28. Rune
TWENTY-EIGHT
RUNE
I wake up several hours later. Harrick is still here, shirtless but wearing pants. He’s wrapped my blanket around me, and his arm is trapped beneath my head as a makeshift pillow. I roll over, blinking up at him, half-expecting him to disappear. There’s a part of me that’s still sure this is all a dream, and that at any moment, I’ll wake up and realize it never happened.
“Hey,” he says, voice gravelly. He’s reading Illia’s Tome , and by the dark bags under his eyes, it’s gotten incredibly late. It doesn’t look like he’s slept.
I glance at his lips, blushing. Only hours ago, he was inside me , and I’m inexplicably aroused by the ache he’s left behind. I shift my legs, feeling the soreness and hoping it never goes away.
As if he can sense my wandering mind, Harrick’s mouth slants into an easy smile. He brushes the hair from my face, looking at me with the utmost care and affection. This man loves me. Even if he wouldn’t have told me, I’d know. I can feel it in the way he’s gazing at me now, as if I’m precious and important and his .
If there’s a single person in this world to trust, it’s him.
I study him. It feels like my lungs are shriveling and curling up my throat, like I could puke half my organs on the bed if I tried. Harrick quirks his head, concern sketching his features. I should say something light, something casual. But there’s a blaring sensation in my chest, begging me not to let this— him —go.
“I’ve been planning my escape for over a cycle,” I tell him. It comes out in a rush, making it sound like an impossibly long word, rather than a sentence. When Harrick blinks at me, his face stunned, I clarify in a low whisper, “My escape from the Tower.”
“I knew what you meant,” he says, voice quiet. His eyes sweep over me, as if he’s seeing me in a way he never expected. I can’t tell if he hates it.
I bite my lip hard enough that it starts to bleed. Harrick hasn’t gotten angry or shown any sign he’s about to imprison me. He only stares, but it’s enough to make my entire body shiver. I recoil slightly, tugging the blanket higher on my chest.
“Hey,” he says, gentle as ever. He touches my face, pressing his thumb to the bleeding spot on my lip. Even when I flinch at his touch, his face remains steady, patient. “Careful, sweetheart.”
“Are you mad?” I ask. His endearment settles the nerves in my gut, but cycles of abuse keep me on edge.
“Of course not,” he says. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Is that—is that what you were doing that day in the City?”
“Kind of,” I say, not sure how much I want to admit. Harrick takes a deep breath. He’s still holding my face, a gentle sadness crossing it.
“I don’t blame you for trying to leave,” he says. He strokes my cheek. “But do you have any idea what I would have done if you disappeared? Not attacked, not hurt…just gone . Rune, I would have torn this world to shreds looking for you."
“We weren’t leaving,” I say. I lean against Harrick’s hand, but I move my eyes away from him. I’m tempted to ask about the hoarded magic, but then I’m sharing more than just my secret. It’s one thing to risk my life, another to risk the entire faction’s. “I don’t want to say more.”
“Thank you, for telling me,” he says.
His fingers slide to the back of my hair, squeezing gently. He tilts his head, reclaiming my line of sight. He pulls me tighter against his side, and though I’m embarrassed at my nakedness, I don’t pull away. Once I’m settled, he kisses the crown of my head, sweeping my hair to the side.
“Gods, I can’t wait to hold you like this all the time,” he whispers against my hair.
I let his words wash the insecurity from my skin. I lay my head against his chest and lose myself in the steady rhythm of his breaths and his heartbeat. His thumb strokes over my hip, again and again, like a silent lullaby, until I find myself drifting to sleep once more.
Harrick is gone when I wake the following morning. There’s a breakfast tray in my room, and it’s by far the best thing I’ve eaten in my life. It’s better than the ones Mom made before she got sick, and it’s so far superior to servant meals there’s no comparing them. I sit cross-legged on the bed, cutting into the final egg on my plate. I’m already stuffed, but I’d be a fool not to eat every crumb.
The six o’clock buzzer sounds. I’ve been waiting for reassignment ever since being taken off Viana’s service, but so far, a notice hasn’t come. I imagine Harrick is behind it. One way or another, I’ve had ample free time. Today, I’m going to take a long shower and see if I can snag anything useful for Vale. While I’m not sure what I’m going to do now that I’ve told Harrick the truth, I can’t bring myself to abandon the mission entirely.
I take my last bite and check that I haven’t spilled yolk on my coverall. Relieved I haven’t—since Harrick sent this new one only yesterday—I slip into my shoes and open the door to the hallway.
I’m startled backward when Harrick himself pushes into my quarters. He looks handsome as ever, but he’s exhausted too. Dark bags color beneath his eyes, and he’s blinking like he’s ready to fall asleep.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, stumbling back a few steps. “Why are you up this early?”
“I never went to sleep,” he says. He closes the door behind him and leans against it, and I realize he’s still wearing the same clothes from last night. I flush at the reminder of what we did, only to shake my head.
