33. Harrick
THIRTY-THREE
HARRICK
“I thought you might be here,” Tora says. She crosses the upper courtyard, her floor length gown dragging against the black stone. Sparkles in the shape of raindrops cover the skirt, and her heels are frighteningly tall. She’s done her hair and makeup as if preparing for her own wedding, rather than a sector meeting.
My sector meeting. It’s the first one I’ve ever called, but it won’t be the last.
“Well?” I ask. I lean against the metal railing and cross my arms. I’ve been up here, watching the skyline and counting the seconds as they pass. I think I’m more nervous about this than I am about the meeting. “How’s it going?”
“Rune is fine ,” Tora says. She rolls her eyes, stopping a few paces from me. Her eyes drift to the mountains, to the water surging between its peaks. The rain is heavy today, cloaking Savoa in a hazy gray. It thunders against the glass ceiling, rolling over the edge in thick sheets of water.
“I know,” I say, even though I’m not sure I do.
So much has happened over the last season that it seems impossible any of us are fine. We’ve all been physically healed, but I doubt I’ll ever fully recover from that day. There will always be a part of me remembering the hot, leaden panic of realizing my wife was going to die—and not being able to stop it.
“Joran is back,” Tora says, stealing my attention. “He found Vale and that other escaped rebel. They were alive and fine, though they were not interested in coming back. I don’t think Rune was surprised. She seemed relieved, honestly, just knowing he was okay.”
“Good,” I say. I never met Vale, but Rune risked her life to save him, and that must mean he’s a decent man. “Maybe he will one day, once he realizes it’s safe, once he knows things are actually different.”
Tora doesn’t reply. She’s still scared to hope for a future like that, I think, but I no longer am.
“How about Mother?” I ask, deciding not to push her. “Any update there?”
“Not really,” Tora says. She shakes her head. “She’s furious, obviously, but I don’t think she’ll be a problem for us, Harrick. Truly.”
“Has she changed her mind about today?”
“No. She’s not coming,” Tora says. “But she’s not fighting us either. She’s agreeing to a peaceful transfer. I think it’s the most we can hope for at this point.”
I nod. The wind sends a smatter of rain against us, and I tuck my hands into my pockets. It’s getting colder, a stark reminder that Blizzard Season will be here in a matter of days. This time, Savoa will be ready. That’s what we’re doing at today’s meeting: deciding how to distribute the excess magic and on what timeline. We have proxies from all sectors attending, with me and Rune at the lead.
“She looks beautiful, by the way,” Tora says, and I know she’s no longer talking about Mother.
“Of course she does,” I say. “She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Other than me, right?” my sister says. She lets out a laugh at the face I make. “Look at you, Harrick. Don’t you know I’m supposed to be the romantic?”
“Speaking of,” I say, letting the unasked question hang between us.
“I ended the betrothal. Nordan wasn’t too upset.”
“I was asking about Dae, actually,” I say. I smirk at the way Tora blushes, as if she thought I hadn’t noticed. As far as I’m concerned, everyone has. “You could have told me, you know. That you cared for him.”
“I knew it didn’t matter,” she says. And then, pointedly, “It doesn’t matter.”
It does , I want to argue. I don’t though—it’s something she’ll have to decide for herself.
Tora blows out a heavy breath. “Wyhel. Maybe I’ll leave like those rebels. Change my name, start a new life?—”
“You could, you know. No one will stop you,” I say, pausing. “But I think you should stay. We wouldn’t be positioned as we are now without you. I’d likely be dead, Rune imprisoned or worse, the Tower in complete chaos…The kingdom needs you, Tora.”
“Just say you’d miss me too much,” she says. She’s trying to tease me, even as her eyes fill with tears.
“I would miss you too much,” I say. “So if you’re asking my opinion?—”
“I’m not.”
“I think we should reactivate the emissary position,” I continue, ignoring her. I smile when her eyebrows shoot up, something lighting in her eyes. “And I think you should take it. You’d be perfect for it. You could go see the world, learn what Savoa needs and how the sectors are doing. You can think about it, take your time?—”
“I’ll do it,” she interrupts. She’s already grinning, and it’s one of her rare smiles. She looks like a kid again, launching herself into my arms. “Thank you, Harrick.”
“I prefer your majesty ,” I say, barely dodging her elbow.
“You ruined it,” she says, half-whining, half-laughing.
I smile down at her, feeling so much happier than I knew I could. Of all the ways I thought my life would go, I never dared to dream of this. To be king in a land without the Architect or Malek, to be able to offer freedom and happiness to my sister, to be husband to the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met…
The Tower bell chimes, signaling the meeting is about to begin.
“Let’s go,” I say. I call to Tora as I walk, only pausing once I’ve reached the courtyard door. “You’re sure she’s all right? If she seems nervous, we should just go in together. There’s really no?—”
“Relax,” Tora says. She sweeps past me into the stairwell. “In case you’ve forgotten, she killed the Architect with an old rusted blade. She can handle herself.”
I am a man exactly where he belongs.
I stand in the front of the meeting room, facing two dozen men and women. The four sector representatives—Demetrius Llroy, Oris Fhell, Ksana Renat, and Maeve DinSon—are joined for the first time by several proxies, descendants, and guards. Everyone wears the same black mask over their eyes. They are narrow like a servant’s veil, but thick like an elite’s.
It was one of Rune’s ideas. We’d had a seamstress make them over the past couple of days, and people’s reactions alone made it worth it. Demetrius Llroy hasn’t stopped scowling. I smile at him and Oris Fhell from across the room. Though they don’t know it yet, their time on the Committee is running out.
