65. Harper
65
HARPER
D imitri escorted Harper to her chamber in silence. She tried to take note of the twists and turns and the many levels they climbed until her legs burned, but was quickly lost. Harper glanced at him as they strode, their steps echoing down the dark and deserted halls, but he stared resolutely ahead, his jaw set. She did not dare speak. Not with the darkness nipping at their heels beyond the glow of the faelight he cast to illuminate the way. Not with their master close by.
They returned to the jarl’s sprawling quarters, high in the mountain fortress. There, the air was not marred by war. Fine tapestries still hung from the walls, containing some sparse warmth in the space, and nothing was damaged, desecrated, or looted. Harper was most thankful there was no sign of death. She had seen enough and could bear no more. She was surprised to see in her wing that she had not just one room, but a suite of her own, with a living space and a dining room, in addition to the bedroom and bathing room. In her haze, she had not realised its breadth. It was much like the rooms she, Aedon, Brand, and Erika had first shared in Keldheim. It felt comfortingly familiar, though too large and empty for her liking.
She did not like to think who this set of rooms had belonged to—because other people’s belongings scattered the space. A pair of boots here. A cloak there. Books upon the shelves. It clutched at her heart when she saw an open book propped on the dining table next to a mug—both abandoned as though left in a hurry. Their owner was no doubt dead. It threatened to tear a hole in her chest. She blinked away the rush of prickling heat in her eyes and turned into the living room so that she could not see. Dimitri slumped onto a cushioned armchair before her, as though he was a sail that had lost all its wind. He looked depleted, which concerned her.
“Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly, lurking by the arched entrance.
Dimitri waved her to a chair adjacent to his own. “No,” he said dully, running a hand through his hair and ruining his coiffed look.
Harper perched on the chair arm, arranging her dress around her, and waited, staring at him expectantly. She could not relax into the chair, too agitated by the situation they found themselves in, what had just happened to her friends at the hands of the goblins, and by the kiss—and more —that the two of them had not spoken of. For all the closeness she had felt between them, now it felt like a gulf. This was a mistake . His words echoed in her mind. Harper steeled herself, walling the hurt away—it would not help anyone.
He stared at her, taking in her unusual appearance for a long moment, before his eyes flicked to hers, then dipped away. “We are bound to this runaway stallion now, and I fear we cannot untie ourselves.”
“The mirror…” Harper twisted the fine fabric of her dress between her fingers.
“Yes. If that were truly foresight, then it does not bode well. I would go so far as to say it is quite hopeless.” Dimitri shook his head and stroked his lips with his forefinger and thumb as he stared into nothingness.
“But what of Erendriel’s vision?” Harper leaned forward. “She said there was hope—if only we could remain faithful and follow the way.”
Dimitri laughed. “How do you propose we do that, Harper? Hmm? Because you just as good as gave yourself away!”
“You’re angry at me?” she asked incredulously. “I’m trying to get us out of this mess! The mess you created!”
“Yes, I’m angry—no, I’m furious —at your lunacy!” He stood, unable to contain his energy, and stormed to the opposite side of the chamber before turning to stride back, eliciting a thrill in the pit of her stomach. “You gave your freedom for nothing , and without it, we are as good as damned, Erendriel or not!”
“I gave it to save my friends!” Harper stood, too, squaring up to him, though she had to look up to meet his stormy gaze as he towered over her.
“Yet you did not ! They live merely to die another day,” he said, scowling down at her. “If anything, you only prolonged their suffering.”
His words speared right to the certainty in her that knew the self-same, but Harper would be damned before she admitted he was right. “Then how can I help them?”
“You cannot,” snapped Dimitri. “You gave your word to him. You don’t realise what you’ve done, do you? You have condemned all just for the chance—ill-used—to save two , and you did not even manage to spare them!” He threw his hands into the air, punched the wall, and leaned heavily against it.
“ You condemned us all by raising him!” She advanced upon him.