“What are you doing here?” I repeat. “Someone might see you and think?—”
“What will they think, Rune?” He asks, giving me an almost goofy grin. He’s giddy , I realize, like this is somehow a joke.
“I don’t know, but I’m the one they’ll punish,” I say. My arms start shaking without my permission, only for Harrick to press his hands to my shoulders, steadying them.
“No one is going to touch you,” he says. Despite the severity of his tone, the easy smile remains. “Because by this time tomorrow, you will be their queen.”
I stumble a step backwards, surprised at the high laugh that bursts from my lips. I can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed at all, but this sneaks up on me. No one has ever said such ridiculous words.
“Is that right?” I ask. Despite everything, I smile at him and his inexplicable excitement. He’s proven time and time again that he’ll keep me from danger, so if he’s not worried for my safety, I’ll trust he knows what he’s doing.
Harrick freezes, staring at me with wide eyes and a parted mouth.
“What?” I ask. I shift on my feet, feeling the weight of his gaze scouring over me. I suddenly worry I didn’t check for egg yolk well enough.
Harrick grabs my waist, pulling me against his. His mouth crashes against mine, and he tangles his hand through my hair, tugging gently. He pulls back all too soon, breathing hard and eyes bright with electric energy.
“You are so beautiful when you smile,” he says. “Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I blush, feeling the heat everywhere. I want to say something back, but it all feels inadequate. Before I can think of anything, Harrick breaks away, pulling a few folded documents out of his coat pocket.
“I found what we need,” he says. He speaks with hesitant excitement, as if he’s not sure I’ll feel as happy about this as he does. “Well, technically Tora found what we need.”
I know she’s his sister, but hearing him refer to the princess so casually is strange.
“After I left here last night,” he continues. “She and Joran helped me do research. It took us hours, but…”
He trails off as he unfolds the documents. After handing the stack to me, he waits with lifted eyebrows. My stomach pulses uneasily as I look at the different texts. I squint at the top section, because that’s a trick Vale taught me. Focus on the first paragraph and hope it gives an insight to the entire page.
Event. Illegal. Crown. Honor.
Shame heats my face.
“I can’t read,” I finally admit. My voice cracks, but I tell myself not to cry. It’s not my fault I was taught too late, and that my teacher barely knows how to read himself.
Harrick doesn’t laugh or tease me. He gently takes the papers from me, laying them on the bed beside us. He takes my hands and leans in, our lips almost touching.
“It’s how we can be together,” he says. His warm breath fans over my skin, tickling softly. “All those papers say a variation of the same thing: if we’re married before I’m made king, you’ll be queen. So long as we keep it a secret before I’m crowned, there’ll be nothing they can do.”
Harrick dips to meet my eyes, and my breath catches. When he said Tora saw the way he looked at me—and that’s why she suspected us—I’d shrugged off the comment. Now though, I think maybe it’s true. I think he might look at me differently than he looks at anyone else.
“Married?” I repeat. The word ricochets between my ears, refusing to settle in one place. A strange and lovely numbness burns through my chest. Still, there’s no way he’s being serious. He hasn’t actually thought about marrying me. It’s absurd and unrealistic and pathetic…and yet, my shredded hope begs that’s exactly what he means.
“That’s not how I planned to do it,” he says, blushing. His words shake, but his gaze is as steady as ever. “Marry me, Rune Ealde. Nothing makes me feel half as brave and worthy and good as you do. Let me spend the rest of my life making you happy. Safe. Powerful .”
I don’t realize I’m crying until he’s wiping at my face again. But for the first time, these are hopeful tears. Stunned tears. Completely and utterly happy tears.
“Are you sure?” I ask. I move my hands to his neck, unable to stop their trembling. “Don’t do this because you feel guilty or because you feel like you should. You don’t have to?—“
“I’m in love with you, Rune,” he says, cutting me off. “I want to marry you.”
I rise on my toes and pull him down by the collar until he’s close enough to kiss.
“Yes,” I say. It comes out as a quiet breath, but by the way he surges to kiss me, I know he’s heard. I lean into him, chasing his tongue with mine, tasting him and losing myself in the way he holds me. My usual insecurities are shadowed by pulsing adrenaline and the unbearable need to get closer.
I break away from his lips and trail kisses down the column of his throat. He groans, lifting me against him until my feet don’t touch the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing our chests together and relishing the soreness between my thighs. I’m desperate to feel him inside me again, but before I get carried away, I lean back to look at him.
“When?” I ask, chest still heaving.
“Whenever you want,” he says. “We won’t be able to have a ceremony until after I’m king—obviously—but we can still make it nice. If I have a few days, I can arrange for flowers and have your favorite meal made. We can go pick out?—”
I smile at him like the complete, lovestruck fool I am.
“I love you,” I tell him. His face softens at those three words, as if they’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “Today. I want to marry you today.”