26. Harrick
TWENTY-SIX
HARRICK
My second duel with Malek is tonight, and I’ve spent the past several working my ass off to prevent another embarrassing loss. I’ve gone back and forth over whether I even want to win against my brother. On the one hand, it will be far easier to be with Rune if I’m not king. On the other, I can’t be with Rune if Malek helps the Architect abandon Savoa, leaving us both to rot. The more I think about it, the more it’s clear this is a lose-lose situation. Still, I haven’t been able to let either option go.
I stand in the center of the shadowed training room. The magic in my bones vibrates, anxious to be released. I grab a weapon off the wall. It’s Rune’s sword, the one that sent her crashing into my life. It feels right to practice with it, even though I won’t be able to use it later.
I twist the neck of the sword in my palm. It had knocked Rune clear off her feet when she used it, but I’d shown her how to keep her balance. I smile at the memory. Despite everything I’ve noticed about Rune—all the details that hint she’s up to something I wouldn’t like—I’m surrounded by warmth when I think of her. I’m so pathetically smitten I don’t want to figure out what she’s doing. I like being with her, even if it’s all a lie.
I wonder what that says about me.
A tiny click sounds, and my stomach jolts. It’s too early for any of the trainers to be awake, let alone here. My heart leaps, hopeful that maybe she’s here. I spin on my heel, dropping my sword, a wild grin spreading. By the time I realize it’s not Rune, it’s too late. Tora has already seen me, seen how hopeful and excited I was.
“Sorry, it’s only me,” she says. She’s wearing a red gown, fancy enough for this afternoon’s fight, but her clothes and hair are still a mess, like she’s just woken. Her eyes narrow at me, quietly assessing.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I say. It’s not technically a lie.
“Right,” she says with a scoff. She leans against the door frame, looking almost bored. It’s forced, like she wants to act calm but isn’t. She’s probably waiting for just the right minute to scold me. She clears her throat, “For the record, I waited to make sure she wasn’t here.”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” I repeat, words harsh. “What are you doing here anyway? It’s early. I’m trying to train.”
“It’s Rune, isn’t it?” Tora asks. “The woman you love?”
My entire body clenches and red flashes behind my eyes. There’s a good chance my fingers are sparking right now, but there’s no time to hide them. If there was any doubt in Tora’s mind, I’ve all but confirmed it.
“I see the way you look at her,” she whispers. “Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t notice it before.”
I don’t move a single muscle in my body. I have no idea when Tora would have even seen us together, but I don’t say that. I face away from her, desperate to hide my expression.
“It’s so obvious now,” she continues, voice still low. “Every time I thought you were drooling over Viana Llroy, and all along, it was the sickly little handmaiden.”
I see nothing but red, and I’m too afraid to speak. Anything I say will give me away, and if I try to move, I’m afraid of what I’ll do. I would never hurt Tora, but the thought of her unraveling everything, of getting Rune killed… I suck in a breath, and it sounds wet. I realize I’m crying.
“This isn’t just someone below your rank, Harrick,” Tora says. She speaks as if I don’t know that, like I haven’t realized the potential consequences of loving Rune Ealde. “She’s a criminal . When the Architect finds out, he’s going to kill her. He’ll rip her apart and make you watch.”
I finally turn. My body is in front of hers before I’ve fully decided to move. I dig my hand against the doorframe to Tora’s left, squeezing the metal so hard I swear it flexes. She gasps, mouth falling slack as I corner her.
“You cannot tell,” I say through gritted teeth. “Tora, I swear—I will do anything you ask of me. Relinquish the throne. Demand the Architect give it to you. Kill your enemies until the end of time. But you cannot tell.”
I’m breathing so hard I might pass out. Tora doesn’t respond, and I can’t read her expression. The red of my vision is too hazy and my mind is shattered glass, each thought too broken to put back together.
“Tora. Do you understand? If you tell anyone, they’ll kill her—and I can’t let that happen. I won’t .”
“Breathe,” Tora says, glancing out the doorway. I follow her gaze, just long enough to confirm we’re still alone. There’s a curious look on her face when she turns back to me. “You know I wouldn’t.”
“Sorry,” I say, forcing myself to relax. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just?—”
“It’s okay. You protect the people you love, Harrick,” she says. “That’s why I’m here actually. I overheard Malek talking about her. I didn’t tell him anything. I swear it. I don’t even think he knows about you two, though I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if?—”
“What did he say.” It comes out, not as a question, but as a demand. My magic pulses, hot and electric, until I’m sick with it.
“The thing he did to that other servant. The redhead?—”
I surge past Tora, running before I’ve even hit the corridor. She calls my name, but I don’t stop. My head pulses and I’m dizzy, imagining every fucking thing he could do to her. Plant evidence, have her thrown in a cell, have her murdered right where she’s standing. No time for an explanation, a defense. No time for me to kill everyone within five hundred feet of her.