He wheeled on her with a snarl, and the darkness in his eyes made her heart pound as she ceded one step, and then two, until her back was against the wall. “And it was a mistake that cannot be taken back! I know now that power does not lead me to my desires. When will you cease putting me through the wringer for it? Must I be reminded of it at every turn? We are where we are. We must react, adapt, survive… then maybe we can undo this. You cannot be mad at me for wanting a better life.”
“For yourself, or for others?” She glared at him.
“Who says it cannot be both?” he muttered rebelliously, glowering at her under lowered brows. His breath caressed her forehead, and the cage of his arm resting above her head on the wall a contradiction to the anger that flickered between them in the charged air. She was so close to those lips—the lips that had kissed her and made her come undone. The same lips that had admitted it had been a mistake. Hurt warred with rage inside her, quelling the desire that threatened to rear.
“Argh!” He pounded the stone above her head, glaring at her, his jaw set. “I hate the way that you undo me so, woman—how you crack every defence I have built, how deeply you force me to face the darkness of my own conscience despite my best attempts to wall it away, and how I both loathe and love it, this chaos you unleash upon me! You give me hope that we are not doomed, and I do not know whether to hate or thank you for it.”
His anger thrilled her—and incited her. She was no longer afraid of him, despite the power he wielded. She raised her chin to him, and his gaze dropped to her lips, sending a swooping rush through her. “Someone has to keep you from believing your own horseshit, Dimitrius. I will never give up—not whilst I still draw breath—and whilst you hold the power to change this, I won’t let you give up either.”
Wordless, he stared at her for a long moment. She still could not fathom him. He was not evil—of that, she was quite sure. Misguided? That fit him better. He seemed to have been trying to do what he thought was right and best, however ineptly he had orchestrated it. Or perhaps, he was simply plain selfish. Somehow, the anguish in his eyes, in every hard line of his body, spoke of the former not the latter as the fight within him drained away.
He swallowed. “Never stop, Harper. I need you.” Those three whispered words pulled at something raw inside her. “I need the light and fire you bring—without you, I would see nothing but the darkness.” His eyes slipped shut, and when he opened them once more, she recognised with frustration the calm mask there—because she knew him well enough to know he was anything but serene inside. “I’m sorry, Harper. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you—not when I am far more to blame. Anger won’t get us anywhere.”
Harper sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands. She needed to hide from the world—just for a moment. She had no bravery left. Despite his words, she felt damned near hopeless too. “What will?” she asked in a hollow voice. If he was right, what hope was there? What small chance she may have believed they had was surely gone if she had given herself to Saradon without thought.
He knelt before her, taking her by surprise, and gathered her hands in his, pressing them gently. Her breath stalled at the contact. “We are alive, for one,” Dimitri said, but she could hear the bluffed confidence in his tone, the attempt to rally her.
“If this were chatura , we would be out of moves.” She slipped her hands from his and folded them in her lap, her heart pounding and unease circling within her belly anew.
“It might seem that way, but whilst we still draw breath, we can find a way out of this.”
Skies above, she could not look away from those violet eyes of his. She hated herself a little for it. That even in the midst of this chaos, she entertained any desperate notion of attraction. How bad a person did that make her, if she were attracted to him ? Her heart sank. She closed her eyes to deny him. “But you don’t have any ideas?”
“No,” he admitted. She saw the shadows behind her closed eyes move, felt the air disperse and his presence recede, and opened her eyes. He sank into the other chair. “I don’t. Not yet.”
“We are safe by his side for now, though, are we not?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t believe we are safe at all. But perhaps as long as we dance to his tune, we will remain outside his scrutiny—and the danger of that.”
“Then that’s what we will have to do to survive, isn’t it?” She used his own words against him.
“Yes,” he said heavily. “That’s how I’ve felt since… since I raised him. All the while, I’ve been trying to discover a way out, a way to stop it all. I just haven’t found one yet.”
“Then we must find one together,” Harper said, straightening, a curl of fire within her. Some hope that all was not yet lost. “If we are perhaps the only two close enough to him to know what he plans and remain below his regard, we are best placed of all to stop him.”
