Between Smoke and Shadow

29. Rune

TWENTY-NINE

RUNE

I stand in Harrick’s bedroom, surrounded by scarlet… everything . I don’t know how he bears to sleep here, how the red doesn’t give him a constant headache. If his sister wasn’t here, shooting me skeptical glances, I might ask him. Instead, I haven’t spoken a word since we arrived.

Princess Tora sits on Harrick’s bed, cross-legged, scrawling furiously over a fresh sheet of parchment. Brow furrowed, she only pauses to reference one of the wrinkled documents from earlier or to ask her brother a question. The few times I’ve seen her, she’s either worn training gear or a frilly dress. Right now, she’s got loose-fitting bottoms and a matching top.

It’s inexplicably endearing, watching Harrick interact with her. They clearly love each other, even as he makes fun of her handwriting and she accuses him of smelling like sweat. He most certainly doesn’t.

“Do you have a surname, Rune?” she asks. Up close, she looks perfectly golden and beautiful. I haven’t dared to meet her eyes, but I can tell she’s looking at me.

“Obviously,” Harrick says. His tone instantly shifts to agitation. “She’s a person, Tor. Not an animal.”

“I didn’t say she was an animal,” Tora snaps. “Some servants don’t have?—”

“Ealde,” I say, interrupting them. My voice is so quiet I’m not sure she’s heard me. “My number is 247, if that’s more useful.”

“You won’t be needing that much longer,” she says with something between a laugh and a scoff.

I shift on my feet, unsure whether she’s mocking, pitying, or judging me.

“All right, that’s everything,” Tora says. She shoves off the bed and stands between me and her brother. Looking at him, she asks, “Ready?”

In response, he looks to me and I give a sharp nod.

Much like sex, marriage is something I didn’t consider before Harrick. Servants don’t marry and having a child was the last thing I wanted. Maybe I would have married if I ever escaped the Tower, but my plans didn’t go that far into the future. Now that it’s actually happening, I wish my parents were here—my dad especially. He’d be tearing up, telling me he loves me and that he’s proud. He wouldn’t care that Harrick is heir to Savoa, he’d only want to know whether he’s good to me.

He is , I tell Dad, wherever his magic may be in this world.

“Join hands,” Tora says. Even though I don’t meet her eyes, skepticism is heavy in her expression. Aside from Joran, who stands guard on the other side of the door, she’s the only one who knows about me and Harrick. I hope, someday, she comes to like me.

“Can I take off your mask?” he asks, stealing my attention. I look at him, and unlike with Tora, I don’t hesitate to meet his gaze. The warm darkness of his eyes fills me with a sense of comfort. It reminds me of home, a feeling I haven’t had in cycles.

Rather than answer, I untie my mask and pass him the thin fabric. He loops the band around his wrist before taking my hands in his. He’s smiling now, that same giddy grin from earlier.

“Gods, you’re so pretty,” he whispers. He captures my mouth in his, not seeming to care that we’re in front of his sister. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing from head to toe by the time he pulls away.

“You’re supposed to wait until after you sign,” Tora says pointedly, but her expression changes from skepticism to curiosity. Harrick pulls away from me, still grinning, and roughs her hair. Then leaning into me again, he whispers, “Are you ready? Say the word, and we don’t do this.”

“I’m ready. I want to,” I say, breath shaky. “I’m just…scared.”

“You’re safe with me.” Harrick tucks my hair behind my ear. “Give yourself time, sweetheart. One day, soon , you won’t be scared of anything.”

That seems impossible, but I believe him anyway. I breathe through my nose and close my eyes. When I open them again, I push onto my toes, pressing a quick kiss against his stubbled cheek. Harrick smiles, and I do my best to block out the rising nerves.

Whatever happens after this, I could never regret him.

“Rune Ealde,” Tora says. “With your word and your name, do you vow to protect my brother’s heart and love him for the remainder of your days?”

“Yes,” I say, surprised when my voice cracks. A rogue tear slides down my face, and Harrick’s hand is immediately there, wiping it away.

“And Harrick Ademas,” Tora says, shifting to look at him “With your word and your name, do you vow to protect Rune’s heart and love her for the remainder of your days?”

“Yes,” he says. He keeps one hand on my face, and the other grasped between both of mine. He smiles at me with so much love it sends a physical ache through my chest. “I will love you forever, Rune.”

“I love you,” I whisper back, fighting another wave of tears.

“Sign here,” Tora says. She lays the parchment on the foot of Harrick’s bed, and he signs his name in beautiful calligraphy. Once he’s done, she turns the paper to me. My hand trembles and there’s a good chance I’ve misspelled my name, but it’s there.

When I return the pen to Tora, she glances over both signatures before adding her own.

“There,” she says. She blows out a heavy breath, pausing to dab at her eyes. “It’s done. Welcome to the family, Princess Rune.”

Hours after marrying Harrick, I walk the third level of the Tower alone. He’d wanted us to spend the rest of the day in his quarters, and it took more willpower than I knew I had to say no. Even now, my body is itching in frustration. I could be lying in a luxurious bed with the world’s most wonderful man—my husband —and instead I’m here, counting dingy doors on a low level servant floor.