I don’t stop moving until I reach the lift at the end of the hallway. I smash my hand against the panel. One. Two. Three. It’s taking too long, the soft whir sounding twenty floors away.
Rune should be in her room, but what if she isn’t? What if she crosses paths with him?—
Tora reaches me just as I strike the panel for a fourth time. She grabs my arm, not rough but not timid either.
“Harrick. Calm yourself,” she says, sounding strangely like our mother. “If Malek knows you care, he’ll only want to hurt her more. You can’t admit anything.”
“You suggest I ignore this?” I ask, smacking my hand against the panel again.
“I didn’t say anything like that,” she says. Even though I’m not looking at her, I know exactly the cross expression she’s wearing. She tightens her hold on my elbow. “If you want to protect Rune—not just now but forever—you know what you need to do.”
I look at her expectantly.
“You need to win, Harrick,” she says. “If you want Rune to live, you have to win.”
I don’t see her. With the spotlight over the fighting dome, I can’t see much of anything. The Architect, Mother, and Tora are off to my left, highlighted on their thrones. Rune isn’t here. Now that she’s not serving Viana, she doesn’t have an excuse to come. I wanted Tora to bring her, but of course that was a stupid idea.
Even without Rune here, she’s still the one I’m thinking about as I pace the length of the arena. The announcer is still introducing Malek, and I can see him sneering from beyond the glass enclosure. I don’t let it get to me.
It all ends tonight.
This duel might not be intended as a fight to the death, but no one will be surprised if it ends that way.
They’ll only be surprised that I’m the one left standing.
I remain motionless on my side of the arena as Malek enters. Like last time, he’s working the crowd, a deceptively charming grin on his face. I stare at him, letting every horrible thing about him fill my mind.
Malek at six, breaking Tora’s arm after she’d already surrendered.
Malek at nine, killing the injured tree cat I rescued from the Wilds.
Malek at thirteen, coming home from the City of Mirrors with his first scar.
Malek at seventeen, bragging to Sorace about his favorite kills.
“Prince Harrick, Prince Malek. Please prepare for battle.” The automated voice is loud enough to hear over the crowd, to break through my flashing thoughts.
Malek framing the red headed servant. Malek pinning Alven Tjor against the wall, his eyes glazed with pooling magic.
Now, my brother stares at me. His pose is relaxed, but there’s a crinkle between his brows, like maybe he can sense the chaos rising within me. Maybe he realizes I’ve lost my sanity, my rationalization.
He cocks his head to the side, an amused smile lifting his lips. No, he doesn’t realize a thing. Malek only ever notices himself.
Beep.
The first buzzer goes, and Malek’s smile widens. I let his grin infect my mind, let it soak into every good moment I’ve had with Rune. I make myself imagine it: him taking every precious future moment away in an instant, just because he can.
Beep .
There are more to come. More buzzers. A clash of cymbals. A shock of darkness and light. Fighters are required to wait. It’s the rule, and no honorable contender would strike before the flashing light, the final note. But if our society allows the murder of defenseless commoners, who are we to say what’s honorable?
I scream, launching Malek with a force of wind that knocks us both off our feet. Only where I stumble, he slams across the arena and against the protective shield. His head snaps back, making a hideous thud against the glass. The crowd screams in protest, the buzzer continuing its automated countdown.
I’m already back on my feet, screaming again, wrapping vines around his body like they’re a hundred vipers. Squeezing harder and harder, so tight on his neck that his skin is purple. His mouth opens, but there’s no sound. For the first time in his life, he’s forced silent and helpless.
“You want to play dirty?” I scream. The words aren’t mine. They’re from a thousand versions of me in time, from a boy who desperately wanted a brother and got a monster instead. Every ounce of anger I’ve harbored in our twenty cycles, pouring out now, amplifying my voice to the entire arena.
I thrust my hands harder, squeezing the vines until I hear bone cracking. The crowd boos, as if they think their judgment will stop me. Nothing but Malek’s lifeless eyes will silence the roaring in my bones, the determination in my blood.
“You want to cheat and lie and thieve? You want to murder and destroy?” My voice has gone hoarse, but I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if the crowd can hear—only that Malek does. I want my hatred to be the last thing he hears. “I’m done following the rules, just to watch you break them. You made an error, targeting her , brother. And it will be the last one you make.”
He loses consciousness, body falling slack. His eyes roll to the back of his head, but I’m still squeezing. I don’t stop, even as they try to pull me away. I’m not sure who they are, but I don’t care. I’m staring at my brother’s limp body, falling motionless as the reality of what I’ve done creeps over me. Guards hold my arms at my side, but I could throw them through this whole fucking Tower, if I wanted.
As my breathing slows, I wait for the guilt or horror to flood my senses. Instead, I don’t feel anything at all.