“You may well be right, Harper.” Dimitri stirred, gazing at her thoughtfully. “In this, we must put aside any animosity between us and work together.”
Animosity? Harper wondered at the word. Did he feel it toward her? An aching hurt lanced through her at the thought. Was that why he had chosen that word? She was not sure she hated him anymore, despite the harshness of their first impressions. Despite what had passed between them being a mistake, she still wanted him—even though she knew she should not—and she saw sides to him that she did not detest. Far from it. It unsettled her, for she felt like she finally looked upon him in a new light.
She was not there yet, she surmised, but she was close to gazing upon his true face. The one he hid under his masks. Those many masks—which were now being stripped away one by one for her. No longer was he the dangerous, dark mask. Not the cold, distant one. No more the haughty, sneering one. Nor the over-confident, cocky one. Not even the sly, cunning one. How many masks are left? she wondered. He now seemed vulnerable, and she was sure she could detect a shred of decency beneath his selfishness and foolishness.
“What?” he said at her silence.
“Do you feel ‘animosity’ toward me?” she asked quietly, not dropping her gaze. Had it been merely a mistake, a lapse in judgement, what had passed between them, or had she found herself falling for someone who hated her? She could not bear to think she had misjudged him so—and she knew him well enough to know that he would answer with the truth. No matter how painful. She needed to know.
He considered for a moment, and his lips twitched, though he did not smile. “Of course I do not,” he said in a low voice, one that tugged something within her. Every word struck honest and true. She did not know what to make of that. “I feel far more for you than is sensible. I regret nothing between us, Harper, let me make myself crystal clear. What happened between us was a mistake in the midst of this madness—but that does not mean I do not want it and far more beside.” She shivered at the promise in his words, at the intensity of his gaze that threatened to kindle that doomed fire within her.
He continued, “I meant animosity for you toward me. I have been so reckless—with what I have done, and with the way I behaved with such dishonour towards you. You, on the other hand, have only ever done what you felt to be right, even to your own detriment. How could I hate that? How could I do anything but bask in your glory that no matter what, you will not stop on your crusade for justice? You’re a fool to give yourself so easily without thought to him, but aren’t we all?”
Harper rankled at his words, but he laughed then, despite the gravity of the situation.
He held up his hands as though he sensed the rising indignation within her as she straightened, words leaping to her tongue to defend herself. “I know. I’m the biggest arse of them all right now.” He stood to leave. “I’ll go to your friends and see that they are well. That is the best I can promise.” He nodded and strode toward the door, only slowing when she rose to her feet and he caught the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“I don’t hate you,” she admitted in a quiet voice, staring at the wall next to him. She could not meet his eyes. That thing inside her chest threatened to crush her. She did not hate him at all. Far from it. Mistake or not, those kisses—a desperate attempt to escape this hellhole—were the truth, and she still wanted him. If anything, she hated herself for that, not him.
“Well then,” he said. “We may not be in such a bad partnership after all.”
“Thank you for helping my friends.”
“We must help each other.”
She nodded. “If you can help my friends, especially if they can escape, I’ll help you.” They could work together, somehow. She had to believe it was possible for her friends to obtain freedom from Saradon, even if she could not see how it would come to pass.
He dropped his gaze. “Don’t make promises you cannot keep, Harper,” he said softly. “I’ll do what I can.” He left her in the empty chamber.
Harper sank into the chair slowly, rubbing her arms to rid them of the goose pimples that had arisen with the cold. Her eyes slipped shut for a moment. She was exhausted, only buoyed by nervous energy and desperation, but the deep-seated tiredness within her crept up relentlessly, sapping her remaining energy. The small spark of hope dissipated in her solitude.
All is lost , her mind teased her. They will all die. It will be for nothing. You are no one. You are nothing. You will never prevail.
The taunts were relentless, and she could not silence them, even when she covered her face with her hands and groaned into her palms. Harper stumbled to the bed chamber and toppled upon the covers, fully dressed, to drown herself in slumber and silence the insipid voices that prophesied doom.