’t think they’ll say yes.”
I want to laugh. Of course they wouldn’t say yes. Rune would be blamed for seducing me, for pulling me away from my duties. Whether or not I’m made king, the Committee won’t approve.
“Oh Harrick,” Tora says. Her expression has turned pained, pitiful. “You’re going to get her killed.”