The one I need is marked by peeling paint and a cracked doorway, and within it, Vale sits in the far corner. The brief splinter of light casts over his face, showing his drawn expression. He looks like absolute shit, and I feel an immediate pang of guilt.

I may have had the best day of my life today, but he clearly hasn’t.

“This better be important,” is his greeting.

I leave a crack of light for the room and crouch at his side. I unzip the front of my coverall, just far enough to pull out a single folded map. It’s strange knowing I won’t escape with my faction as I originally planned, but I know deep in my soul, this is for the best. Not only for me, but for all the rebels. For all of Savoa, hopefully.

Once Harrick is king and I am queen, we will work to get that magic redistributed. I haven’t spoken to him about it —he doesn’t even know I’m aware the bunker exists. Still, I know who Harrick is in his heart, and I trust he will do what’s right. It won’t matter if we have to face the Architect himself—we will fight to save this kingdom, and we will do it together. Maybe someday, Vale will come back to help, but for now, I want to give him the thing he desires most: his freedom.

Using the light from the hallway, I show Vale the map.

“Is that?—”

“An escape route,” I confirm. It was crafted by Harrick himself, the surest way to get out without getting caught. “If you can make it through here, you’ll get out before anyone realizes you’re missing.”

There’s a long stretch of silence as Vale studies the map. He scoffs, tapping the exit point.

“This goes into a wall,” he says, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.

“It’s a secret door, hidden by a bookshelf. You’ll see it once you’re in there. It will lead to some stairs, and at the bottom, a tunnel.”

“A tunnel?” Vale repeats. He narrows his eyes at me. “The Tower doesn’t have tunnels.”

“Just like it doesn’t have a bunker full of magic,” I snap, then soften my voice. “Trust me, Vale. This is your route.”

“I’m supposed to believe you just happen to know about a secret passageway? And that you didn’t know about it until now?” he demands. He takes the map from me, turning it as if expecting to find a hidden agenda. “What aren’t you telling me, Rune? And why are you talking like you aren’t coming?”

“Because I’m not,” I say. I let out a tight breath. “I’m working on something, something that I think will help Savoa. I need time though, and I need…I need to be here to do it.”

Vale’s lips form a tight line, and his eyes scrutinize my face. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, only that he’s not convinced.

“Trust me, Vale,” I say. “I realize I’m not giving you much to go off, but I need you to believe me. The map is good, I promise.”

“Fine,” he says.

He’s no more than said the word when he lunges forward. At first, I think he’s attacking. He clamps a hand over my mouth, pressing hard enough my jaw will bruise. It’s only when I hear a distant yell that I realize he’s acting on instinct. Someone is screaming—and they’re coming this way.

I hold my breath, praying it has nothing to do with us. Somehow, deep in my gut, I know it does.

An old man with weathered skin bursts into the closet, throwing the door shut behind him. I only saw a flicker of his face, but it was enough to recognize him. Arnelian. One of the rebels who’d joined in the days before I became Viana’s handmaiden. He collapses against the door, panting hard.

“He. Knows.” Arnelian is breathing so hard he’s difficult to understand. “He knows. And they’re coming. Now. ”

“Wha—” I start, but Vale cuts me off.

“What did you do?” he demands, shoving me against the shelf. I struggle against him, staggering to my feet. His reaction shouldn’t sting, but it does.

“I didn’t do anything,” I snap.

“It was Larken,” Arnelian says, still gasping. “I don’t know if anyone else was involved, but it doesn’t matter. We need to go, now , before they get here.”

“Who?” Vale asks

“The Architect’s guards.” With that final declaration, Arnelian slumps against the door. There’s barely a pulse of silence.

“Use the map,” I say. “It’s your best shot, Vale. Your only shot.”

“Right into your trap, Rune?” he sneers.

“You’re dead if you don’t use it,” I say. “I’m going to buy you time. Do whatever you can to get out. Don’t look back until you’re in the tunnels.”

I shove Arnelian out of the way and crack open the door, only to stop when Vale grabs my wrist. I look back at him, at the line of light that falls across his face.

“You promise?” he asks. I’ve never seen him look so young, so scared .

“I promise,” I repeat. “Give me thirty seconds before you follow. I’ll lead them away.”

“You’ll never outrun them, Rune. They’ll catch you,” he says. His expression is caught somewhere between shock and horror.

“I know. That’s the plan.”

“That’s a terrible plan.” He tightens his hold.

“Thirty seconds,” I repeat. Pulling out of his grasp, I add, “Don’t you dare try to save me, Vale. You get out and you don’t look back.”

With that, I push into the hallway. There are too many things that can go wrong with what I’m planning, but this is the only way I can see Vale and the others getting out. We’ll all die if I don’t buy them time. Even if this doesn’t work, at least I can say I tried. At the end of it all, I would rather die good than live cruelly.

“Find me, Harrick,” I whisper.

And then, I run.