Rune and I have been planning this meeting since the day after the Architect’s death. We had a funeral for both him and Malek, one neither deserved. It was what the people wanted, what they needed, maybe, to accept new times were coming. More importantly, it allowed us to announce Rune as a new, unprecedented type of leader. Someone born without magic, who now seemed to defy it.
The Architect is dead, and without his looming presence, a flourishing kingdom feels possible.
Today, Rune and I will finally pitch our ideas and hear from others in the room. Only a few factors have already been decided, and one of my favorites is that representatives will be elected, not chosen by me or any other member of the crown. While I imagine Ksana Renat and Maeve DinSon will maintain their places, I will be surprised if Demetrius and Oris keep theirs.
“Thank you for joining us today,” I say. My voice feels so much louder in this room than it did the last time I was here. Maybe it’s because the window shields are down, and the glass echoes. Or maybe it’s because I know my words matter now, that they aren’t only for show.
This time, change is actually possible.
Tora smiles at me from her place on the left side of the table. Only Rune and I have chairs on this end, and hers is currently—symbolically—empty. My sister insisted it would be more powerful this way, but I hate that Rune’s not beside me.
“We are in the midst of an unprecedented transition,” I say. All eyes are on me, just visible behind ebony masks. “I realize many people are uncertain of Savoa’s future, but be assured, I am not. For the first time in our kingdom’s history, we have the opportunity to change, to be whatever our people decide—and not what was best for one man. From this moment onward, we are the architects of our world.
“Our kingdom’s hardest times are behind us, but there are still many decisions to make. I am proud to be your king, to help lead us through the next several cycles.” I pause, letting light and warmth fill my chest. It’s the same sensation I experienced the first time Rune stepped toward me. “And I am equally proud to introduce my wife, your queen, and Savoa’s greatest hope, Rune Ademas. The woman who saved me, and this entire kingdom.”
Tora cheers, and most of the room offers their polite applause. I don’t look to see who is—or isn’t—welcoming toward my wife. One day, they will all see her exactly as I do. For now, I’m staring at the door, determined not to miss a single moment.
Joran steps through first. He may not have immediately taken to Rune as I did, but it’s clear now: the man admires my wife, and nothing has ever given me more peace. He smiles back through the open doorway, giving her an encouraging nod. She must be hesitating. For the past several days, she has worn Tora’s borrowed clothing. It’s been red and flowy, and even that has made Rune tense any time we were around others. She’s expecting someone to threaten her, to challenge her new role here.
They haven’t dared, of course. While these people might not accept a servant as their queen, the rest of the kingdom sees her as a symbol of hope, of possibility.
Just as I’m tempted to go to her, Rune enters the room. Her presence steals all other thoughts from me, and a bit of my breath too. The topics for today’s discussion vanish as I look at her. Hopefully she doesn’t mind taking the lead, because I might be a lovesick fool for the rest of this meeting.
My wife is wearing a dress, and she is simply stunning. Though the bodice is bright red, almost everything else is yellow. Bright gems cover the top; tangled vines circle her waist like a belt; sparkles in the shape of rain decorate her tulle skirt; and her jewelry is made entirely of mirrors. She represents all of Savoa, both as a servant and as a queen. The ring I gave her glimmers on her finger, on the same hand as her indebted brand. When I offered to remove the mark, Rune said she wanted to keep it.
It’s part of me, she’d said.
I hadn’t understood fully, when she’d said it, but I do now. Standing before us, Rune is more than a queen—she is everything .
Pale, sickly handmaiden.
Daring, secretive trespasser.
Beautiful, fucking temptation.
Powerful, unstoppable liberator.
“Rune,” I say. I don’t mean to speak her name out loud, but when she smiles at me like this, I don’t regret it. I finally turn back to the table. Two dozen men and women face my wife, watching her with assessing curiosity. With a sharp grunt, I snap, “Kneel for your queen.”
Chairs screech as everyone moves at once. Rune remains in the doorway, cheeks flushed, those blue eyes sparkling beneath her mask. Rather than the black one everyone else wears, hers is a ratted servant’s veil.
“Do not kneel,” she says, surprising everyone—me most of all. Her voice is loud and unwavering as she approaches my side. With her beside me, I can sense the cracks in her confidence. Her fingers tap her thighs, and her voice tremors, just enough for me to hear. “Return to your seats.”
I stand tall at my wife’s side, keeping my focus on the table instead of her. Still, my fingers crave her skin. She’s too close not to touch, and so I graze my knuckles against the back of hers. With how strong she’s standing, I brace myself for her to add distance. Instead, her hand finds mine and she interlocks our fingers.
She’s scared. I can feel it, every unsteady breath and twitch of nerves. She’s terrified, but she’s never let that stop her before—and she won’t now, either.
She tilts her chin, and I realize she’s not wearing a crown. I’d been too distracted by the way she looks in a dress: soft and delicate and beautiful. I didn’t look at her hair. It’s been twisted, not around a crown, but itself, forming a loose braid. She’d considered several crowns this morning, and while I enjoyed them all, this is undoubtedly better.
“This crown we live to serve,” she says, her voice steadying. “It has failed us. It has left us divided, weakened, and lost… But this is a new era, and we must come together, not as crown and commoner, but as equals. We must rebuild these broken lands. Together.”
Chills dance down my arms, and by the quiet of the room, the others feel it too. This sharp tugging, right at the center of the chest, that demands long-forgotten hope.
“Together,” I say, echoing Rune’s final word. I remove my crown, placing it on the table before us. She turns to me, brows lifted and mouth parted. I squeeze her hand, smiling when those blue eyes soften for me. I say it again, as if we’re the only two people in this room. “Together.”
THE END